The Coldest Paddle

Five minutes later we were back at the flooded stretch of road. We'd seen a couple of cars with single occupants successfully steam through VERY low in the water, and we realised the passengers would have to get out of the car to get us back - removing the best part of 30 stone was the best way of ensuring the vehicle wasn't going to conk out completely.

While John drove slowly through the water this time, we all prepared ourselves in best British seaside fashion and walked barefoot with trousers rolled up through 50 feet of ice cold mountain water.



Dana still could not actually believe we would have to wade, until she saw Lindy go for it and lead the way, so whooping and laughing she followed.

Having searched in vain for a path along the gorse-covered bank, I bravely watched the women go ahead, before submitting my feet to the pain and misery. I hate having cold or wet feet, and this was both at once. With my GORETEX (tm) walking boots strung around my neck, I walked into the water which came almost up to my knees. After four seconds, I walked straight back out and decided to stay there. I gave it a couple more minutes for my feet to adjust to the freezing cold, decided they wouldn't, and went for it. Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch. I was the Little Mermaid.

Afterwards we had hot whiskeys in the pub as our feet glowed hot and warm again inside our boots.