“Don’t bother with your bra,” says Kari. “Really, just don’t go there.” It’s good advice. Shaking with cold, my hands are rapidly turning into icy lumps.
The stinging pain is shocking, and getting worse by the second. Staggering into my pants – my friend Samantha holds them out for me to clamber into just as you would for a small child – I’m well past caring what anyone else on the beach thinks of my flailing attempts to get dressed.
Nor can I do much about my pathetic groans and yelps as the wind buffets any exposed flesh and my hands begin to throb in earnest.
As I plunge into the waters off Thurlestone Beach in South Devon, I think this is really putting the ‘wild’ into wild swimming.
Technically, any outdoor dip counts, be it a river, lake or the sea, but since the point is to really get out there and expose yourself to the elements, I’ve decided to try the most extreme version I can – and the English Channel in the depths of February is turning out to be pretty hardcore.
Kari Furre, a veteran wild swimmer and my guide today grins when I tell her I’m worried it won’t be considered proper wild swimming if I wear a wetsuit.
“The water’s at its very coldest in March, but it’s only about five to eight degrees now,” she reasons. “There are some people who love it like that, but you need to acclimatise.”
Point taken, so I’ve done as advised and borrowed a triathlon-standard wetsuit from a friend.
The sun is shining – “Our first beautiful day after weeks of rain,” smiles Kari – so all togged up and wearing the gloves and socks I’d bought that morning from the local surf shop, we march cheerfully out into the ragged waves.
I’d reassured Kari that I was a confident swimmer.
Not to show off, but this is true – it’s the only sport I’ve ever been good at. I hadn’t mentioned, however, that I’m also a very unfit one, and haven’t even swum a length of a pool for quite a few years. Too late now.
Chilled seawater starts trickling into my suit as I kick hard for the Thurlestone Arch, a rock bridge about 500 metres out into the bay.
Cold water on warm skin makes you gasp, and fast, shallow breathing doesn’t help your co-ordination or control. Added to this is the effort of swimming with your buoyancy all to cock because of the wetsuit – basically, your feet float up in the water and it means doing breast-stroke with any sort of style is quite impossible.
Kari, however, a qualified swimming coach, looks like a sleek seal in the water, sliding through the waves with seemingly no effort at all.
“Never swim alone” is a mantra dedicated wild swimmers live by and for a complete novice an experienced guide who knows the local waters is essential.
Kari insists we take short breathers and keeps checking I’m good to go on.
With her support, and almost without noticing, we’re suddenly at the arch, where massive waves are breaking over the reef beneath our feet and bashing their way through the hole in the rock.
“Fancy swimming through it?” Kari asks. You don’t swim out to an arch without going through it, I think, even if the waves are swooshing alarmingly up and down its rocky face.
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Luckily, the swell shunts us through the arch easily, and our reward is a fish’s eye view of two cormorants’ creamy tummies as they launch themselves off their ledge.
Helped back to the beach by the tide, the swim into shore is a cinch – until I try to get out of the water.
Bashed by the waves rushing in and then dragging me back to sea, I find my only option is to throw dignity to the bitter winds and crawl inelegantly up the beach.
Despite the sunshine, the whip of wind on wet skin as we change bites deep into my body, but I can’t stop grinning.
I’ve managed a half-hour swim at the beginning of February, in water nearly as cold as it ever gets in this country.
My reward has been a close up encounter with a beautiful geological feature that most people will only ever see from shore – oh, and serious bragging rights.
Half-day swim clinic costs £90 for two swimclinic.squarespace.com; salcombeinformation.co.uk
Getting there
Take the train from London Paddington to Totnes from around £32 one-way with First Great Western, if booked in advance.
A taxi from Totnes to Thurlestone costs approx £25.
No more sand in your egg sandwiches – The Galley Girls will make you a personalised hamper containing the best of local produce. Prices start from £9.50.
Renowned among locals and visitors, The Winking Prawn is on North Sands beach, and serves a fabulous array of seafood from £14.
There are few nicer places to relax with a drink than dickandwills, a New England-style brasserie and bar on the waterside with views stretching out into the Salcombe Estuary. Pints from £2.60.
Award-winning Victoria Inn offers a great selection of ales, which you can quaff while watching boats pootle up and down. Pints from £2.60.
Stunning sea views and superb service at the fabulous Thurlestone Hotel. Rooms from £190pn with breakfast.
The YHA Hostel high on a hill overlooking the Salcombe Estuary has to be one of the best budget gaffs in the country. Dorm beds from £17pn.
Photos: Samantha Hyde
