Chagford: The last of the lidos

Saturday: Chagford
The last of the lidos

Having left the luxury of our Cotswolds yurt, we camped in Buckfastleigh on Friday night and hastily packed up on Saturday morning as the black clouds drew in from all directions. The walk on Dartmoor was abandoned over coffee and teacakes as a much more appealing plan was hatched with my husband (who shall now be known as Lars for reasons I cannot possibly explain): drive North to Chagford where the weather is better, walk by the river until mid afternoon when the LIDO opens (big big SMILE) and go for a last swim before continuing to Ilfracombe for the evening.

Chagford is a quaint village in the middle of Dartmoor with lovely shops and cafes, and an even lovelier lido. The lido http://www.chagfordpool.co.uk/ is just out of the village on a country lane, surrounded by fields. It's almost as simple as lidos come, except that it recently had a new liner which the lido lady said has made a big difference to the temperature of the water and the general swimming experience. It's fed by the river which runs beside it and it's heated.. a bit.

We arrived after a stormy afternoon (during which Lars impersonated Darth Vader in his big black poncho as we walked beside the river) and it was still drizzling as I popped my head around the shed-like reception to ask if they were still open. The answer was a bit ambiguous; "Well, we might close early and you'd have to get out if it's thundering", but yes, they were open.

I dragged Lars, kicking and screaming out of the car, paid the £8 fee for two swims, doubling their profits for the day, and found the ladies. It was like stepping back in time to PE lessons, 1985. The facilities at Chagford are basic. There are no hot showers, which I failed to mention to Lars until we got out of the pool, (oops) and no Bristol-style cotton curtains and shiny clasps for privacy in the changing rooms, but this all adds to the experience.

The pool is gorgeous. The liner really does make a difference. It's soft under foot, and the river water feels... soft too. We have the whole pool to ourselves and we revel in the space and peace, swimming miles away from each other, just because we can. The sky clears as we swim until it looks just like the lido's logo, which you can purchase on a mug to take away with you, (if you have a lovely husband who will buy you one).

You can also purchase a cup of tea from the little shed which is served in a Chagford swimming pool mug, so we do, and snuggle on the bench (we do like each other really, I just like my space when I'm swimming), chatting to the lovely lido ladies.

It's with a touch of sadness that we leave Chagford, as it means the end to our lido tour of the South West. (Don't despair, I have a cunning plan which involves Ilkley lido and a bike ride in a few weeks time, so watch this space.) 

We have a long debate in Netti on the drive up to Ilfracombe about our favourite lido, and both come to the conclusion that we LOVED them all (when I say "we", that's me really). Lars thinks he liked Cheltenham the best, and though he goes into detail about the size and lanes and swimming, I know it's really because of the very expensive picnic and the ICE CREAM.

For me, there was something very special about being that person swimming across Tinside Lido, (the one in Kate Rew's book who I have envied for years), but I did love them all. Cheltenham for its swimability, Bristol for its shiny clasps, Cirencester because we didn't have to cycle 35 miles to get there, (and the lovely lifeguards), Tinside, well, it's just sooo BIG and blue, and last, but definitely not least, Chagford, for its softness (and, did I mention its mugs?). 

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Tinside Lido: The Big Blue One

Friday: Tinside Lido, Plymouth

The Big Blue One

I have been yearning to swim in Tinside lido ever since I was first wowed by the amazing photographs in Kate Rew’s Wild Swim. As far as lidos go, this appeared to be the cream; massive, art deco, unheated, salt water and located right on the edge of the Atlantic ocean. It did not disappoint.

Hubby and I left our yurt in the pouring rain and drove a loaded Hetti down to Plymouth, bargaining with the weather Gods for a sunny afternoon. And sunshine it did, so that we were greeted with a spectacular first sighting of the lido: sparkling, blue, sooo BIG and empty. Empty of people that is, not of water, that would have been a HUGE disappointment.

I could barely contain myself and galloped up the street to the newly installed lift which drops you down to sea level and makes the lido accessible for anyone who cannot manage the steps. The physio in me finds this very pleasing and gives the lido bonus points for accessibility, until the lift won’t work! I then have to gallop down the steps, trying not to look desperate (I am now worried that in the few extra minutes it takes to get there the lido will have filled with a school party of non-lido-appreciating kids) and trying to wait for hubby, who lacks the child-like excitement I have for getting cold and wet.

We pay the lady on reception, and I whizz around like Superman in my changing cubicle to get into my cossie and into the water as fast as I can.

There is one 50m lane that runs across the widest part of the pool, next to the fountain (extra bonus points for a fountain, which promptly get removed when I discover that the turbulence caused by the fountain throws me off course on every length.) There is a stalwart swimmer, breast-stroking up and down next to the lane, and a small but very fast dolphin-like child who does a few speedy lengths to show us up. Other than that, husband and I have the whole pool to ourselves.

It’s gorgeous! Salty, cold, choppy (due to the wind and fountain combo) and it’s so big. I manage 20 lengths in wiggly lines and a bit of underwater exploration around the curve before I am too cold and head for the hot showers. Then we spend an hour or so drinking tea from the “hole in the wall” cafe, wrapped in our down jackets, faces to the sun. 

I love it here, I love the view, I love the lines and the curves, I love the blue of the stripes and the sky and the white of the walls and the clouds. I take my own photos and I discover that it’s not the photographer which makes them look good, it’s Tinside lido.