Not Getting Any Warmer Then?

Last night saw me back in the chilly waters of the Cam once again.

Helen, Bojan and I had a rematch with the river, and sure enough, there was only one winner again.

The water felt strangely ‘OK’ as I splash-dived into the dark river, only the glow of the city in the distance to light the entry.  The ‘OK-ness’ soon gave way to the cold, then the burn, then the general numbness as the extremities lost contact with the core.

We made it up past the aptly-named Deadman’s corner, where the Superfast Helen caught us up and kept going for a bit, while we turned back for home.

God it was cold as we got out back at the Riverbank.  Sure enough, it was a little colder than the Sunday night, with the water at 7.6C (45.7F), but still feeling lovely, rewarding, exhilarating, the slow, black, sloe-black creeping, fenny water.

(Apologies Dylan – for bastardising your masterpiece)

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