Six years ago, I was living in the Midlands, about as far away from the sea as you can get. But during a week of walking from Poole to Lyme Regis, I fell in love with that vast blue space and its ability to restore my mind and body. I went home, handed in my notice, put my house on the market and within a few months I was living in Exmouth, Devon – a stone’s throw from the most beautiful beach, almost two miles of unbroken golden sand.
I still remember my first outdoor swimming experience, in Exmouth’s sheltered Pirate Cove – how I felt as the cold began to creep up from my toes. Endorphins coursed through me. I was buzzing, grinning, full of joy, and from that moment I was hooked. I began to swim daily.
But in 2023, everything changed. I went from getting my daily dose of peace and restoration, to long periods – sometimes days on end – of not swimming at all.
The reason? Sewage. In the beginning, I knew nothing about this problem – and to be honest, ignorance was bliss. But a few years ago, I began to hear about water companies dumping waste into our waters on a daily basis. Soon, carefree daily swimming turned to obsessively checking my phone for reports of the day’s dumps, afraid of all the problems you can pick up from swimming in sewage-infested waters – from ear and eye infections to gastrointestinal illnesses.
That first summer without the sea was a huge loss for me. I went from having a reliable swimming schedule and a wonderful group of people to swim with, to feeling like I was being held hostage by my local water company. While swimming outside has obviously been good for my physical health, it’s been a gamechanger for my mental health. I’ve been on antidepressants for decades; I have tried more than once to manage without them, but my mental health plummets and it never lasts long. My daily dips helped with that: since starting sea swimming, I was able to reduce my antidepressants to the minimum dose – a very real and invaluable benefit.
As I’ve learned more about the sewage – how often it’s released, all around the country – I’ve become more and more disgusted and angry. The water companies say the frequent sewage spills are “legal” and “necessary” to prevent sewage flooding streets and homes. Don’t be fooled. This shouldn’t be necessary and it shouldn’t be legal. It is about money: not putting enough of it into infrastructure and maintenance, putting too much into shareholders’ dividends and executives’ bonuses. In 2023, South West Water were responsible for over 530,000 hours of sewage overspill into our rivers and seas, an increase of 83% on the previous year. So far this year, it is looking worse than ever.
When I can’t swim, I feel myself beginning to sink. It’s an issue that affects all of our rights. Who wants a future in which trips to the seaside are marred by fears of catching diseases, and being able to frolic in blue waters becomes a thing of the past?
Earlier this year, I took action: I decided to sue South West Water, for its insistence on repeatedly dumping in my local stretch of water. I did it for myself and for others. Why should these companies be allowed to pollute our waters with impunity, turning them from the beautiful, natural, life-giving blue spaces they are, to a dumping ground for sewage? Who gave them permission to do this? Why are they getting away with it?
My case has obviously struck a chord with many people. I’ve received huge support from thousands of people all around the country and even overseas who feel just like me. I don’t yet have a date for the case to be heard, but I’m optimistic about the outcome. It’s nerve-racking at times, but I’m determined to see it through, however long it takes.
I long to be able to swim daily again. I find it a purely mindful, utterly meditative experience. Sometimes, especially in winter, I stand shivering on the sand in my swimming costume, in the wind and the rain, looking at the grey sea and sky, thinking “Why on earth am I doing this?” Yet I have never once regretted it. For now, my days are a mishmash of being grateful for being able to get in when I can, and angry that not being able to might become the status quo for ever. But in the future, I hope my fight means all of us can have summers full of sea.
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Jo Bateman is a retired physiotherapist. She lives in Exmouth, Devon, and swims in the sea all year round
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