“Just try to breathe deeply – bury your feet under the mud and put your hands under your armpits.” These are the words of wisdom from Richard Brown, head ranger at the Wilderness Reserve and our swimming guide for the morning, as we prepare to enter the glass-calm water of the on-site lake. It is one of those perfect autumn days that you dream about when faced with the more-oft rain-drenched, permanently overcast version: the sky an expanse of purest sapphire, the sun so bright I wish I’d brought shades. And beneath it, in this unspoilt spot of the Suffolk countryside, miles of gently undulating green peppered with centuries-old trees.
It’s pin-drop quiet, too, save for our nervous chatter and giggling as we make our way to the lakeside, gussied up in swimwear and soft, blush-pink robes. We’re slightly wrong-footed – literally – on the approach, when what appeared to be grass turns out to be foot-submerging marshland. Good practice, perhaps, for what lies ahead.
