“Just try to breathe deeply – bury your feet under the mud and put your hands under your armpits.” These are the words of wisdom from Richard Brown, head ranger at the Wilderness Reserve and our swimming guide for the morning, as we prepare to enter the glass-calm water of the on-site lake. It is one of those perfect autumn days that you dream about when faced with the more-oft rain-drenched, permanently overcast version: the sky an expanse of purest sapphire, the sun so bright I wish I’d brought shades. And beneath it, in this unspoilt spot of the Suffolk countryside, miles of gently undulating green peppered with centuries-old trees.
It’s pin-drop quiet, too, save for our nervous chatter and giggling as we make our way to the lakeside, gussied up in swimwear and soft, blush-pink robes. We’re slightly wrong-footed – literally – on the approach, when what appeared to be grass turns out to be foot-submerging marshland. Good practice, perhaps, for what lies ahead.
Guests are invited to go for a morning lake dip
(Helen Coffey)
The sun may be shining, but that doesn’t change the fact that our breath is leaving steam clouds in the air: it’s pretty damn cold. Hence Richard’s aforementioned tips on enduring the sub-10C water on this brisk November day. I notice a distinct reticence descend on the group when the time comes to strip off and put his advice to the test. As a seasoned cold-water sea swimmer, I decide to lead the charge, stepping in over the side and filling my lungs as the sharp chill hits my skin. Even by my standards it is shiver-inducing, but I shimmy my feet under the mud and shove my hands under my armpits as instructed.
A minute later, my brain has relaxed enough to properly appreciate the double-take beauty of the surroundings; the corners of my mouth creep up into a smile and I begin to take lazy strokes through the water. I can hear the splash and gasp of the others behind me as they take the plunge for varying lengths of time. It is a dizzying moment of euphoria.
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Once out, we flock around the fire Richard has built to warm us up as coffees and hot toddies are distributed and bacon is fried up in a giant skillet in front of us, before being tucked into crusty rolls and passed into eager hands. I hold back on the latter, for two reasons. Firstly, we’re about to be…
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