Like almost everyone else, I have been feeling appalled, angry and helpless about the horrific news from Gaza. My brother Ed isn’t feeling helpless though. He is swimming in 26 ‘wild’ places this summer, one for each letter of the alphabet, to raise money for Medical Aid for Palestinians.
Supporting Ed and helping elicit donations felt like one way I could help people in truly hellish circumstances. So on Friday I joined him as he ticked off five more letters on his alphabet challenge.
G for Greysands
First dip of the day was at Greysands beach, at the mouth of the Taw and Torridge Estuary. It’s at the tip of a large expanse of dunes, salt marsh and rough grassland, and despite being between the busy seaside towns of Appledore and Westward Ho! felt wild and almost empty. We picked our way through samphire and marshy mud, carefully avoiding the flocks of small waders skittering about, and into the water, which felt suprisingly warm and silky smooth. Conscious that we had four more swims to go we didn’t linger too long, but, endorphins buzzing, drove a short distance down the estuary to:
A for Appledore Quay
No mud to negotiate here, we sauntered down the lifeboat slipway and into the water. Though we were no distance from Greysands, the water was colder and more bracing. The tide was running in fast and I didn’t notice until Ed pointed out that we were being carried upriver at a swift pace. I then had to swim furiously to get back to the slipway, the only point where we could easily exit the water. I’m not a strong swimmer and despite my exertions seemed to stay in one spot, the slipway out of reach. I feared I was going to ruin Ed’s day by being carried all the way to Bideford bridge two miles upstream. However I made it back to the slipway, or close enough for Ed to reach me and haul me out. Phew. We jumped in the car for swim no. 3:
V for Velator Quay
Swimming spots beginning with V are few and Ed had picked Velator on the basis of its initial, with little idea what it would be like. It’s on the edge of Braunton and a good mile from the sea. We parked close to the Quay Café and Quay Softplay Centre, but the quay itself was hard to find. After several false starts we set off along a footpath which eventually led to a narrow muddy creek. On the opposite bank were many ominous drains into the river and a man burning rubbish. Carcasses of improbably large old boats lay in mud. Eventually the channel widened and we saw some very small boats bobbing on the not very deep water. Velator quay has clearly passed its heyday. I was flooded with relief when I remembered this was Ed’s challenge, not mine, and I didn’t actually have to enter the water.
Ed is made of sterner stuff though, and picked his way over algae-covered stones to swim a couple of laps round the nearest boat. Then he exited the water and we returned to the Quay Café for coffee and cake.
Next on our programme was:
R for Rapparee Cove
Rapparee, just east of Ilfracombe, has a small sandy beach surrounded by a ring of rocky cliffs. We climbed down the steep steps looking forward to the first real sea swim of the day. Two young women were bobbing in the waves, deep in conversation, they looked for all the world like mermaids. The water was cold and the waves were invigorating and we enjoyed a quick body surf.
It’s a delightful spot but Rapparee was the site of a grim episode in history, which I half remembered and looked up when I got home. In 1796 a ship sank there and many people, estimates vary between 40 and around 100, drowned. Many of them drowned because they were in manacles. Many of them were Black. There is controversy over whether these people were French prisoners of war (including freed slaves) or enslaved Africans being taken for sale at Bristol. This question has never been satisfied one way or the other and the failure to properly look into it has caused angst and tensions with St Lucia, where the ship, and presumably many of the people, came from. Devon Life has a lively retelling of the story here. Even in an idyllic place we are reminded of man’s inhumanity to man. Then it was on to our final swim:
P for Pinkery Pond
Pinkery Pond is not strictly ‘wild’, it’s a former reservoir high on Exmoor. But it feels wild. It was a 30 minute walk from the road, through open moor, bog and bracken, and we saw almost no people. The pond is more of a lake, covering three acres, and the water a red colour presumably from peat, so that our limbs under the water looked a lurid orange. As it was our last swim and there was no itinerary forcing us onwards, we enjoyed a leisurely swim around and across the pond. At the edges dragonflies patrolled beds of water lilies. As I floated on the delightful cool water, looking up at the clear blue sky, hearing nothing but the splash of the water, and looking forward to the sandwiches waiting in the car, I was struck by the contrast between the day of fun and freedom I was enjoying with my brother and the reality for people in Gaza right now, starving and subject to military assaults. I hope that we can raise some money to help bring essential medical care at this time.
Ed has six swims left to do: J, N, O, U, X and Z. EXemouth and Zennor seem obvious for the last two. Suggestions for the others are welcome.
If you’d like to sponsor him and donate to for Medical Aid for Palestinians, you can do so here: https://www.justgiving.com/page/swimmingforpalestine