BOVEY TRACEY

8th August 2016

I very nearly didn’t go to Bovey. Or, to be more accurate, I very nearly didn’t swim at Bovey. I was on my way home from Plymouth, and had planned a swim, but by the time I got to the pool I just felt flat, tired and unusually disinterested in swimming. I sat in the car, outside the fine recreation ground that is home to the pool, for almost half an hour. I still don’t really know what roused me to get out the car… maybe Louise’s ‘there’s no such thing as a bad swim’ rang in my ears.

My legs felt like lead as I pushed through the old fashioned wooden swing gate to enter the recreation ground, but the moment I stepped through the gate and approached the admission desk they lightened. The admission desk forms one side of the basket store, and as you stand and get your money out you can look right through the room to the 25m pool beyond. The glimpse of soft blue, and and happy voices of splashing children, lifted me as they so often do. And the welcoming smiles of the volunteers on duty lifted me further.

I changed with haste, lest I change my mind at the last minute, and discovered that my swim bag wouldn’t fit in the basket. ‘No problem’ said the volunteer manning the basket store window that faces onto the changing room door. ‘I’ll just pop it down next to your basket and you can collect it all at the same time’. I got a numbered pink wrist band in exchange, and was struck by the simplicity of the system. You can take you bags pool side, if you prefer, there are benches, chairs and space for sunbathing and there was a group of parents enjoying the opportunity to sit and chat in the sun while their children swam.

I hadn’t bothered with my cap and goggles. Given the lead in my soul I thought I might just potter up and down, maybe float a while and stare at the sky. I could also see that there was no lane in, this being a public rather than lane swimming session, and thought the chances of any actual swimming were probably quite slim. But I was wrong. The children swimming in the pool were remarkably considerate of those who wanted to swim lengths, and naturally played around them while leaving space. I was very impressed with that, and did rather unkindly reflect that there are some adults who swim in lane sessions who could do with a dollop of the consideration that came so naturally to these children.

So I began to swim, alongside the two or three others who were doing liekwise. And I soon borrowed some goggles from the lifguards. There was even enough space for me to do the majority of my swim fly, only having to swithc to front crawl to narrow my profile a bit when somebody passed from the other direction. I had the best swim I’ve had for quite some time and although I still doubt I’ll manage the full 5k fly in September Bovey did at least encoruage me to believe that I might not actually die trying.

A boy of about 11 said to his mum, as I paused at the shallow end, ‘I’m going to do some fly!’ He looked at me and smiled as he pushed off. And of course I smiled back, how could I not in the face of such enthusiasm. His mum and I watched him swim off, and he did a pretty good job. ‘He’s a runner, really’ said his mum, with whom he had been swimming front crawl lengths quite happily. She explained that he isn’t a club swimmer, but has lessons at school and that is where he learned his fly. She didn’t think she’d be able to manage any. I asked if she wanted to try, and she was game. So we joined him at the deep end and spent a happy quarter of an hour or so flying back and forth across the width of the pool. The boy went great guns, and his mum took to it like a duck to water.

They resumed their lengths, and it was time for me to leave. I had a lovely chat with the volunteers on my way out; they had noticed my Portishead season ticket in the card holder on my bag and asked about that. They agreed to let me take some photographs and I left feeling as light as a feather; immeasurably glad that I had freed myself from my ‘carapace, the protective and aggressive shell of urban and suburban man’ as Marshall McLuhan so incisively described the car.

This part of Devon has an incredibly rich stock of outdoor pools, if you are travelling to the South West for your holidays you should definitely stop at one of them en route.

Pledge at https://unbound.com/books/lidoguide for a copy of the first ever user guide to publicly accessible outdoor pools across the UK. A practical, beautiful and inspiring book telling you all you need to know to plan your own lido road trips.