There’s a churning apprehension in the pit of my stomach. Invaded by uneasiness, the battle talk commences. “You’ve got this. If you do this, you can do anything.” I steal myself as I plunge into steely depths. A sharp and sudden hit. Time is suspended and the all-consuming buzz takes hold. Freezing burn and burning freeze. Mind cleansed of thoughts. Body tingling alive. A sense of invincibility. This is it.

Surfers Against Sewage is a cause close to my home and my heart, but lately I hadn’t been prioritising time in the water. Having completed several month-long challenges in the past, I was bought in to their power. Dip a day in October? “I’m in.”

When it comes, October brings an insipid grey that permeates my being and seeps into my bones. It’s 5pm on a Sunday and my thoughts turn to a hearty roast dinner. Digging deep to dispel the funk, a quick trot along the coast path eases me in. Mizzle hangs in the air, decorating spider webs and enveloping headlands. Within minutes, it feels good to be out and my sweaty efforts are enough that when I hit the water, I barely notice the ocean’s frigid temperature.

Endless grey continues to drain colour from the world, like a cosy blanket beckoning me to lie down next to my sleeping child. I probably (definitely) wouldn't have dipped if I hadn't started the challenge, and yet here I am. Back at the beach in just my costume, diving into a different dimension in which I feel a heightened sense of being alive and free. The body fog dissipates and in its place a reminder of the lasting elation to focus on during each dip’s dreaded anticipation.

My motivation is reemerging, and as if a reflection, blue skies return. A breezy walk across the mirror-like foreshore is washed away by the whitewater I am soon forced to jump over and dive under. The ocean’s seething energy floods my spirit with buoyant exhilaration, but the rip is running and I am wary of Poseidon’s pull. I splash within my depth until my toenails turn white and the buzz of my swim takes hold in my first residual toe tingles of the season.

I am finding a flow and with bigger swell rolling in, I seek out tidal pools carved out in hidden crevices. Certainly more a dip than a swim, but, as I look back at the cliffs bathed in late-afternoon light, I’m drawn in by the scene’s wild magnetism. From the pool’s calm, I watch backlit waves crashing up the rock face, their spray dissipating into plumes of misty smoke. The iconic call of choughs fill the air as they undulate over the beach to the mine ruins perched on the skyline and I too feel uplifted.

Brighter weather continues and suddenly a freak heatwave brings summer conditions to supposedly autumnal days. Shorts are refound and a beer in the sunshine follows my next swims in clear waters and clean lines of small swell. In these halcyon days, I find myself having days of double dips. Too easy!

That is until I catch a London-bound train before sunrise. With no chance of a coastal dip, I become acutely aware of my homeground privilege. I contemplate emptying a bin to plunge into, before commandeering my nephews’ paddling pool and adding surplus ice for good measure. 

There is an eccentric novelty to the experience that fills me with giddy, childlike glee. Dousing myself over the head with the garden hose, I barely feel the water as it bounces off my adrenaline-induced force field. But, I miss the immersive connection with the 'wild' waters of home; the sensory absorption and its distracting beauty. There is no comparison.

When I eventually find wild swim spots inland, remarkably all three feature kingfisher sightings that make my heart soar. These are some of the most memorable swims from the challenge. Woodpeckers yaffling from nearby trees and electric flashes of blue zipping over tranquil stretches of river. Autumn colours and iconic fly agaric toadstools beside the ‘steaming’ river on a morning so cold it gnaws at my fingers.

On returning home, the long journey is instantly washed away with a dip at our local beach. Whipping wind and rain lash against our windows tempting me to stay indoors, but I am rewarded with beautiful, still conditions down at the cove. I swim towards the horizon, a seal bobbing out in the bay, feeling immensely privileged. 

Soon though, with rain hammering my windscreen and 15 days of dipping still to complete, the remaining challenge yawns in front of me and my resolve falters. I realise it is only in sharing the whimsical thrill of confronting testing conditions that its liberating joy can be felt to the fullest. In a world where in-person connection easily falls away, there is reliable enrichment and grounding in the bond between kindred souls tied to the water.

As the storm’s swell arrives at our shores, huddles of swimmers gravitate to immerse in aforementioned tidal pools. Most beachgoers remain cocooned in comfort, but a 10-year old practises his dives beside me, revelling in his audience. Rock on, little legend!  

Even in our more protected bay, crumbling waves hold their tumultuous power to the last. Under the watchful eye of half-term lifeguards, I end up awkwardly squatting in the shallows, my respect for the water drowning out any ego. Instead, I find consolation in being only the second to brave the sea there that day. 

On the countdown to completion, my dips seem, on the surface, quite distinct. Rainbows illuminate leaden skies distracting me from lumpy water churned with detritus. I glimpse an aquamarine estuary between the rusty tendrils of bracken, before gliding through its golden-hour gloss. Elsewhere, I’m swept up in the raw energy of dip-diving pounding waves and soothed by the calm of slipping into a secluded pool pricked with raindrops. But, like the ocean’s endless ebb and flow, there is a reliable familiarity to each immersion. 

On reflection, a powerful series of seemingly contradictory feelings ripple through my wild dips. In floating, I feel grounded in this disarming environment that is tinged with peril. In the water, I am at once humbled and empowered. My perspective is shifted, my spirit lifted and my conviction clear in the infinite power of the sea, to pin me down yet set me free.