“We’ll just go towards the main entrance,” said Jacqui, “Find a little place to stop.”

It was too late to turn back, or chicken out. We rolled out the rubber dinghy at intervals and sank into the gloom. When we came up, Jacqui had already started to reassure us. I guess, she wanted to build our confidence – maybe even her own. It was just difficult to know what to expect and impossible to turn back. Once you entered that gully, you had to keep swimming to the other side, before it spat you out. So, we began our crawl towards the headland and stopped when we hit the first channel. At that point, we took a minute and trod water as we checked in with each other. Waves rolled out from the rocky gullet and belched us further out with each new barrage. At first, we swam with our heads up, hemmed in between two stacks as breakers burst and funnelled in from the mouth ahead of us. Walls of white froth spilled in and over us. We bowed our heads and started to dig in with a frantic crawl, kicking our feet and spitting water between our lips. Jacqui held her position up front and Calum was behind her. I was a little further back, with James in my wake, trying to wield a GoPro. We checked on each other as best we could. At times, the chaos set in and it was like trying to swim backwards up a water chute. Sighting was best done underwater. In this way, you could spot boulders after waves came in and the rollers smoothed. Often, we used anything hard underfoot as a launching point. Foam eddied all around us. We bent our legs and frog-leaped forward, trying to gain more metres in the seething murk. Looking up, I saw the stacks that teetered over us. Speared rocks jutted inwards from both sides.

After that we reached a natural intersection. Waves piled in from every side and filled this rough basin, with a lone rock at the centre. It was the point of no return. The decision had to be made – would we press on and risk the crossing?

By that point we’d all stomached a few salty mouthfuls. Fatigue was a pressing reality. Deep body instincts urged us to turn back.

“Are you happy to go?” said Jacqui, finding a moment to talk between being dunked, “This is quite rough. Do you want to do this?”

We knew the dinghy had already driven round and was waiting on the other side of the headland. We had to swim through The Peastacks to reach it. That was the only way to get out on our own power and clamber back to safety up the ladder. If we turned back, we’d have to cling onto a boulder somewhere and wait to be rescued.

It really didn’t seem like a viable option.

“If you think it’s okay” – the best answer we could give.