Naked at Dawn: The North-East Skinny Dip

stood naked on a beach at sunrise with 1,294 strangers and ran into the freezing North Sea – and it saved me from a bout of depression.

Days before, I felt worthless, and failing at life. But at the North East Skinny Dip, something shifted. For four or so hours, my usual social anxiety, body image issues and self-doubt vanished. I photographed fellow dippers, got covered in body paint, posed confidently for strangers – all while completely nude. The cold water and radical vulnerability created an unexpected dopamine high that reset my mental health.

Like many things to do with naturism, this isn't a story about exhibitionism. It's about how facing our deepest fears – being seen, being judged, being imperfect – can unlock the confidence we desperately need. As someone with ADHD and autism, I've discovered that extreme experiences like this might be how my brain learns to function without fear. It was an amazing morning.

Present

As a 47th birthday present to myself, I had decided to take part in the annual North East Skinny Dip, held in late September at Druridge Bay in Northumberland. For moral support, I had arranged to meet some friends who had attended the previous year, and the photos they took made the event look unmissable.

It was a very early start. Somehow, in the dark, I had found my friends, and they introduced me to their group. Meeting new people is hard with social anxiety. But when my brain tips more toward ADHD hyperactivity than autistic sensory overload, I can actually manage it.

At 5am, we eagerly arrived at the car park, beating the queue of people to ensure a smooth check-in process. By 5:30am, people were flooding onto the beach. Drums were sounding, fire dancers were performing, and the sky was black. Around 6:30am we started to get ready. I threw on my rainbow towel robe with a smock coat over it to stay warm. I checked on who in our group consented for photos, and watched the beach fill up.

Suddenly, at 7am, the signal was given, robes went flying, and a horde of naked people started running towards the sea. Naturally, as a photographer, one of my first thoughts was "camera settings!” I wanted blurry, almost watercolour-like photos, mixing skin and sea as we rushed in. This distraction meant that by the time I got in myself, I couldn’t see the group I was with, mainly because I was trying not to look at anyone. It was a natural reaction, as if we were in a changing room at the swimming pool, where we all know not to stare. Except I needed to find my fellow skinny-dippers.

Chaotic

If it hadn’t been for the 8-10 foot high waves crashing over my head, I think it would have been nice to stand there for a moment and take it all in. To see everyone in all their normal, imperfect ways. Then a wave knocked me over. It was too chaotic for my homemade waterproof camera bag to handle, so I opted for the back-up iPhone waterproof kit instead.

As I was heading back onto the beach to collect it, I saw the official event photographer, and ran over to pose for a photo. There was no hesitation, no anxiety, and no thought about how I looked after ten minutes in cold water. Days before, I’d worried about being photographed, yet there I was, not even thinking about it. The power of a functioning brain in action? No overthinking, worry, doubt or disbelief. For once in my life, I had let it all go. I smiled, posed with my thumbs up, grabbed my phone, and headed back into the water.

Hardy

Within another ten minutes, maybe two thirds of the people had got out. But my friends are hardy, and were determined to stay in. We jumped about in the waves till about 7:30am before clambering out. The water temperature was 13°C. Fresh, but I had never felt put off by the cold, and was riding a proper dopamine high. At no point did I think: “Boobs! Willies! Good grief!” We were dancing in the waves like everything in the world was actually, briefly, fine. Which, for that moment, absurdly, it was.

As I got out, I noticed an artist doing body painting, and again, without any thought, I ran over and joined the queue. This is where it did feel a little surreal. The queue for body paint was next to the very much longer one for breakfast. Everyone in that queue was dressed and getting warm. I was still completely naked. And for the first time that morning I felt naked. Undeterred, I let the artist cover me in colourful body paint and glitter before I ran off to find my group. By this point they were also fully dressed. As I was covered in wet paint however, I couldn’t put anything on to warm up. Plus I had never been ‘art’ before and figured that I should continue being it for a while longer. Cupcakes were shared and the group sang ‘happy birthday’ for me. Another completely surreal moment.

Odd

While eating cake, I saw a group of women who also had body paint on, and went over to get a group photo. The H (Hyperactivity) in my ADHD was on fire: a completely naked me going over to several naked female strangers and asking them if I could take their photo. One woman laughed and asked: “front or back?” I said backs were fine, as it still felt odd to say front. In that moment, my thinking was that I don’t know these women, and it seemed weird to be taking a photo of them naked. Should it have been? They were just amazing people, on an amazing beach, at an amazing event.

By 8am, I had basically been running around naked on the beach for an hour, and by now actually was starting to feel the cold. Yet with the sun coming out, people started stripping off again and running back into the water. “Sure, why not?” I thought, and I was again naked in the sea. No anxiety, just the actions of a confident person somehow able to be ‘in the moment’ and make spontaneous decisions. It was incredible. Imagine being this way every day? Not rash or foolhardy, just confident.

Finally, washing off what I could of the body paint, I decided I needed to get dressed to warm up. But I wasn’t ready to leave. I saw some people running into the water from the saunas that had been set up on the beach, and so I took a few more photos, using the sun to create silhouettes. As they got out, I chatted with one of the ladies, and she asked if I could send her a copy of the photo. Instinctively, I went to my Instagram profile so she could scan it, before realising that I was talking to a completely naked woman with no pockets for a phone. We both laughed hysterically. It was one of many highlights of the day.

Brave

In the days and weeks leading up to the event, I had been depressed. Money is tight, work is sparse, and my health is problematic. I felt worthless. Why celebrate another birthday? What brought me out of my depression was not a change in my life. It was me thinking: what if, for a time, there were no issues? By being brave, and facing many of my fears, I changed how I saw myself, and the world. I proved to myself that I can live. My mental health was reset back to a point whereby I could continue being me.

What is important is that I had challenged myself, and thrown myself not just into the sea but the whole event itself. I had posed naked for another photographer. Stood around naked in a queue for all to see without feeling shame for how I looked, even after the cold water ‘shrinkage’ kicked in. Out of the water, there was no protection from the sea for my nether regions, and yet I felt no social anxiety. No body issues about being overweight. No depression. For a brief few hours, I had lived without fear by doing something most would fear, the past me included.

Community

How did I do all that? By being welcomed into a new community, one that thrived by almost throwing society’s issues off just as they had their clothing, and taking joy in simply being alive on the beach with nothing in the world other than a shared moment. Whether for a few minutes or several hours, that is all we had. No high-fashion clothing, no expensive cars, no ego-driving social media followings, no worries about paying the bills, or whether our bums looked big in something. Seeing over 1,000 people disconnect from all that noise, accept you as you, and splash around in cold water was special.

Depression made me vulnerable to my worst thoughts, and sent me spiralling. It wanted me to be alone with nothing other than my own pressures and fears. Getting naked in front of all those people, posing for a photographer, eating birthday cake with new friends while wearing only body paint…it was an entirely different way of being vulnerable. A social one that rewarded me with a feeling of being valued. Not because it was my birthday or because I was a photographer, but simply because I was accepted.

Pete Carr

© H&E Naturist 2025

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