One woman's wild swimming adventures in the west country

Lower Spitchwick

Cold, windy, dank and grey; summer on Dartmoor… Faye and I enter the dark metallic waters of the Dart in the pool above the Cresta Run. Chilly shivers travel through my skin and I want to get out. Looking up it’s a shock to see the summer greens of ferns and trees. I force myself to swim, hating the creep of cold as my hair wicks water. Gusts of wind ruckle the surface as they pass. We clamber down the shallows towards the corner current, its passage marked by little white-capped moguls.  I feel my body being picked up and flung along as I swoop round the bend.


Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: