Cheery chill swim in Windermere

After the 60m Big Chill Swim in Lake Windermere on Saturday it’s all I can think about is the next swim, what it will be like, what the temperature will be, fresh or sea water, through and above water views, how long will it last? It’s clear to anyone I’m hooked, but the short swim at the weekend left me feeling a bit short changed and thirsty for much more mermaid time.

 

Yours truly in lucky lane seven, swimsuit adjusting by the looks of it

 

Windermere water is a heavy turquoise in the deep and crystal clear at the shore where you can see the beach of rocks slope gently off into the blue. The clouds were low and bulky, threatening to meet the surface of the lake. The weather cutting off the distant mountains brought the rippled Windermere in to focus. I was delighted to be swimming there.

My only trepidation was about one minute before the race when my lane neighbour said that she had been swimming there all winter, well apart from December when the Environment Agency advised against it. But apparently whatever had been washed in to the lake from the floods had ‘settled’ now so it was fine. Right. It was a bit late for cold feet and knowing how paranoid these authorities are about being sued by sick swimmers I figured it probably really was ok anyway.

 

The view towards the gala from a little way north up the lakeside

Someone asked me once how you stay warm in cold water and replied ‘you swim.’ Usually there’s no hanging about at first but I do allow myself some pottering time a few minutes in just to soak up the scenery. I hadn’t really given this much thought until the race context meant zero pottering time.

Some savvy swimmers stuck around at the lakes for longer and went in the water again at their own pace outside of the gala (there are couple more races on the Sunday including the 1k.) I’m not one to look this far ahead usually but I have a bit of a plan for next year: spend longer at the lakes, enter more than one swim, make one of those swims the 120 meters so I have a much-needed higher endurance target.

Getting into chilly water is enough of a buzz for most wild swimmers, when you add in the race factor it gets added adrenaline going. I had enough of that coursing through me to make it from 0 – 30 meters pretty fast, and the following 30… well, less fast.

If I haven’t waived my right to be fussy about things not being hot enough, I would say to the organisers that the Cumbrian air was enjoying a bit too much of the heat from the sauna and not enough was lingering inside the barrel-shaped walls. But overall, from 9am to 5pm races between 30m to 450m ran like clockwork and the atmosphere was so cheery and chilled that I don’t think I’ll wait until 2017 before going to another such event.

 

Gorgeous sauna for your after swim thawing, could be hotter though

 

Cooling off feet first – with the men

Sunrise through the trees at Hampstead Heath

The men’s pond was open to the ladies of the heath this week. Ladies who usually walk past the ‘men only’ sign at the bigger swimming pond at Hampstead Heath on their way to the ‘women only’ sign that marks their own, more discreet pond around the corner. 

Bigger, squarer, more manly perhaps. What does swimming in a manly pond feel like?   

Compared to our compact changing area and jetty there are extra metres of concrete between where you leave your sensible, normal, winter clothes and walk in a silly piece of Lycra until said concrete gives way to water. They cause your feet an unwelcome head start in the bodily cooling process. 

Once you’re dunked and on dry land again, a better versions of yourself, feeling fresh, tingling and awake all over, your feet have already given up and gone straight to pain. 

But I’m hardly going to make a fuss, this is a man’s bathing establishment after all. So I kept the ‘ows’ that came with every footstep to almost inaudible. 

 

View of the men’s pond #filtered

 
It’s definitely a more open version of open water swimming there. The swimming view includes more sky, more of the surrounding heath, more dogs and their dutiful humans. I actually found the space and the views a little disconcerting, as though the leafy, sheltered ladies pond had become cozy to me in comparison. 

But that’s ludicrous because one of my favourite things about swimming in the sea is that it’s so mind bogglingly vast and if you navigated it right you could, in theory, swim right around the world and back to where you started. And meet some whales, giant octopus and maybe some mythical sea creatures along the way. 

The smaller, unsalted body of water at hand may be broader than my usual dive but it’s still beautiful. I had heard the water is less clean by the time it filters from higher ground (near the ladies pond) down to the men’s but I couldn’t discern any difference in clarity. 

Ducks are chilling nearby, because they get how relaxing the place is, and for humans it’s a stunning place to step off the concrete edge of London and escape to a watery world, for as long as your toes can take it. 

  

Wrapping up and stripping off at the ladies pond

Shit just got wilder at the ladies swimming pond in Hampstead. On Sunday everyone wanted to get a last swim in before the pond was closed for three months for construction works, yet most swim suits stayed dry. That’s right, naked pondering no less! Whatever next? Surely wild swimming could get no wilder. 

That said, there was as much excitement about not having to take home and wash wet swimsuits as there was about the prospect of the nudity itself.   

  

Days prior to Sunday’s pond relocation party there had been furious sewing and knitting going on in the changing rooms and on the deck area. That’s how we roll at the pond, sometimes things just get crazy like that. It was all in aid of a ‘wrap up the pond’ project where the vague aim was to knit a scarf long enough to go around it before we have to relocate for three months while they put in swanky new changing areas and dredge the pond.

  

The afternoon rounded off with the unraveling of the 200ft scarf we had all contributed to with mismatched stretches of our knitting efforts. It was duly wrapped around the jetty and the pond building like bunting. Messages were left on the walls for the builders, reminding them, among other things, to feed the coots. Some messages were left for us to inspire a bit of parting positivity. 
  

  

Then we took the scarf down and carted it to our new temporary home at the mixed pond. Like when you move house or office and you put a couple of plants and nick nacks up to feel at home, we also took sprouting bulbs, the women only sign and the notices chalkboard with us to make the new space our own.&nbsp
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What’s important about our space? The pond and swimming in it mean a lot for us all and many people have found it life-changing. Our space embodies all that enjoyment, gratitude, hope and the friendships made there.

  

The swimming on Sunday afternoon was smoother than usual, what with the lack of fabric layers for the water to resist. I didn’t find it made a big difference to the temperature whether you have a suit on or not. One thing I noticed was just that it was fun to be doing backstroke looking towards your toes and see yourself in the buff as though you are just in some oversized, natural bath tub. 

It didn’t top the Saturday swim though when blue skies and bare trees made for stunning backstroke views. It might actually have been my best swim ever at Hampstead. Maybe because I had been missing it for a week, maybe because I felt more confident with the temperature (about 6) than I had done all winter, so I could focus more on just enjoying the experience. 

  

When you can only stay in the water for a short time but you have gone to a fair bit of effort and taken a good 45 minutes getting there, you would be crazy not to appreciate every moment of an aquatic experience that can be equal parts thrilling and tranquil.