Escape from storm Ciara

Hello and welcome!

If ever there was a day to escape from reality then surely it's today when the whole of the UK is being battered by Storm Ciara with winds forecast at 80 mph, huge waves pounding our coasts and power cuts threatening many. So let me lead you away from all of that and join my friends Kate and Fiona as we revisit a day last August for a post-work sea swim.

Our cycle route to Pentle Bay took us along the Abbey Drive through lush green vegetation under majestic trees. Excitement and anticipation added a frisson to our babble of chat about the state of the tide, wind direction and the potential for jellyfish, because today was no ordinary day as we were being shadowed by a film crew and also professional photographer James Darling, who were collecting material for a marketing project for Tresco Island. Our daily dip was the final scene to be captured for use in the recruitment drive for the 2020 season.

The photo shoot had none of the luxuries of hair and make-up nor has James photoshopped these images. I want to talk about this first as vanity tripped me up when I first viewed the photos. I'm pretty much at ease with being seen in my swimsuit as it's what I wear at some point most days, but, somewhat naively, I hadn't really considered how I might be seen through the (professional) camera's eye. Well, it seems that the reality of my self-image needed some radical recalibration! In my head I suppose I must still think I have the figure of my 30 year old self. Aren't we all a bit like that? We remember ourselves in our prime, holding that impression in a handy copy and paste mode when the lumpy truth threatens our mental well being. Issues with body image can haunt us no matter what age it seems. I continue to speak out to shed light and help dispel shame. I'm not overweight nor claim to be, but still feel under pressure due to the imagery we're subjected to daily. 

I know that I often publish photos of myself in a swimsuit, but like most bloggers I choose to share the best, most flattering and certainly never back views! I was initially shocked then downhearted at the rear view of myself. Cellulite and drapey skin are ever present in these shots forcing a certain amount of coming to terms with my 62 year old body. But as my dear husband kindly - and I do mean kindly - pointed out, I write with honesty and try my best to show myself as I truly am. What is the use in me trying to inspire women of my generation when I'm still deluding myself as to who I am? To this end, I'm including photos that I would normally omit as after all, we don't want to scare the horses do we? But, joking aside, if you ever seek me out I don't want you to be shocked after seeing me in soft focus for so long. My fragile ego desires me to be perfect and the perfectionist in me would like that too, but this is the truth of the matter and it deserves or begs no pity from you. Here I am, warts cellulite an' all!

After a certain amount of coming to terms, I decided to post this photo on my Instagram with this text - "We're all equal in the sea, our little heads bobbing above the water, laughter in the air and salt upon our tongues. Age, cellulite and wobbly bits all fade into insignificance as this common bond of wild swimming knits our friendship deeper." And really that's what this post is all about. For years I've been a solitary swimmer, seeing the time as one for meditation and reflection but, last summer was one of group swims which brought new dimensions and time to enrich friendships and forge new ones.

That post-swim energy has us all buzzing, talking about stray seaweed feeling as if it was tentacles of jellyfish. Fiona hates seaweed almost as much as jellyfish.

All cosied up, it's time for a hot drink as the discussion turns to the next swimming adventures for each of us. Kate wants to crack her freestyle stroke, Fiona had plans for the inter-island swim only a couple of weeks away and I was gearing towards my swim around Tresco. 

Previously I might have balked at showing you this necklace choker of wrinkles, but I'm biting the bullet and sharing what's normal for my age. (I'm working at removing perfect and replacing it with normal.) 

As storm Ciara rises in ferocity outside my window, I'm drawing on the feel-good factor of this little outing. It never ceases to amaze me that we can have this fun without spending a penny. Mother Nature has given us the most beautiful of playgrounds here on the idyllic island of Tresco and that's something we always voice when we stop to enjoy the view. 

We're so lucky to live here!

All photos by James Darling courtesy of Tresco Island

Training day

The day after our last summer show, this was me, out in deep water in training for my big swim. My plan has been to crack the leg from New Grimsby around the North End of the island through Kettle Neck which is the bogeyman as far as I'm concerned. Kettle Rock is exposed, to a greater or lesser degree, according to the tide. Often it's not safe to pass through the neck of water as the tidal surge can lift a boat towards the rocks on either side with dangerous speed. If it can lift a boat, then of course it can easily wash a swimmer against the rocks too. 

This was my second attempt to swim this leg. It was Saturday morning and the tide was coming in, meaning I was swimming with the tide, giving me the best advantage possible. Much as the physical advantage was with me, mentally I was a bit wobbly. I much prefer swimming alongside the beaches as the they not only look pretty but offer an easy exit. Not that I would be exiting onto the rocks on these long swims as Steve accompanies me in our boat which has a set of steps for me to clamber onto if I need to. Still, this shoreline conjures up fear in my belly. Long distance sea swimming is similar to long distance running as it's all about having the right mindset. Some days that's easier than others.

Behind me is Cromwell's Castle, about halfway into my quest. I'd settled into my rhythm by then, breathing steadily and counting my rolling strokes in one yacht, two yachts, three yachts ... The counting helps to focus the mind, stopping that element of panic that takes me over when I consider being out here doing this crazy thing that is wild swimming. Feel the fear and do it anyway, never felt so real.

