PureTrail Dartmoor Way 50

This race was a bit of a last minute thought, I was taking to the race organisers 4 weeks ago after their last race saying I was considering entering, and only submitted my entry a fortnight ago. I was heavier than is comfortable for me, at 11 1/2 stone, I’d like to be at least a stone less as my body finds it especially hard above about 11, and I’ve been feeling sluggish and uncoordinated lately from excess stress. But I’d like to do a multi-day event in a couple of years, and this would be a good test of what happens if I attempt a long distance when not quite in shape, so that seemed a good enough reason to give it a go, plus this was their inaugural 100-mile event so it felt good to be a part of (even though I was doing the 50 mile option).

We assembled in the dark at Okehampton and saw the stunning dawn from the bus on the way to the start. It was full daylight when we started which was good for the soul, and having seen the dawn we knew we had the full amount of daylight ahead of us. Last weekend I’d realised that my trail shoes have done 650 miles and started to go through at the heel and rub my skin, so I panic-bought a new pair, and standing at the start they were bright and shiny. Although they were the same as the old ones so I knew they’d be comfortable, they were thick and puffy with their new-ness, and I spent the first hour constantly re-tying the laces. If they were too loose they slipped, but if I have laces just a fraction too tight I get shooting pains across my foot.

My aim for the day was to get round with as little muscle fatigue as possible, as close to the cutoffs as possible, but it was quite hard to run that slowly on the road sections at the start, and it only took me 1:19 to do 10k, which felt a bit fast given I was going to be running all day. So I just continued went as slow as I could, as I already felt a wreck. I already had aches and pains too - my right hamstring felt tight, as did my left calf (where I had had an overnight cramp the week before), and I had an intense pain between my shoulder blades which has been building for a fortnight. This didn’t really matter though, I knew I wasn’t super fit, and yet I had still been really looking forward to the event, and it was so beautiful in all the autumnal colours, with so much of the route being along tree-lined tracks or along stream valleys. And the curious cow field at Ashburton was empty to boot! We were blessed with a good day too - the sky cloudy but bright, no rain, and a balmy 9 degrees before dawn rising to about 13 degrees in the afternoon.

There was a steep hill just before the first checkpoint. I had only seen 1 or 2 others at this point, bringing up the rear, but I bumped into two more who had taken a wrong turning and had to backtrack, and we stomped up the hill together. I was surprised to bump into a few other runners at the checkpoint too. I was very well looked after at the checkpoint, I was so incredibly hungry due to limited fat-burn training and carrying more weight, and things appeared without me having to ask for them - a sausage roll, hot soup, a plaster for two of my toes that were running together. I left feeling fit, then the second I started running I got stabbing pains on my foot under the laces, and intermittent problem I’ve had before that no physio can seem to diagnose. Sometimes I can walk it off, sometimes I can’t, but thankfully it was manageable as I walk up to Haytor, then along to Yarner woods, and eventually eased off. This section of the path, all the way to Bovey and then on to the next checkpoint at Manaton was familiar to me, and it was nice to be able to switch off and not have to navigate, through more stunning tracks lined with yellow trees and fallen leaves. It was all too easy to speed up here (about 19 miles in), so I just tried to keep my heart rate under 160 (I would prefer it lower still, but it’s always higher than normal on a race with an early morning start).

I was having some technical issues as well as body aches. My watch has a ‘low power’ setting where it only samples the gps every minute, but there’s a bug with it where it keeps losing gps (it works fine on full power mode) and after a while it fails to find it again altogether. I kept having to stop the track and start a new one, which meant I lost my average pace, which I had planned to use to time my arrival at each aid station. I had anticipated this and was running a second log on Strava on my phone, but my phone tends to zig zag around and log extra mileage, so the pace wasn’t correct there either. I could calculate it from the map against elapsed time if needs be, but I was about an hour inside the cutoff anyway so didn’t really have to worry.

At the second aid station there were even more people, and I stuffed my face as much as I could and set off again. There was a chill in the air so I put on my long sleeved baselayer (having been in a vest and shorts up to now, despite it being mid November), and typically after a few minutes I was roasted again but decided to take the sweaty body over cold skin. I had a company on the next sections, briefly with Claire, then yo-yoing with a chap called Antti who’d left me behind at the start when I re-tied my laces, and running a stretch with another chap called Alan. My GPS went haywire on some shapeless, dark bracken-fields just before Cranbrook rendering my navigation useless, but Alan’s was co-operating, so it was reassuring to have his company then. My left knee started to hurt at the shin tendon on the downhills, but Alan had some aches too so we ran/walked a stretch together, approaching Fingle bridge. We had passed the Bude crowd too - an energetic bunch of 6 or 8 all running as a group, although they passed us again here, then we passed again as they met their support crew for snacks. It was 3.9 miles to the Chagford aid station as I pushed on up the hill taking me high above the Teign gorge. Darkness has fallen now so I couldn’t see the stunning view, but I knew this section and even in the blackness I could sense the deep, v-shaped valley on my left down to the tree-lined river below.

As I descended to the river I began to feel a bit weak and shaky, even though I had just had a cereal bar, and pushing on took a lot of effort here, it was the actual motion of running and bouncing up and down that was making me feel nauseous. As I ran the flat stretch along the river my right quadricep suddenly developed some pain, and I slowed to a walk, which was heartbreaking on such runnable ground, but I didn’t want to sustain an injury that would prevent me from finishing. The remaining 2 miles to the aid station felt like it took 2 hours. I walked in in a state but body seemed to notice, I guess that’s par for the course after 40 miles. This was already the second furthest I’ve ever run and on my longest ultra I also got injured on route and yet finished running strong with no lasting damage, so I didn’t see how this should be any different. I was waited on again, with coke and soup and sandwiches and freeze spray. It was 7pm and the cutoff was quarter past midnight so I had time to walk the rest, but I got going again as soon as I could just in case, although I think I was there for longer than I imagined. After half a mile of walking I was bored of that, especially as I’d looking at the tracker to pass the time while on a road stretch and seen the people I’d passed gradually getting further and further ahead. So I tried a slow shuffle-run and it felt okay, and there weren’t any steep downhills to test my knee, and that was it, suddenly I was fine all the way to the finish, more than fine in fact. I still felt destroyed, and it sounded like somebody was talking to me quietly as I was wheezing on every breathe, but somehow I felt strong at the same time - I was able to dodge rocks and mud. I genuinely raced the last 10 miles, although my pace graph shows I wasn’t any faster than I was at the start, but my pace was incredibly consistent throughout which I guess is a feat when you’re getting progressively more tired. I had no targets regarding finish time or table position, so I set myself an arbitrary aim to catch up with the Bude group again. As we left the road for the trail section I passed the two guys I’d seen before the first checkpoint, then somebody else alongside the roaring river Taw just past Sticklepath. Last time I had looked at the tracker I saw Bude were still 0.36 miles ahead, but I knew they might stop again at one of their popup aid stations, so I kept pushing, even though I felt shaky again now and I couldn’t get any food in this time. I finally saw them just as we reached the hill up to Belstone village, and thankfully accepted a Jaffa cake from their support crew who I passed just before they did. The next section of the route was glorious solo running - first over the final hill with a steepish ascent and a steepish descent that didn’t flare up my knee as it was on grippy grass, then a good track that gradually descended then zagged back to cross the East Okement river, followed by a hellish river track over slippery rock slabs. I am fairly comfortable on rock, and my legs were still pretty mobile, and I passed another small group of runners here who were being more careful. It was pretty much all over then. A friend messaged me to say there was no-one else between me and the finish as I couldn’t check the tracker on this terrain, so all I had to do was run it in, about ready to collapse but ecstatic with my achievement. In the end I finished 34th out of 57, and 9th out of 21 women, despite aiming to plod round, with a finish time of 14:12:44.

I knew I needed to eat then, and was so thankful to find the cafe at the finish line still open, doing chill and rice, it was hard to get down me but I managed the lot before driving myself home.

I couldn’t walk the next day (today), but don’t believe I have hurt anything, just general fatigue and stiffness. I couldn’t sleep well, I had a stomach ache and a sore knee, despite propping it up on the pillow. I had 8 hours of sleep, of which just 2:40 were restful, 1:24 restless and 4 hours awake. There’s time for that though. Second furthest I've ever run, my 9th ultra (6 in events and 3 in personal challenges), and one that went from a real ‘can I even finish?’ to a ‘wow, look what my body did!’

A last minute ultra: Dartmoor North to South via the Two Moors Way, Unsupported

What do you do if you haven’t done much running lately? Call it a taper and go for a long one 😄 I wanted to do a long run today so make up for little running in August but I was thinking more of 18 miles, not double that. On Thursday though, just two days ago, someone posted on the South West Trail Runners group looking for a lift from Ivybridge to Okehampton so they could run across Dartmoor. I had previously plotted a route across Dartmoor on the Two Moors Way, one that I didn’t mind how fast I did it, so despite being a bit out of shape, I figured we could both help each other out, and it worked out well. We met at Ivybridge, I drove David to his start at Okehampton, then found a place to leave my car just north of the A30 near Drewsteignton so I could head into the National park on the Two Moors way. Thankfully it was downhill to start.

It was due to be a warm day so I’d brought 3 litres of drink and my pack was uncomfortably heavy and hurting my back, I felt a small niggle in my knee too from the weight. After just 1 mile I realised this may scupper my plan to go running in Scotland in a week time, even if it did fix the deficit in my August mileage.

The trail passes through Drewsteignton, ascends Piddledown Common then heads west towards Castle Drogo, high above the Teign river with a wonderful view down the valley. After 1 hour I’d done 3.82 miles, giving an Estimated Time to Completion of 9:25. This is a pace I continued.

The path then drops down to the Teign and follows the river for some way, another pretty section, and cooler in the shade too. I saw a chap with secateurs pruning back the nettles by a stile, very socially minded and earned a thank you from me. In the second hour I covered another 3.8 miles. There was then an overgrown section with a narrow boardwalk, which required some care not to fall off the edges; half an hour of that and some fields and I was out onto the heat of the moor.

I had been keeping my heart rate to about 158 max, but I let it rise to 167 here as I was following the right hand side of a nice, broad, gently rising whaleback ridge that was comfortable to run along. Nearing the top there was a group of cows, the first of many, but there were two people sat at a boundary stone by the edge of the group and the cows didn’t seem at all bothered so I decided they were friendly. After 3:12 I was a third of the way in. The route descended the broad, gentle hill, and swung east to head past Birch Tor and over to Hookney Tor. I developed serious stomach cramps here due to the unavoidable time of the month. I took some ibuprofen which usually helps but it made no difference whatsoever. Heading south to Grimspound I had a welcome distraction from 7 or 8 hang-g liders swooping and turning over King Tor. The sun was out and the multicoloured wings looked fantastic against the blue sky.

4 hours had passed now and I’d done an additional 3.65 miles. I wasn’t in good shape: I was heavy (just bordering on overweight again having put a bit back on) and stiff, but I was getting on okay. Next came the familiar Hameldown hill, another broad whaleback ridge. The mainTwo Moors Way does a detour over to Widecombe in the Moor after this but I think this is optional and you can carry straight on and cut the corner off. Unfortunately though the path on the OS map doesn’t exist on the ground and I swing away by accident, so I went back thinking I’d missed it to find it not there, before picking my way through the gorse to reach the road to Jordan. Passing Dockwell farm they were just about to move the cattle but I got lucky and passed through just before.

At 4:46 I was half way through, and after 5 hours I’ve done another 3.85 miles, faster due to the downhill off Hameldown. Out of Ponsworthy there was a steep uphill. I started to get a hotspot on the inside of the ball of my right foot. At least my stomachache had finally gone. I was taking salt tablets every 45 minutes using a countdown timer on my phone, I’m not sure how much they help but they always feel like magic little sweet. From here the route follows the good track of Dr. Blackall’s drive, high above another river valley, the Dart this time, then drops down to Spitchwick where there were two ice cream vans, but despite a sudden craving could not partake if I wanted to claim this as an unsupported FKT. It wouldn’t be a fast time but if I got in first it would still count!

At 16:03, after 6:28 of running I was 2/3 of the way through. The second third has been longer than the first, so I predicted that the final third would be 4 minutes longer again which meant I would finish at 19:23, which was inside 10 hours and well before sunset. I worked this out whilst dropping down into Holne, then oddly I quite enjoyed the big uphill track out of Scorriton. I’d missed the 6 hour stats, but after 7 hours I’d done 25.77 miles, an additional 3.45 miles for each of the last 2 hours. The track led up onto Scorriton Down, a quiet bit of moor. The trail here was really confusing to follow. It was crisscrossed with other tracks that converged and diverged, none of which were on the map, and the correct one was very nondescript and at times overgrown, but I just followed the gps and it was easy enough to head the correct way. Then it flattened off over a featureless stretch of more then along the river Avon. Here I feel like I kept walking when I could have run, I was tired and my head was completely elsewhere, not really aware. I noticed absentmindedly that my hands were swollen and my rings were really tight.

