Sea swims in England are all rocks, cliffs and shingle

In our Nature column, Sophie Elmhirst tips her toe along Dorset's Jurassic Coast to discover the reality of sea-swimming on home turf.

There is sea-swimming and sea-swimming. There’s the fantasy: clear Mediterranean water, bluegreen and warm, lapping at white sand. And then there’s the English Channel, that thin, cold arm of the Atlantic ocean.
 
I swam recently, while the heatwave was still thick in the air, at Burton Bradstock in Dorset where the shingle is rough under your feet and the water’s dark and choppy. The breeze was up and so the waves were curling and crashing on to the shore but it didn’t stop anyone, even children small enough to be enveloped from head to foot by the water, turned upside down and then spat out again with a look of thrilled surprise on their faces. The trick, I learned slowly, was to manage your entrance: plunging through the surges quick enough so one didn’t take you out.
 
I’d take the rough reality of Dorset sea-swimming over sandy beach life any day. You can’t be elegant or selfconscious swimming here; it requires a certain sturdiness, a willingness to pick shingle out of your swimming costume and an ability to negotiate a sudden shelf in the sea floor as you walk into the water. On the flip side, dolphins and seals have been spotted in recent weeks.
 
The water’s cold too, though the day we went, after weeks of that strange, hot sun, it was as warm as I’d ever felt it. On the beach, there were tentative attempts at sophistication: gazebos, cool bags, picnics and so on. But mostly it was the usual windbreakers and towels thrown down on the stones, flushed babies stowed under battered parasols, bare and burning flesh.
 
At one end of the beach was a large yellow sign warning of danger and death if you pitched too close to the cliffs. These aren’t just any cliffs. This part of the Dorset coastline is on the dramatically named Jurassic Coast: a natural World Heritage Site (England’s first) because of its geological history that spans three periods – Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous – with rocks up to 250 million years old.
 
You can find ancient fossils here and admire the stone at West Bay – the next beach down –which glows deep orange in the sun.
 
The cliffs are monumental walls of rock, layered and compacted, worn by centuries of weather so that useful steps have emerged for the birds. But they come with their hazards.
 
Last year, the wettest on record, the cliffs disintegrated. They’ve done this often over the years, and the risk of rock-fall is constant, but in 2012 the rain was so heavy that a great chunk of the cliff simply collapsed: 400 tonnes fell on the beach at Burton Bradstock, killing a young woman out walking with her family. It took nine hours for rescue workers to dig her body out of the rubble.
 
Those endless drenched days seem remote this year but the sign on the beach is a reminder: while the scene around you might look like something out of a children’s book – buckets and spades, ice creams, kids yelling as they career out of the surf on body boards, sweating old ladies on low chairs wedged in the sand, helplessly, hopelessly fanning themselves – behind you, these great natural beasts rise up out of the earth. For millions of years the cliffs have worked at their own invisible pace, liable to splinter and crash to the beach at any time. There’s nothing we – passing travellers – can do about it.
 
You don’t get cliffs like this on those fancy Euro beaches with their golden sand. There’s no resort here: those marshalled enclaves that attempt to enclose the unenclosable, the sea. This isn’t a beach, but a coast, which runs for miles along the bottom of England and spends much of its life ignored, being battered by wind and rain. I almost prefer it here in winter, when it’s monochrome and empty apart from a couple of miserable dog-walkers and you can’t imagine ever being able to swim in the black water. But on the rare days when you do, at a safe distance from the cliffs, you can’t believe your luck.
Jurassic Beach: West Bay in Bridport, Dorset. Photo: Jorge Luis Dieguez, South End Sea Project (2012).

Sophie Elmhirst is features editor of the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 29 July 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue

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Meet Anne Marie Waters - the Ukip politician too extreme for Nigel Farage

In January 2016, Waters launched Pegida UK with former EDL frontman Steven Yaxley-Lennon (aka Tommy Robinson). 

There are few people in British political life who can be attacked from the left by Nigel Farage. Yet that is where Anne Marie Waters has found herself. And by the end of September she could well be the new leader of Ukip, a party almost synonymous with its beer-swilling, chain-smoking former leader.

