A beautiful film made by photographer Mark Tipple. Click here to watch the video.
wild swimming
Swimming in the Dart
Once when I was visiting Devon staying near to the river Dart I was desperate to swim in the river but I was a bit nervous to swim alone. I was not frightened of the current or the cold, but I was worried about looking foolish by not swimming in the right place or not knowing where to get in. I decided to be brave and so I put my swimming costume on under my dress and set off towards the river. I was staying at the top of a hill and the river was in the valley below. I could see the river from the road as I walked down but it was at the bottom of a steep field and I had seen cows in the field earlier. I am a bit afraid of cows so I did not want to cross the field. I walked to the bottom of the hill and I saw there was a path looping back towards the river. I followed the path a little way until I came across a group of women and children who splashing about in the shallow water.
I asked them if they would mind if I swam here as I did not want to swim alone. They said that they didn’t mind. I took off my dress and left it on the bank with my bag and my towel.
The water was completely clear and the river bed was all stones, no squishy mud or reeds. The water was fresh but not cold. I swam upstream. The current was not too strong and the swimming was easy. I swam for about ten minutes then turned to swim back downstream. As I was swimming back I heard a the sound of a steam train coming along the track that ran parallel to the river but high up above it.
It was close enough that I could clearly see the driver the and as the train passed he looked down at me and waved then tooted the whistle sending two puffs of steam into the air. I waved back as the carriages rattled past and several of the passengers also waved down at me. it was a beautiful sunny day and perhaps they were thinking that they too would like to be swimming in the river.
When I reached the women and children and my dress and towel I climbed out and sat in the sun to dry.
As I sat there two older, white haired women came walking along.
Was that you we saw swimming just now? They asked me.
I said it was.
You looked so elegant and so happy. They said.
I thanked them for saying I was elegant and told them that I had felt very happy at that moment, that I had been a bit nervous about swimming alone but that I had wanted to swim so much that I made myself be brave. They told me that they had often swum in the river as children and that people used to swim further up where there were deeper pools and no cows churning up the water but that people did not swim there so much now.
When I got back to where I was staying friends were amazed that I had gone swimming by myself in the river but it occurred to me I had not been alone at all.
‘When you swim it doesn’t matter what size or shape you are’
“When you swim it doesn’t matter what shape or size you are but somehow in the water you feel beautiful and melting and just the beautiful feeling of weightlessness and ease and you really become at one with nature.”
Ruth Corney talking on BBC Radio about swimming at Hampstead Ladies Pond – June 2013
Faroe Island Swimmer
The woman in this film has lived on the Faroe Islands all her life and since suffering from what sounds a bit like post natal depression, has been swimming in the sea regularly for 48 years.
Crocs
Australian freshwater crocodile
Katherine Gorge
Once upon a time I was in Katherine Gorge in the Northern Territories in Australia. The town of Katherine is set amongst a landscape of ancient limestone formations: there are pockets of monsoon rainforests, eucalypt forest, and rocky escarpments. Katherine Gorge itself is a series of thirteen gorges along the Katherine River.
The region abounds with exotic wildlife including, in the river, fresh water crocodiles. The first inhabitants of the area were the Jawoyn people and the Wardaman people for whom it was an important meeting place. Europeans arrived in about 1870 and they called the town they established Katherine, after someone’s wife.
While we were there we took a boat trip down the river. The trip was interesting but it was so hot that I almost couldn’t enjoy it. Added to which I felt incredibly thirsty and although we had water with us it didn’t seem to help. During the boat trip the guide pointed out some spiky shapes in the water, which he told us were crocodiles.
When we got back to the shore I was still very thirsty and hot and I was desperate to go for a swim. It was an absolute longing, such as I have often experienced in my life when I am near water; I almost always want to dive in, even if it is cold. I sometimes feel this when I am just walking along by the Thames; here in Katherine, in the sweltering heat it was quite overwhelming.
The only thing really stopping me was the fact that we had seen the crocodiles and I didn’t, and still don’t, know how dangerous they were. I kind of had the idea that fresh water crocodiles don’t attack humans; it is the salt water crocs that are much more likely to eat you. My longing for a swim was so great that I convinced myself that this was an absolute fact and that I was in no danger at all from these much smaller chaps. Also, I told myself, they were quite far away, nowhere near this little bit of beach we were on now.
Eventually it was too much for me and I dived in. The water was cool and lovely. I had not a thought for the crocodiles whilst I was swimming. After some minutes I swam to the shore and climbed out, unharmed and safe.
I discovered later that I had been sweating so much in the heat that my body was lacking some kind of minerals or salt or something and that was why I couldn’t seen to quench my thirst. I never have found out how dangerous fresh water crocodiles are, and if they ever attack humans, but on that day my desire for a swim outweighed all other considerations.
Planet Earth is blue
Photo by Mark Tipple used here with kind permission.
Anyone who has been surfing or just been swimming in big breaking waves, will know the feeling of sometimes misjudging it and being tumbled over and over in the water, not knowing which way is up or down. We tend to close our eyes at these moments, but Mark Tipple kept his open and started taking photographs of surfers under the waves. Here is a link to his website where you can see more of his beautiful photographs.
Sea horses
One of the most remarkable experiences of my life took place on Cape Tribulation in the far north of Australia. It was summer time and very, very, hot and very, very, humid. My sister and I were staying at a hostel in the tropical rain forest, next to a mangrove swamp and the sea. There was a generator for power which was switched off at ten o’clock at night. After that unless you had candles or a torch, which we didn’t, the night was completely black and dark but far from silent, as the rain forest outside (and inside) the huts, was teaming with life.
We were staying for a few days and my sister had noticed that there was a riding stable next to the beach. That sister, like all my sisters, is a a very keen and very good horse rider, so we decided to see if we could go riding. She arranged for us to arrive early to help get the horses ready with bridles and saddles. Although I do know how to ride I hardly knew what to do to prepare the horses; my sister was expert. She has a special affinity with and love for horses and is truly happy around them. There were about five or six of us going for a ride that day and the setting was beautiful. The tropical environment may be beautiful but it is harsh and we had been told that at that time of year you could not swim in the sea because of the blooms of deadly box jelly fish.
We set off along the shore line at a gentle walking pace, in the shade of the trees, but towards the end of the ride the horses broke into a gallop. I was a little bit fritghtened but I hung on tight, my sister flying along in front of me. It was thrilling and exhilerating. Galloping along that tropical beach would have been enough of an experience to last me my whole life, but when the ride was over the leader said to us.
Would you like to take the horses for a swim?
At first I was worried about the deadly jelly fish, but the leader said that as we were wearing our jeans our legs were covered so it would be alright.
She asked us to take the saddles off the horses as the salty sea water would be bad for them. We left the reins and bridles on.
So now we were riding bare back which I had hardly ever done before and I began to feel more at one with the horse.
Following our leader, we steered the horses towards the water. They were hot and sweating after the gallop and the water must have seemed inviting to them. They stepped delicately into the waves. This part of the coast was within the great barrier reef, so there was very little breaking surf and the water was calm.
The water quickly covered our feet and legs and was soon up to our waists. Then I realised my horse’s feet were no long on the ground and she was swimming straight out to sea. We were laughing and excited but then above the sounds of human voices I started to hear another sound. It was a strange, moaning, groaning sound. It was coming from the horses. They were stretching their heads up out of the water and the noises they were making were completely unlike any sound I had ever heard a horse make before. It was not any kind of snorting or, neighing or winnying, rather it was a kind of ectstatic bellowing. It seemed that the horses were relieved to be in the cool water. I still don’t really know if that is what it was. The leader of the group said that they always did that in the sea.
Many years later I asked a vet who mainly treated race horses if he had ever heard of such a thing, and he said that yes under those kind of circumstances horses do make that kind of noise, but he was a bit vague.
At the time I felt a kind of wonder, mixed with just a touch of fear. At one point the horses were heading out to sea and I wasn’t sure how I was going to get mine to turn round. But she did of course, following the others and soon I could feel the solid ground under her feet. As we emerged from the water, the horses stopped groaning. We rode them back up the beach, put the saddles on and took them back to the stables. In all we had probably been out for an hour or so, but it is an experience that will stay with me forever.
Pondlife by Al Alvarez
This book has now arrived and I am reading, and loving it. It is the story of his almost daily swims at the ponds on Hampstead Heath. It is also the story of his battle with the process of aging. It makes me want to do more outdoor swimming. I do swim in the lake in Sweden every day in the summer when we are there but I need to find somewhere here to swim outdoors, and not in a pool. As Alvarez says
‘Its good for the soul as well as the body and its cheaper than psychoanalyisis.’
Wild swimming
There has been a surge in popularity in what is referred to as ‘wild swimming’. You could say this is what we used to just call ‘swimming’. Wild swimming just means swimming outdoors but not in a swimming pool.
The Outdoor Swimming Society is a great source of information and contacts for anyone interested in wild swimming in the UK.
mindful swimming 