Wild swimming

... or what folks in days of yore would have called 'swimming'.

Yesterday I finally got round to something I wanted to do before leaving Devon - swim in one of the Dartmoor rivers.  It's been years since I last did any wild swimming, in Loch Hasco on Skye, I think.  The sea around the south west and Pembrokeshire doesn't count, although possibly the east and west coasts of Iona and Sandwood Bay (very briefly!) might.  I had thought of floating down the Otter to the sea, but there hasn't been enough rain and the water level is too low, so Dartmoor seemed a better bet.

So Alice and I umm'ed and aah'ed and looked at the forecast, and weighed up the other option of blackberrying, and eventually decided to go for it.  We parked in Hembury Woods near Buckfastleigh.  There are handy signs from the car park down to the Dart, and we managed to find a section which wasn't rapids and looked deep enough.  Alice was still dubious, but on with the wetsuits and in we plunged... and wow!  Roger Deakin (Waterlog) and Alice Roberts (BBC4 prog) and everyone else are more than right.  There is nothing like it.  Total immersion in river and banks and woods and valley and rapids and sunshine and dragonflies and rocks and current and cold and peat and silkiness.  We attempted to swim against the current, which gave us a good look at a small section of bank for a few minutes, and then we stopped and floated downstream.  We got out just above the island, and walked back further to the upper rapids for the thrill of plunging into the fast current, then did it again in just swimsuits.  Too many people walking their dogs for skinny dipping!

The feeling of exhilaration and the big grin lasted all the way back to Exeter.  No pictures, I'm afraid.  Nary a camera between us.