Waters’s political journey is a curious one. She started out on the political left, but like Oswald Mosley before her, has since veered dramatically to the right. That, however, is where the similarities end. Waters is Irish, agnostic, a lesbian and a self-proclaimed feminist.

But it is her politics – rather than who she is – that have caused a stir among Ukip’s old guard. Former leader Paul Nuttall has said that her views make him “uncomfortable” while Farage has claimed Ukip is “finished” if, under her leadership, it becomes an anti-Islam party.

In her rhetoric, Waters echoes groups such as the English Defence League (EDL) and Britain First. She has called Islam “evil” and her leadership manifesto claims that the religion has turned Britain into a “fearful and censorious society”. Waters wants the banning of the burqa, the closure of all sharia councils and a temporary freeze on all immigration.

She started life in Dublin before moving to Germany in her teens to work as an au pair. Waters also lived in the Netherlands before returning to Britain to study journalism at Nottingham Trent University, graduating in 2003. She subsequently gained a second degree in law. It was then, she says, that she first learnt about Islam, which she claims treats women “like absolute dirt”. Now 39, Waters is a full-time campaigner who lives in Essex with her two dogs and her partner who is an accountant.

Waters’s first spell of serious activism was with the campaign group One Law for All, a secularist organisation fronted by the Iranian feminist and human rights activist Maryam Namazie. Waters resigned in November 2013 after four years with the organisation. According to Namazie, Waters left due to political disagreements over whether the group should collaborate with members of far-right groups.

In April 2014, Waters founded Sharia Watch UK and, in January 2016, she launched Pegida UK with former EDL frontman Steven Yaxley-Lennon (aka Tommy Robinson). The group was established as a British chapter of the German-based organisation and was set up to counter what it called the “Islamisation of our countries”. By the summer of 2016, it had petered out.

Waters twice stood unsuccessfully to become a Labour parliamentary candidate. Today, she says she could not back Labour due to its “betrayal of women” and “betrayal of the country” over Islam. After joining Ukip in 2014, she first ran for political office in the Lambeth council election, where she finished in ninth place. At the 2015 general election, Waters stood as the party’s candidate in Lewisham East, finishing third with 9.1 per cent of the vote. She was chosen to stand again in the 2016 London Assembly elections but was deselected after her role in Pegida UK became public. Waters was also prevented from standing in Lewisham East at the 2017 general election after Ukip’s then-leader Nuttall publicly intervened.

The current favourite of the 11 candidates standing to succeed Nuttall is deputy leader Peter Whittle, with Waters in second. Some had hoped the party’s top brass would ban her from standing but last week its national executive approved her campaign.

Due to an expected low turnout, the leadership contest is unpredictable. Last November, Nuttall was elected with just 9,622 votes. More than 1,000 new members reportedly joined Ukip in a two-week period earlier this year, prompting fears of far-right entryism.

Mike Hookem MEP has resigned as Ukip’s deputy whip over Waters’ candidacy, saying he would not “turn a blind eye” to extremism. By contrast, chief whip, MEP Stuart Agnew, is a supporter and has likened her to Joan of Arc. Waters is also working closely on her campaign with Jack Buckby, a former BNP activist and one of the few candidates to run against Labour in the by-election for Jo Cox’s former seat of Batley and Spen. Robinson is another backer.

Peculiarly for someone running to be the leader of a party, Waters does not appear to relish public attention. “I’m not a limelight person,” she recently told the Times. “I don’t like being phoned all the time.”

The journalist Jamie Bartlett, who was invited to the initial launch of Pegida UK in Luton in 2015, said of Waters: “She failed to remember the date of the demo. Her head lolled, her words were slurred, and she appeared to almost fall asleep while Tommy [Robinson] was speaking. After 10 minutes it all ground to an uneasy halt.”

In an age when authenticity is everything, it would be a mistake to underestimate yet another unconventional politician. But perhaps British Muslims shouldn’t panic about Anne Marie Waters just yet.

James Bloodworth is editor of Left Foot Forward

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear