Swimming around the Cocker

The sky was low and grey, full of mizzle. The wood was creaking in a strong wind and Crummock was scored with regular lines of waves breaking in combers on the shore. It looked too choppy and drafty for immersion just there. I decided to walk back downstream and find a more sheltered swimming hole, where my clothes wouldn’t be tossed away and I could towel dry rather than blow dry. There weren’t too may people about and most of these were walking their dogs on the top path.

Labradors are generally a friendly breed, either passing at speed with a grin and tail wag or stopping for a cursory sniff before following other, more enticing scents. So, I was somewhat taken aback when the yellow one of a pair running through the wood veered from his track onto mine and stood bristling and barking in front of me, with definite dislike. His owner, emerging from behind a distant tree tried ineffectually to call him off. By the time he arrived the dog had made three more belligerent passes, and I was at a standstill. Its lead was put on eventually, with a lot of noise and jumping from both parties. It was strange, the owner gave all the words of command but as a kind of mantra with no follow through – as though repeating the words by themselves would gain the attention and obedience of the dog. This dog had given up bothering to listen long ago.  Then the other, black one, came hurtling towards us. This one was a Goofy, not a Grumpy and couldn’t have barked as it had a small tree in its mouth. It paid even less attention to the owner and swept by, missing us by inches. I was relieved and a little annoyed as they moved on, without apology.

The Cocker here is a very pretty stream and the best swimming hole is about 100 yards further, right of the picture. It has a little sandy beach and no sunken tree trunks so it’s easy to paddle into. The fun thing is that by the bank there is a back flow of water so you can swim upstream for quite a few strokes before you hit the downstream and that carries you back to the start again. Round and round in an oval circle with a few waterlogged oak leaves. I was just thinking I’d had enough, with a bit of toe numbness setting in, when, you guessed it, the two labradors and their hopeless owner hove into view returning along the river brink. In a right swivet I made a quick tot up of pro’s and cons of getting out and being barked at and cornered again in just a swimsuit, or staying in and putting  some extra effort to keep the blood flowing. I stayed in.
I can tell you waiting up to your neck in a stream of snowmelt water hoping that a man will put his dogs on a lead rather than letting the said dogs jump in after you, is not funny! He did, but it was not a quick process, especially after old yeller spotted me, and did a bit of ravening up and down the bank. I was all set to throw myself into the main current and escape downriver to the bridge.  

At last, they departed and I winced my way out. Hot chocolate in the car and a further hot chocolate at Lorton Shop helped my toes return from painful exile. Then I dropped into my workplace to collect more cardboard boxes for the move, and had a soothing cuddle with Oliver, one of our normal, friendly, well-behaved Cocker Spaniels.