The ground was a little boggy in places for the first time, but it was good to be near water as I had run out of liquid so I filled up with another litre and treated it with some old chlorine tablets. I crossed the Avon on a clapper bridge, said hi to some wild campers, then began the final steep uphill to the Red Lake Tramway, otherwise known at the Puffing Billy. 8 hours came around and I had only added an extra 2.69 miles, very slow but there had been a lot of up, and at 8:04 I reached the Puffing Billy and there was no more up and only 7.7 miles to go. My watch had partly given up here as well as my body and it would no longer tell me my heart rate, but I was relatively steaming along the tramway at 12 minute miles. And I could see the sea from here too! I stopped for the loo with just 3.2 miles to go, and crouching down seemed to be a huge mistake as when I stood back up again the back of my right leg had gone ‘ping’ and I couldn’t straighten it. Could it be all over, this close to the end? I hobbled for a bit and it was really painful, but I soon discovered I could actually still run if I adopted a bent-leg hobble, and I staggered down the final track and road to cross the railway at Ivybridge, arriving at the Dartmoor National Park sign dead on 19:23 as predicted.

Dr. Blackall's Drive

Swollen hands

Sweating at the Avon

My bovine compatriots

Ponies leading me to Castle Drogo

Near the South Teign

The overgrown boardwalk

Me

Bennett's Cross and Birch Tor

Hang-gliders

Grimspound Prehistoric Settlement

Summit of Hameldown

Nearing Jordan

West Webburn River

Many signs, including the relevant 'MW'

The Avon clapper bridge

The Puffing Billy

Strava stats

19th August 2021, Swim Around Torbay with friends.

(before and after photos)

(Rocky coastline)

A year and a day ago, on 18 August 2020 I did my longest sea swim so far, 4.5km from Paignton to Torquay, a distance I didn’t surpass until earlier this month, with a 5km swoosh on 7th August 2021 and a 7km adventure swim (LINK) last Sunday 15th. I barely had time to revel in these though before I found myself swimming 11km all the way round the bay today, from Brixham harbour to Torquay harbour! There is a nice symmetry in that I swam the direct route across the bay on Sunday, then the longer way hugging the coastline 4 days later – past Elberry cove, Broadsands, Goodrington, Paignton Sands, Preston Sands, Hollicombe, Livermead and Torre Abbey Sands. This swim came about quite unexpectedly. I met a lovely bunch of swim/runners when I went to the Scilly isles in June, who were both welcoming and adventurous, and I liked them straight away. We have carried on the adventures since we got back, and I found myself invited on an annual swim-round-the-bay by Sue and Pauline – I didn’t need asking twice! In terms of physical effort I have been capable of swimming these distances for some time, I enjoyed distance swimming at a young age and I had kept up my stamina, but the sea has taken me a long time to get used to, and finding people to include me in their adventures is the eternal elusive element, so I was overjoyed to be partaking in this. It was billed as a fun day with café and chip stops, although not without a risk element, given the harbours and jet ski lanes. We would stop at Broadsands and Paignton Sands, breaking the swim into three roughly equal segments. The night beforehand I didn’t feel nervous at all, just excited to have the day off work doing something so epic, although a few nerves crept in once we were sitting in our wetsuits on the 10am ferry from Torquay to Brixham, with unknown sea wildlife imminent. We had an enjoyable wildlife moment on the ferry, with a pod of dolphins right off the bow.

(Dead man's rope)

We walked together round Brixham harbour to the final slipway that is clear of all the boats. This was a slipway that really lived up to its name, and we had to be careful walking down the carpet of bladderwrack and gutweek. The tide was fully out, with the aim that the incoming tide would help push us across to Torbay. The water was much calmer today than Sunday, both on the surface and underneath, and much clearer too, with the potential for seeing all sorts down below, and I was wary at first, but that quite quickly turned to enjoyment of the challenge, in fact it was such an apparent transition that I even clocked the time: 13 minutes! This is the life or wild adventures that I want to be living, 5 years ago I didn't even know it was possible. We were swimming close to the shore but it is all towering cliffs here and the sea is deep even close in, so there was an occasional glimpse of some yellowy rocks but mostly the water was a gorgeous, calm, deep blue. A wildlife cruise boat went pass, giving us a wide berth, and we paused for a moment to be tourist attractions and wave at the passengers as we heard the tannoy announce ‘and here you can see a paddleboard, and a pod of swimmers…’

