I consider myself to be a reasonably experienced swimmer, having swum in the river and sea all year round for a long time now. I also consider myself to be reasonably cautious, with a healthy respect of just how powerful bodies of water can be. I’ve read extensively about rip tides and currents, I don’t tend to swim somewhere new alone unless confident, I always check tide times and am more than likely to opt against swimming if the waves are big and the tide is going out.
Which is why I guess my experience tonight has shaken me so much. The boys have parkour every Thursday for 90 minutes in Paignton and I tend to use this time to run and swim most weeks. This week, having already run this morning, I decided just to swim. I headed down to Paignton seafront, noting that it was a lot rougher than I had expected. So rough in fact that there was a surfer out, catching waves – not a common occurrence in Torbay.
I quickly assessed that given the large rolling waves, it was going to be a run in and splash about situation rather than an actual swim. I was happy with this, my mental health has been a bit rubbish this week and I knew the cold water was the tonic I needed. Having suited up, I waded in to the shallows, letting the icy water crash into my shins, my thighs, my stomach.
Once waist deep, I took the opportunity between sets to swim properly out a little bit, checking regularly that I could still touch the floor. As the cold hit my lungs, I focused on my breathing and turned back towards the shore. As I did, a large wave crept up behind me and spectacularly crashed over my head, submerging me. There’s something about cold water at this time of the year that can make your whole body and mind seize up, so I stood up and as I felt the pull of the next wave drawing strength, decided that the sensible thing to do was to admit defeat and retreat to the safety of the shoreline and my dry stuff.
However, that next wave hit me before I had time to move, bigger than before and knocking me over again. I managed to right myself and just started moving towards the beach when the pull of the next wave dragged me backwards and then submerged me again below the icy water. This happened again and as I tried to find both my feet and my breath, my body flooded with panic as I genuinely had a moment of dread that I wasn’t going to be able to extract myself from the situation.
I looked desperately around, the surfer had disappeared and the beach was empty. After being knocked over again, I gathered all my resolve and luckily, a brief break between sets of waves allowed me the opportunity to start moving diagonally towards shore. It felt like moving through quicksand as the pull of each wave gathering strength fought against my forward momentum. I made it back to the beach and for a few minutes, my heart racing and the adrenaline coursing through my body prevented me from realising how cold I was.
I retreated to a nearby pub to get a hot drink and that’s where this finds me, writing this up, instead of doing the work I had planned to in the remaining hour of my free time. Fairly anticlimactic, I know!
So why have I told you all this? I suppose that we are all storytellers and want to share our experiences and anecdotes, particularly when they’re out of the ordinary. But maybe there’s also part of me that wants to warn my other water loving friends not to get complacent. I’ve always been a little bit scared of the power of the sea and thought I always made sensible decisions but today I feel really rattled, and also quite frustrated with myself and embarrassed.
Anyway, I’m on terra firma now so all’s well that ends well but I hope this might have served some useful purpose in sharing!
the starlings gather here 