The end of the island is just coming into sight with Kettle Rock beyond when my trusty boatman made the call to take me out of the water. There was a ground sea on creating a tidal surge over the rocks, making it too risky for us to pass through this morning.

You can probably read the look of relief on my face. I wasn't sorry that Steve had made that call. It had been a lively swim so far and it was only going to get more so as I rounded through the neck. 

We turned tail and headed back home.

That afternoon I decided to walk the coastal path above where I'd swum. Seeing the stretch of water, imagining my strokes cutting through the water, counting my breath, one yacht, two yachts, three yachts ... 

The big black rock on the right, beyond the shore is Kettle Rock, my nemesis.

It was interesting to watch boats choose the outside line, avoiding Kettle Neck completely. These guys know what they're doing, and so does Steve having spent almost all his life here, messing about in boats, learning to read the sea, respecting the times to not even be on the water when it's too wild. If I'm to swim around the whole of Tresco then I need to leave the worrying to him.

The view looked picturesque, but when I was out there this morning, it felt anything but.

Less than 24 hours later and I was back in the water, making another attempt at rounding Kettle Rock. It was 7am as we left New Grimsby, the sun hidden by the clouds, the tide coming in, and the wind had dropped leaving the sea looking more like a calm lake. I felt completely different this time. "You can do this, you can do this, you can do this!" I'd repeated to my reflection as I was zipping up my wetsuit. The fear in my gut had been replaced by excitement and I was ready to give it another go.

With no waves to distract me, the swim became easy, the stroke a repetitive rocking, a meditative motion that calmed me, each action a gentle movement that was part of a rolling dance, each breath an exchange of inhale and exhale that happened mindlessly. This was flow.

As we rounded the end of the island, the swell of the Atlantic stole the calm waters introducing a lively aspect to the swim.

And then, without too much fuss or fanfare, I was suddenly through the Neck and out of the other side. Steve had shepherded me along the way, guiding me as I peered up from time to time, pointing me in the right direction. His face, alert yet calm, telling me it was safe. My success was a joint effort - we had done it! 

Now that I've achieved this leg, I feel much more optimistic about the round island challenge as a whole. Steve and I are looking at the tide chart to find the best day to plan our outing. The weather will play a big part too so we hope to find the perfect combination of wind and tide making this a feasible venture within the next few weeks. Wish me luck!

                                                                                       Anna x

An evening swim from New Grimsby to Samson

Hello and how are you doing? Have you been enjoying this brilliant sunny weather? The Isles of Scilly are looking resplendent under the brilliant summer sunshine at the moment. I'm including this map today to show you a wee swim I undertook last evening after work. The view from my office at New Grimsby looks directly down the channel towards Samson which is one of my favourite desert islands. Steve and I often take our boat there after work, he to sit on the beach and have a beer and me to swim off the beautiful white corner of sand where all the boats land and depart from. By the end of the day all the tripper boats have gone, taking the visitors back to their island of choice leaving Samson deserted once again. This is our time.

I'd spent most of day yesterday, staring into the distance, longing to be basking in the sunshine on Samson beach (see it in the centre of the photo - that slip of white sand on the island ahead), but work kept dragging me back to reality. We were almost at the close of business when I finally shared my idea with Polly - I wanted to swim to Samson. It's not far, maybe about a mile and half at the most, but that's far enough when I haven't done any open water swimming for a while. My shoreline swimming is a daily routine, but swimming along the beaches doesn't necessarily stretch me out of my comfort zone. 

I messaged Steve with the idea of a beer on Samson at the end of the day and he said yes, then I added that I was going to swim there. Fine was his response. At home I flurried about finding my wetsuit that hadn't seen the light of day for about two years. Earplugs was the next problem, as I'd dropped one of those into the sea the previous evening. A quick scrabble around in my swimming drawer and found my back up pair along with a new pair of goggles in case I needed them.

I squeezed into my wetsuit (heck, I was a bit slimmer last time I wore this!), slipped on my wetsuit boots and followed Steve down to the shore below our house. My heart was racing, panic sending adrenalin to surge through my system at the prospect of this long swim. Not just a long swim, but more the prospect of crossing the open water akin to crossing a busy road on the mainland. Not something you would do without due care and attention. The idea of Steve coming alongside me in this boat offers protection from any traffic. As it was, we encountered a couple of jet boats which tore past at speed leaving me bobbing about in their wash. 

Leaving the shoreline behind meant leaving the warmer eddies of water that linger across the sun-warmed sand and as I crossed the open water I felt the chill of the Atlantic sea. I thought about Ross Edgely as I was in the deeper water and the thing that came to mind was that he always had a song buzzing around his head by way of distraction from the long swim ahead. What came to mind for me was the little ditty of "Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream ..." and that helped to take my mind off the icy water coursing across the back of my neck. The slow beat of the song was the same rhythm as my rolling stroke and did indeed act as a fine accompaniment to the final push towards Samson.  

Steve had a great view from his vantage point.

Nearly there ...

Yay, I made it!

Anna x