(Checking for boats at Elberry)

I was still feeling the after effects of Sunday, with a widely chafed neck and a sore left shoulder, so I had decided to swim breaststroke today, thankfully that is my strongest stroke and I can keep up with others doing crawl. I was keeping time with Pete and Sue, swimming behind them to utilise a draft effect and save my energy, but Pauline in her new wetsuit was super speedy and kept having to wait for us. We joked that she had channelled the spirit of Karen, another friend who had been due to join us but unfortunately couldn’t come. We would pause often to re-group, and every time we did I had another pee. There is something about open water swimmers that it seems to be a mark of honour to not only pee, but to announce it too. I managed 15 pees on that first leg, the winner by far.

(Relative safety)

The water intrigued us. The tidal flow was meant to be heading NNE, the wind was heading NE, the tide was coming in so should be pushing towards Torquay, so we expected the water to be heading across the bay the same as us (for the most part we would be heading NNE), yet if we paused it was evident we were getting pushed gently back the way we had come, and the occasional strands of seaweed were bending towards us too. On this first leg we were actually heading West, with the cliffs to our south against which the flood tide would be pushing, so it is understandable that here we wouldn’t get a full assist, but even further out the cruise ships were facing to the West.

(Urban coastline at Paignton)

Approaching Elberry there were some large patches of Dead man’s rope seaweed. I was really pleased that during my week on the Scilly isles my new companions had spent some time providing me with aversion therapy for my fear of seaweek. Namely taking me on a swim/run tour of an island where the only option was to swim through many forests of it! I took the opportunity to look for seahorses hiding within it, as I know this is a known habitat for them, but they were too elusive. We stayed close to the shore, not cutting across Elberry cove until the last minute, as this is one of the two places locally with a jetski lane enabling them to come all the way into the shore with unrestricted speed, and we didn’t want to meet one of those. From there it was only about 1km round the rocks to Broadsands, where we had our first stop at the café, we’d swum roughly 3.5km on the first leg.

(Big buoy!)

Typically the clouds lowered just as we arrived, bringing mist and rain, but we found a large umbrella to sit under, and enjoyed homemade lamb and pistachios patties along with shop-bought hot drinks, and laughed and joked and shivered. Where was the bright sunshine that the forecast had promised for today? It seemed that all the predictions had been wrong. We had all felt quite cold on the last stretch. The mist lifted a little and we watched the cruise ships re-appear out in the bay, and somebody noticed that they had now swung round and were now facing the way we expected. That boded well for speeding us along but didn’t make us any warmer. We walked along the stretch of beach to warm up before re-entering, but I was really struggling with the motivation to get back in. The thing that drove me on was that I hadn’t swum the next section before, whereas I had previously swum the third leg. Plus the fact that the other were neck deep now and about to swim off, so I swum on to follow them, but kept my head out until the warm blood started pumping again. My neck had started to ache from swimming breaststroke so I invented a hybrid leg kick where I could do the breaststroke kick followed by a bit of a futter kick, to keep my head in for longer. This section was really pretty. There was a low, rocky coastline to our left, and interesting seaweed in the shallows below us. There was a rock fin with a notch that we swum through, gliding over rocks and weed that were just inches below our faces. Somehow Pete managed to miss the gap and swim headfirst into the rock to the left, but maybe hopefully some sense back in!

(Drippy in the chippy)

So far I hadn’t seen a single jellyfish, but on the second leg I counted 5 compasses and 3 crystals. And had 5 more pees. And a steam train chugging out of Paignton. We spotted the marker than identified the exit of Paignton harbour, then from there it was another careful, speedy dash over to the large red buoy for a photo opportunity. Then it was just a short distance in to Paignton pier. I had actually been warm enough for this whole leg, right up to now, but the chill was starting to set in again and I was keen to exit the water and enjoy some chips. Peter, never having swum this far, was ready for another break too, forgetting about his sighting and deviating off in leftwards zig before a returning zag. In the chippy on the pier we sat straight down at a conveniently empty table, then got prompty evicted to an outdoor table as we were dripping on the seats.

