Why open-water adventurers should try ‘cross-country swimming’ in south Devon

Combining hiking, camping and numerous cold-water paddles, this new breed of activity holiday hits all the right notes, says Nina Zietman

Swim for your supper on a cross-country adventure (Lisa Bretherick)

The sharp wind stung my cheeks as I pulled my hands through the icy water. There was only 500 metres to go, but my legs felt like granite. In the distance, I spied a Union Jack flapping violently – it marked the finish line, The Swan Inn at Noss Mayo. Most Sundays, I’m still tucked in bed with a cup of tea, pondering a roast. Today, instead of hiking to the pub for lunch, I was swimming to it.

I’ve long romanticised the idea of open-water swimming. No chlorine, no kids and no crowds. It turns out I’m not the only one. Open-water swimming has surged in popularity in recent years. An estimated 7.5 million people regularly swim outdoors, according to Swim England. So, when I came across the concept of cross-country swimming – a combination of hiking and open-water swimming – I was sold. Armed with my wetsuit and goggles, I boarded the train to Plymouth for a weekend of water, walking and camping in south Devon.

On arrival, I quickly realised our weekend base, a true off-grid idyll on the edge of Dartmoor, was far from a regular sterile campsite. Meandering woodland paths led to an open-air kitchen, fully stocked with everything from bacon and eggs to Pukka tea. Beyond, there was a canopied fire pit, compost loo, wood-fired hot tub and, blessedly, a hot shower surrounded by a carpet of bluebells.

I was greeted by Nigel, our camp leader, an ex-Army Commando Physical Training Instructor dressed in a regulation camouflage DryRobe. He introduced me to the group. I’m more novice than triathlete, but my concerns about not having completed ultra-marathon length swims were quickly quelled. Nigel assured us that the pace was leisurely. “We’re here to enjoy ourselves, not race each other,” he pointed out during the evening briefing.

I awoke early the next morning to the sound of Nigel’s voice. “Troops, assemble by the tents at 07.00 hours for a morning dip.” He paused. “Optional, of course”. We padded through the morning dew down to the River Plym for a bracing dunk, the swimming equivalent of two espresso shots. Breakfast was waiting for us back at the campfire – sizzling bacon sandwiches, alongside a steaming cup of tea.

Swimmers can enjoy south Devon’s fabulous landscapes (Lisa Bretherick)

Will Watt, co-founder of the retreat, handed out RuckRafts that make the cross-country swim adventure possible. It’s essentially an inflatable horseshoe accompanied by a large waterproof sack; you tuck your day pack inside the dry bag and strap it to the raft. A leash attaches around your waist – like a regular tow float – so you drag it behind you while you swim.

We boarded the minibus, bound for Mothecombe Beach. The drizzle dissipated, revealing glorious sunshine for our 3km stomp down the coastal path. Nigel pointed out a seal bobbing in the water, before we tugged on our wetsuits and dived into the River Erme for our first 700m swim. The water was bone-chilling, but flanked by four lifeguards, I felt in safe hands. We crossed the estuary, dried off and wolfed down a scotch egg, before setting off along the coastal path again.

We padded through the morning dew down to the River Plym for a bracing dunk, the swimming equivalent of two espresso shots

Despite the military lingo, the day didn’t feel like a regimented boot camp. Chatter and laughter provided the backing track to our hike, with Nigel occasionally stopping to point out edible plants and local landmarks. The pace was unhurried, but I was glad I felt confident in open water – the swim distances range from just under a kilometre to three kilometres, depending on the weather conditions. Afterwards, we were whisked back to Dartmoor for a well-deserved feast of fish and chips, and a couple of pints at The Skylark Inn in Clearbrook, as the sun dipped behind the tors.

Day two presented more challenging weather. Lashing rain and 40mph winds were predicted, so we hit the road, eager to time our first swim with the pushing tide. A slippery clamber took us to Wembury on the River Yealm. The water was a wince-worthy 11C for our first 1.2km swim, but Nigel kept us warm by setting a steady pace uphill through the woodland afterwards.

Trips combine energetic hikes with open water swims (Simon Weller)

By the time we reached our final swim, I was ready for my pub lunch. I could practically smell the chips. Dodging moored yachts and each other's RuckRafts, we splashed our way upstream towards the Union Jack, marking our finish point. Hauling our weary bodies out of the water, we high-fived each other for battling the cold on a wet Sunday morning.

Afterwards, as I changed out of my wetsuit in the harbour car park, the howling winds whipped up my tiny towel, treating the residents of Noss Mayo to a rather undignified view of me in my pants. Luckily, any dampened enthusiasm was quickly restored with a hot toddy and crab linguine in the oh-so-cute Swan Inn.

Swimmers are given RuckRafts to carry their belongings (Lisa Bretherick)

Despite numb toes, an assortment of blisters and my momentary loss of dignity, I boarded the train home with a warm glow. The kind you can only get after a weekend of braving the elements, washed down with a couple of pints and plenty of laughter. Am I a budding triathlete now? Not quite, but I’m certainly inspired to embark on more cross-country swim adventures this summer.

Travel Essentials

A three-day cross-country swimming RuckRaft retreat costs £324 per person (Friday evening to Sunday afternoon). Dates range from June to October.

You can get the train from London Paddington to Plymouth in 3.5 hours, but it’s easier to drive to the woodland campsite near Bickleigh, Devon. For more information, visit abovebelow.sc.