Seacombe Sands

Wild Swimming

Wild Swimming

If anything the surf has picked up a little more since we walked by a few hours earlier.  Maybe it is because the tide has turned.  Whatever the reason some of the waves are now breaking in a line of tumbling, darting foam that extends point-to-point across the golden sand.

The beach is busy so finding a place to change is not as easy as usual and we end up stacking our clothes and bags on a rock.

Wading out the sand slides from under my feet as the sea surges forwards and back, whilst the waves push me forward and back as I try to take a few photos.  The seabed however is banked in a series of ridges so whilst at one moment I’m nearly chest deep a few steps on and I’m only waist deep again.

The water also feels cooler than earlier now that the sun has been all but obscured by clouds but where the sun punches through it fans out in rays that dapple the horizon.  From my point of view beyond the surf line I am quite content to just bob about a bit beneath this celestial light show.  It’s not that cold after all.

Back on the beach we are towelling off when we get treated to an amusing moment.  Some of the other beach goers have been watching the crazies and have decide to try out in the sea.  A chap dashes down the surf, wades out to waist deep, dives under and then runs straight back to the beach and a towel.  Meanwhile a woman in a small black bikini wades into the sea, she makes it to a bit over waist deep, hesitates and then discretely backs onto the beach.  Clearly they are not as crazy as we thought.

All this has distracted us and we’ve let our guard down.  The attach comes at lightening speed, a spaniel dashes around my legs, leaps up the rock, grabs J’s Stollen cake and is gone in a flash.  This is not funny, this is not something that can be dismissed.  The only reasonable response would be to bury the dog on the beach and wait for the tide to come in.  The dog’s owner apparently does not agree and is so laid back about the theft of J’s lunch that she lets the dog back to hoover up the crumbs from the overturned mince pies.

Unbe-fucking-lievable!

My 100 Swims South-West Google map.

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