(Secret door at the Redcliff)

It was easier to get back in for the last leg. We were tired but our spirits were still high. We passed a cool little door set into the sea wall at the top of some steps, under the Redcliffe hotel. Something weird had happened to the sea though! It was calm still until after Paignton sands, then all of a sudden we passed some caves and two sizable waves came past in quick succession, like the wake of a boat, or splashback off a cliff. There was no boat in sight though. There was a brief pause, then suddenly the whole sea was like it, waves coming from the open bay, and coming back at us off the cliffs, at least a foot high with a 1 second repeat. I’ve swum in waves plenty of times but these were quite unusual, a wake-without-a-cause, rather than surf or swell. There were a lot more jellyfish here too, on this section I counted 18 compasses, 9 crystals. And I had 4 more pees. Front crawl was more effective in this sea, so I tried a bit of that. I could avoid chafing my neck by doing a whole body roll, which can be an effective stroke anyway. I could only go so far though before my left shoulder would twinge, and I would have to switch back to breaststroke, then I would do that until my knees or neck hurt, and switch back. It got to the point I was in pain on every stroke, but the neck was worst, it felt like my spinal discs were about to pop. Here it might sound like I wasn’t enjoying myself, but it was still feeling great. This was always going to be a big swim, but we were doing it, and it was manageable.

(Compass jelly)

We were taking a direct line to Torquay harbour here rather than following the coast, being tossed and turned by the sea, we hadn't bothered stopping to explore the caves either. A high performance rib went pass, fast and noisy, and jet black, and we kept our ears keenly turned to the air inbetween strokes to listen for its return. We figured it was probably on a 30 minute tourist trip so we should have time to reach the 5 knot buoy and be safe beyond it, but just in case we stuck close together ready to raise out towfloats to increase our visibility, and we made it without mishap.

(Finished!)

Then it was all over! We had made it, all four of us as a wonderful unit, 11km total, although my strava had to go one better and say 14km. 6:38 elapsed time, and 5 hours of that in the water. There was only time for a quick hug before we had to rush off, as three of us had committed to be in Plymouth for the firework championships. This would mean yet another swim to watch the fireworks from a prime spot in Tinside East bay, with about 40 other swimmers and a floating bar, for which Peter was one of the two barman. I definitely won’t have another day like this in a hurry, one for the memory banks!

(GPS track)

(The floating bar at the fireworks)

Across Torbay, Pete Wilby adventure swim

My alarm went at 6:30 after 5 hours sleep, so I could get down to Meadfoot to meet the boat to Churston Cove for the start of a 6.5km adventure swim (see photo showing Churston from Meadfoot, way across the bay beyond the cruise liners). Thankfully, despite a couple of snoozes, I arrived in good time to make somehow pay for the toilets three times, systematically work through all my swim kit to check I had everything I needed, and change. I needn’t have worried as the boats were running late… an hour late as it turned out, an inauspicious start, given that we assumed the timings had been carefully chosen so we could swim on the slack tide. Then the motor of the first boat cut out three times inbetween its approach to the slipway and actually reaching it, also concerning. The boat journey across the bay was an event in itself – this was a small rib (see photo), with a skipper and 5 people crammed into it, in a feisty sea and force 4 wind, heading directly into all the face of the choppy waves which came thick and fast. There was a lot of spray, and I was repeatedly soaked. I didn’t really expect this, and in my shortie wetsuit I got quite cold. The pre-event briefing we had been sent said not to bring any clothes into the boat, just swim kit, so I had followed this although everybody else had brought warmer layers on with them. About half way over I idly asked the skipper how rough a sea he could take the boat out in. He replied with “shouldn’t even be out in this”, to which I clung onto the ropes a bit tighter and my hands got frozen into claws.

Standing on the beach at Churston cove I was shivering, everyone else had full length suits and I was the only one in a shortie. We had to wait a bit longer as the other boat had broken down again and my boat had to go out and pick up the other swimmers. Before we began the swim, Pete briefed us on the safety – there would be one rib leading the way with a flag; two prone rescue boards flanking the swimmers; one boarder bringing up the rear; one spare boarder for general support; and the other rib moving between everyone overseeing it all and bringing our nutrition. This was different to the impression that I got from the original brief, which was that there would be a craft with each swim pod of similar speed swimmers, rather than the crew surrounding the whole group which could possibly get very spread out if the swimmers were of different speeds. I like to know and fully understand what I am getting into, especially with new and intense situations, and what with the safety system and the clothing on the boats already being different to expected my levels of distress were rising. To some of us that is how our brains work, we think a lot and gather information so it’s hard to then change tack, and that’s a perfectly valid way to be, but often not understood by others. The distress coupled with already being cold meant I wasn’t in the mood to even start. I wasn't worried about the distance - I hadn't trained much as I'd been out of the water between March and July but I've put plenty of time into swim and stamina training over the years - this was all about the mental side which for me is the biggie. And my brain was struggling. But I had paid and I had got that far, so I begun.

Most swimmers surged off straight away, I needed to acclimatise and a friend hung back for me as we’d agreed to swim together. I was concerned that I wouldn’t make the whole swim and she’d end up on her own far from anyone else, which was a good incentive to get going. As we started to swim I was actually moving a little faster and having to switch to breaststroke to stay with her, which meant I wasn’t warming up, so we agreed to separate. I could just see a bunch of towfloats in the distance, thankfully in a group making them easier to spot (and alarmingly off route a bit to the left) so I struck out for them. At this point I was totally on my own, and crossing a bit of sea that while on the boat had had a string of jetskis passing at high speed in quick succession. Thankfully they didn’t come back past then, I don’t think they would have seen me in time. There were a couple of yachts though, keeling over impressively. I passed one of our support crew on a board, he was going the other way but paused for me to say that my friend was also swimming alone and he checked that he could see her which made me feel less guilty about splitting up. After a while I realised I wasn’t going to catch the group up, they were swimming at the same speed. I kept thinking I was, but it’s just that I had crested a wave so they looked closer. I didn’t feel too bad about swimming alone behind the pod. I normally freak out when I swim in the sea as the ocean is always changing – dark one minute, light the next, here a sudden patch of weed, there a jellyfish that appeared out of nowhere, but today it was reassuringly consistent. With the sea being so choppy the sediment was disturbed so I could only see down a little way, and it was a bright day despite being overcast so the water was yellow all round, hiding the fact that it is up to 17m deep across the bay at high tide. But my calm didn’t last as my neoprene sleeve popped out of the shoulder of my wetsuit (the sleeves are separate items that you tuck in), and I started to think I wouldn’t be able to attract the attention of any staff, and what if something more serious went wrong? I waved a few times with a quiet call but nobody saw. Thankfully when I shouted louder somebody heard and came back to help – unfortunately I couldn’t do it myself as I was wearing neoprene gloves, rendering me helpless.

A little while later the group ahead paused to re-group and I caught them up. I said “thank god I caught you, I thought there would be a boat”, meaning a craft of some sort near me while I was my own pod. The other crew said “so did we”. “Wait”, I said, “is there no boat at all?” “There’s meant to be, but we don’t know where it is”. This was alarming, the main safety boat has gone AWOL and the other crew aren’t in communication with it? I was surprised they didn’t have radios, I had done a relay race in Budleigh the Sunday before and there were three kayaks out all with their own radios, and that was just a 400m course. My distress levels were topped back up, but I carried on as the swimming itself was going just fine, and sometimes you just need waves smashing in your face to being you back to life, and other general life worries began to dissolve away. Whilst in the pod my friend re-materialised having got into her pace, caught me up and continued on ahead faster than I could keep up with along with the others, I was pleased she wasn’t alone, even though she is an extremely competent swimmer and has done may of these events before.

After an hour I started to feel the first hint that I was cooling down. For the second time today I thought I wouldn’t finish the swim, since it was due to be 3 to 3 ½ hours in total. Thankfully, very soon after that, the rib appeared – hoorah! And a little while later came back bringing our nutrition supplies for a mid-way feed. Eating mid-swim was a strange feeling but I think it helped give my body an energy boost. For liquid I was using a bottle attached to my tow float, and I was convinced that the level in it was actually going up, but it still tasted of lush squash, so if any salt water had seeped in it was still less salty than the sea, which was shockingly salty when I put my face back in.

I just continued pressing on, in a flow now. A toot from Marella Discovery, one of the cruise ships in the bay (see photo), seeped into my consciousness as the main pod of swimmers went past it. ‘Ooh that’s a nice gesture’ I thought, shortly followed by ‘unless it’s warning us of a shark’. It occurred to me that while I was cold and shivering (and it was my core rather than my legs), I wasn’t getting any worse and I wasn’t in any trouble, unlike my experiences over the recent winter. I had been wet and cold up on mountains but wasn’t worried then, so this was no different, and I started chanting to myself “just got to get off this mountain”. The waves had picked up a bit. Occasionally one broke over me and when I swung my arm forward it never breached the surface, but I actually really enjoy swimming in a proper sea. There is a limit of course, when you can’t rise and fall with the swell and are unable to breathe, but with a lower level of swell or chop it actually feels like the sea is doing what it’s meant to be doing, and it’s nice to be at one with that rhythm. I was looking straight down and not seeing anything, which pleased me. There was the odd scrap of weed that whizzed past on one stroke and was entirely gone the next, and the same with some compass jellyfish – one near Churston and a few more nearer Meadfoot, but there were so few that they didn’t faze me, even though I had to dodge a particularly large one. Although there was nothing notable beneath me, at the same time there was everything – a swirling, shifting mass of one-dimensional colour. It occurred to me that it was like blinking inside a whirlwind, everything churning around and different on each stroke.

Slowly Meadfoot crept closer. The sun came out a little too, which lightened the lively waters beneath me and warmed my arms and shoulders, and I knew I would finish then. At this point I had dropped so far behind the main pod that I had my own prone board as support, she was getting blown by the wind so we were never side by side but I was pleased to have a companion. I had to make a couple of stops to adjust my kit. My sleeves popped out a couple of times, and also my suit sometimes started flushing water which cooled me down too much. I was wearing a buff to prevent chafing, and somehow, despite the gloves, I managed to push it down the back of the suit just pulling a little bit back up to minimise the chafe, which worked well to stop the water invading, and I managed to maintain my remaining warmth. Inbetween those pauses I had a really good stroke going. I was breathing every fourth stroke which was really unlike me, I’m usually every two when there are waves, and bilateral otherwise, but that was too much oxygen today so I dropped the frequency. It was easy to relax here as I no longer needed constant mental awareness, sighting was easy as the cliff was closer and much more prominent up ahead, and oceanic wildlife was reassuringly absent. I did a mental assessment at this point: sea conditions – perfect; fear - none; energy levels – fine, both shoulders starting to ache but otherwise good; distress and unhappiness – high. But the reasons for the distress were behind me and suddenly I realised the rest was great and I was enjoying myself for the first time

My support pointed out the main pod way ahead, barely visible from my low position in the water, and said to aim for them, this was a little off my original track so I picked a suitable tree on the cliff above them and struck for that. But some time later she said that they weren’t in the right place after all so gave me a new heading to Meadfoot slipway, which was actually where I had been heading in the first place. Now though we had moved in line with it and I had to swim across the current to get to it, and it was hard work. In fact, after a bit of strong pulling I was suddenly alarmed that I might have been swimming in the same spot for quite some time so I looked around me for some features to take reference off. I wondered if I would have to be picked up tantalisingly close to the finish line. I spotted a buoy nearby, and although I was, thankfully, progressing past it toward the shore, I was also getting swept north east. My crew and I hatched a plan where she would go and hang on to the buoy, then the next one, and I would aim west and gradually creep closer to her, and that worked. With this greater effort I was definitely warmer, and it didn’t matter that the sun had gone again and it had started to rain. I heard a strange unidentified tinkling noise in the water that I have heard before, and thought my tinnitus was playing up, but a moment later a boat appeared from my rear flank and cut across me so close I was instantly bouncing in its wake. My support had tried to attract their attention to tell them to be careful to no avail. Thankfully though I was one buoy away from the shore now, and this one was the 5 knot buoy (see photo) beyond which no boats can go faster than this. My slow creep forward against the current eventually paid off and I was at the slipway, crawling up on all fours as I couldn’t seem to find my feet and operate my land legs. I was given a chocolate muffin which I practically inhaled, then went to the car to get dry and warm, before returning to the slip to soak up the atmosphere of the finish. A little stock check revealed some chafed patches on my neck despite k-tape, luub AND the buff; my tongue was sore and I looked really strange (see photo); I couldn't lift my arms very high; and the contents of my dry bag that had my nutrition in had been stood on and the satsuma obliterated leaving a juicy orange coating over all the other items, but apart from that all was good and I had made it! It had been just the right level of challenge to feel like I was doing something quite special. I’d swum the distance – 7370m in the end with the course adjustments - total time in water 3:19 (see strava track), I actually wasn’t shivering, and it was time to celebrate in the café with a hot chocolate. And a halloumi salad. And a chocolate bar. And a cider. Well, that’s what we do all this for, isn’t it? 😊