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Could surfing in Devon’s ice-cold waters actually be fun, or is it just plain bonkers? We find out

An icy upsurge catches me unawares. My legs spread-eagled for balance, I nose the board into the breaking wave and raise myself elegantly above its crest. At least that was the plan.

Instead, the swell smashes me in the face and continues unsolicited into every narrow cranny between 
me and my seal-like outer layer. Having been ripped, only minutes earlier, from the cosy enclosure of my down jacket and thrust into unfamiliar freezing surrounds – wearing little more than my birthday suit – I feel as good as reborn.

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Winter surfing in Devon
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