Swim, explore, climb and . . . jump off a cliff
Coasteering trip along rocky Welsh coastline ends with thrilling leap into the ocean
PEMBROKESHIRE, WALES—“Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall,” I repeat in my head. Bone-chilling seawater swirls around me as I scramble over slippery boulders and scale craggy rock faces. Except now I’ve arrived at the section where the whole point is to fall. Well, jump is more accurate I suppose.
While I stand on a cliff above a turquoise ocean, my body trembles as much from fear as from the chill of the brisk spring day. Unless someone pushes me into that ocean, I think, my death by hypothermia ain’t looking so bad right about now.
“Just keep your arms close to your body and jump as straight as you can,” instructs Lucy Hurst, our fearless guide. “You got this.” “I gots fear,” I whisper to myself. Even in my well-beyond-teenage years, peer pressure is real. So as my fellow coasteerers goad me on, I think that if I end up slamming into the rock face on the way down, at least I didn’t go quietly into that great night. “She went out with a bang. Literally,” my tombstone would read. And for some bizarre reason, that comforts me.
So as my heart nearly pounds a hole through my wetsuit and life-jacket, I quiet the fear, give into the pressure and take the leap.
And I’m freeeeeee, free fallin’. That’s all my mind can hear as I’m, well, free falling into the ocean, with adrenalin in my veins. And within seconds, boom. I don’t go quietly into the ocean. I make quite the splash for my 5-foot-2-inch frame.
My arms flail up from under the water and I rise with about a pint of salt water up my nose to a cheering crowd. I want to accept the congratulations gracefully, but all I can muster up at that moment is some gurgling as I bounce in and out of the waves, trying to catch my breath. But I did it, and even though I struggle to compose myself post-jump, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was high-fiving myself in my mind. Exhilaration is a helluva drug, kids.
Wales, in all its lush, bucolic, picturesque glory, may not have been the spot you’d imagine a wee lass would seek out adventure. However, the Welsh countryside is very much about meshing adrenalin-pumping activities with its sweeping landscapes, especially along its magnificent coastline, and coasteering fits right into this agenda.
The Welsh government has billed 2016 the “Year of Adventure” to promote Wales as the world capital of adventure tourism. The campaign is designed to see Wales capitalize on a wave of new openings and developments, with 10 years of ongoing investment planned to make the country a leading adventure destination.
The county of Pembrokeshire in the south of Wales provides a pretty backdrop for navigating the lengthy coast from a perspective not privy to most, via sea caves, getting spun around in whirlpools and clambering up striated layers of the millionyear-old rock formations. And one cannot forget its pièce de résistance, as much as you may try to resist doing it when looking down: cliff jumping.
According to Sophie Hurst, who, along with her husband Nick, founded Preseli Venture, our coasteering outfitter, the sport originated in the late 19th century and historically is similar to sea-level traversing, which was all about accessing cut-off coves beyond headlands.
Hurst says coasteering emerged as a commercially guided recreational activity in the 1990s on the Pembrokeshire coastline. Preseli Venture, one of the first to start coasteering tours, has been offering them for 25 years.
We arrived at Preseli’s headquarters in Haverfordwest via a drive through rolling green valleys, hills and wooded estuaries. Once outfitted with winter wetsuits, wetsuit gloves and socks, along with a helmet and life jacket, we trucked on a little further to the coastline, studded with plundering cliffs and craggy rock formations.
The coastline is as stunning as it is intimidating. Once we shuffled into the water, our guides assured us we had nothing to fear and anyone can partake in what seems like a pretty extreme adventure.
We started clambering up the barnacle-studded rocks and swam around swaying kelp into caves, with the only real drawback seeming to be the coldness of the water.
At times it thrashes us about like we’re inside a washing machine. We almost revel in it, giggling as we splash and keep our wits about us so we don’t get slammed into the rock face.
The first cliff dive starts us off small to test our nerves and ability. By the second, most are raring to go, some going again and again. Within moments, we’ve become penguins fall- ing repeatedly into the water, one after the other, including me, to my own surprise. And out here I learn a lesson, perhaps to my mother’s dismay: apparently if everyone jumped off a cliff, I would, too. Charmaine Noronha was a guest of Visit Britain and its partners, which didn’t review or approve this story.