We woke up early for a sea swim in Manorbier, in our little caravan at the end of the garden. So far, so Famous Five, apart from the hangovers we had from a bit too much late night boozing in The castle Inn. Throwing open the caravan door we could see low, grey clouds, and there was a distinct chill in the air that we weren't expecting. However, we were excited to meet the appropriately named Peter Kidney the plumber, at the Bay, for our first appointment. So far our interaction with Peter had been my favourite. After learning of him in a telephone conversation with Maggie, who we were to meet later, and a bit of online research, we'd dispatched a carefully worded email to him asking if he'd like to meet us for a swim and a chat. The reply? "nice wind up Craig". Who was Craig and why did Peter Kidney think he was in the habit of masquerading as two girls sending invitations to swim.
Another email and a phone call later has been enough to reassure Peter that we were the genuine article, and here we were, waiting for him in a small car park overlooking the Bay. The sea looked a dark form this morning, apart from the white tips of wind whipped waves. Peter arrived, skidding towards us in his van and sprang, bare chested in his trunks from it's cabin, hand outstretched in greeting. He was enthusiastic to swim and relieved to be sure that we weren't an elaborate ruse concocted by his son, the infamous Craig. As we walked down to the beach on steps hewn in the rock Peter described his regular swim - pointing out to the point, across the bay and back. Only a 20 minute splash around as, he told us, he's not much of a swimmer. His confident dive into the granite waves somewhat belied this statement and we soon lost sight of him in the large swell.
The water was cool but not cold, gritty and salty and alive feeling as it lifted and played with us, teasing with seaweed it had hidden in it's murk. The swell seems much larger when you're in it and Clare and I enjoyed it while staying safe enough near the shore. From the first sight of Peter striking out for the point with strong strokes, I resolved to work on my front crawl. So swimming is emotive and visceral, I still want to be able to plough through the waves like that!
Peter returned in time and we all departed the sea feeling better for it's welcome. We dried off hurriedly on the beach and managed a few words together before Peter had to leave for work. One thing Peter was quite insistent on was that we should meet Eddy, someone who is a local legend in Manorbier. An 83 year old who swims year round in the Bay, his solitary traversing of the water recognisable from the shore by his distinctive double armed backstroke. We'd heard about him from others in the village too, and Clare and I were getting the distinct impression that if the project missed him out, it would be the less because of it. For me too, getting the chance to meet Eddy had a more personal importance, which I'll write about soon. We left the beach, and Peter, with the rest of the day ahead of us, determined to somehow find him.
Becca
