Mustachio Monday!

What better way to kick off this week's winter swimming than with a selection of moustaches?

The usual suspects

Note scarf and banana interpretations

 Mug shots in the cafe:

Groucho Bear

Give us a Clouseau

Mercurial Moustache

Allo Allo?

Marc II - not to be confused with...

...Marc Huan

Baywatch eat your heart out

Er you've got a bit of a cappuccino moustache

First timers

Most of the miscreants who have so far featured on this blog, like me, swam their first winter last year when Brockwell Lido started opening all seasons, plus a few with a bit of experience from (gasp of awe) Tooting Bec Lido. This year we have a whole batch of intrepid newcomers who are shaping up very nicely (icely?) indeed. While not exactly an old hand at this game, I can't help but feel a little envious of their experience of the First Winter - the excitement, the unknown, every day a completely new achievement. And just that odd inner dialogue of "Well isn't this a hoot? But slightly wondering if I might die... Could I die? Such fun though, all this."

I think you could still fairly describe the water as "fresh" last week, but now at around 7.5 degrees it's just "really very cold". Of course it gets colder, but if you've made it this far I think you've got a good chance of seeing it through to the bitter end ha ha. Bucking the trend of global warming, the Brockwell Icicles are growing!

Particular mention for Icicle-in-training Maureen, who forgot to bring the shorty wetsuit she usually sports (in considerable style, I might add) earlier this week. By way of encouragement I pointed out that some eminent psychoanalyst (possibly even smarty pants Sigmund himself) said that we only forget what we really want to... She looked doubtful but nevertheless proceeded to take the plunge in nothing but her Freudian slip, and reported afterwards that it felt "like summer!" her face beaming. So we may even have a new convert to costume only...

Also swimhats off to new-this-season Millie, who arrived today having not been for almost 2 weeks and clearly had The Fear in the changing rooms. Triumphing in the internal mental battle, she disappeared outside like one going to face the firing squad, returning some minutes later dripping, pink and looking sort of astonished. It's hard getting back in the water even after a few days away so I imagine that was a pretty...er, intense experience.

Then of course we have the beautiful Maite, better half of our group founder, Guy, who is more accustomed to the balmy waters of the Canary Islands and makes the most wonderful whooping noises as she enters the water. She's also been quick to cotton on to a key part of any winter swimmer's kit:

Top tip: get yourself a good hat

From the boys' side, shout outs to Marc (pictured, pompom'd, above) who recently smashed his 2012 record of 9 degrees with a resounding 8 lengths at 8 degrees. Also notable newcomer Tim, who sort of seems part of the furniture already and not only comes with his own lido thermometer (the Timometer) but also makes ambitiously complicated cakes such as they set for the technical challenge on Bakeoff.

In conclusion: hip hip hooray for Brockwell Icicles - solidarity through solid water.

Single figures, double the fun

After hovering just over 10 degrees the past week, a couple of cold nights finally pushed the lido temperature down into single figures today. Exciting!

And god lord but you can't half notice the difference. Felt like possibly the first winter swim proper this year, needling waters, fingers and toes feeling like they'd been shut in a door. The good stuff! I'm getting into a nice routine of taking the first length almost as a sprint of front crawl, then perching on the little shelf in the deep end for 30 seconds to catch my breath and enjoy the sun on my face when available (the sun I mean - my face is consistently present).

Some crazy kids (David, Guy, Peter) continue to dry dive. Talya is still swimming 30 LENGTHS (I did a conservative 8). Sara turns up late in dark glasses. This is the status quo.

Life in the fast lane

Fran's stunt double hides in the changing room

Happy families I

Happy families II

Dead rat

This post is not for the squeamish. On Sunday we had a lovely swim at the lido, Brockwell waters blue and glittering in the autumn sun. All well and good. But while gathering for our usual post-swim cake and coffee by the pool, Miranda (who was swimming at this point) exited the waters and asked in a low husky voice "Does anyone have a plastic bag?" For - oh no shudder shudder shudder - there was a dead rat at the bottom of the lido!! Miranda, star of the show and general saviour, was keen to avoid mass panic and potential evacuation of swimmers, and so proposed to dive down herself and remove the offending cadaver.

It took a few attempts but eventually she emerged bearing rodent in rigour like a hand-dived scallop, passing it to the crack team of Scene Of Crime Officers Rachel, Candy and Fran.

Pearl-fisher meets rat-catcher

Miranda the lido hero

Winter timetable II

Now that winter's come
Lido closes Tues and Thurs
And today is Tues.

Now that winter's come
Lido closes Tues and Thurs
Tomorrow is Weds.

The Movember Swimmer

Ah, The Swimmer, The Swimmer. In no other situation is satisfaction so thoroughly guaranteed. Intricacies of this monthly outdoor swimming extravaganza are outlined here for the October installment, but basically you meet in north london and get to south london through the power of FEET and swim at four lidos/ponds/lakes en route.

The November installment on Saturday (a year since I first took part in this madness) saw record attendance of 23 lunatics, including FIVE whole women, not to mention some of the usual suspects:

Arch rivals Marcus and Peter try to out-fluoresce one another

 ...and some unusual upper-lip motifs for movember:

"I'm telling you my moustache is right here"

We were blessed with some early morning sun for swim #1 at Hampstead Men's pond, where John celebrated his 50th birthday with a dive into 9 degree waters: 

A quick splash about (and startled expressions from a couple of unacclimatized newcomers), then redonning of clothes and hop over to parliament hill lido - a hallowed place where steel and cold water make each other colder (in a good way):

Back into clothes, scarf down half a banana in the carpark, pile bags into support car (this time kindly driven by Jonathan and Beano the dog thank you very much indeed), run to Primrose Hill, get random lady to take the obligatory group photo...

...share second half of banana with a chap called Martin who sometimes swims at Brockwell, hoof it through Regent's park, Marylebone, Hyde Park. Hello Serpentine!

On arrival I discovered the token tree that usually constitutes my changing room is entirely surrounded by mud, so head up a little set of stone steps that lead nowhere and start changing there. Soon discover the bag already there belongs to a man who has now finished his swim and come back to dress - awkward. We dealt with the situation by having a very pleasant chat about swimming whilst studiously looking in the opposite direction.

Not sure quite why but the Serpentine felt absolutely FREEZING. I hear tell it was 8 degrees, so not exactly warm, but seemed more like 5 degrees to me. The serp club had some races on in the cordoned off part so we were instructed to go Beyond the Buoys - thrilling! Suddenly felt very exposed to the elements and all at sea. We opted for a conservative lap along the buoys and I strategically stuck close to Marcus (who knows those waters) like a pilot fish on a sea turtle, before slithering ashore with all the dignity we could muster amongst the mulch.

The usual battle between icy fingers, damp towel and barely preserved modesty, then onwards and downwards to south london and journey's end - viz my own dear Brockwell lido, though not before we were thoroughly soaked in a deluge from Clapham onwards. Having taken the last leg at a leisurely pace I was even able to put in a canter at the end like an old horse nearing its stable, before a delicious 6 lengths on home surf followed by equally but differently delicious poached oeufs at the lido cafe.

Always rehydrate after a long run

Meanwhile, two of the girls had been mislaid en route, causing organiser Will to prong the eggs and b. with a meditative fork, frowning (see above). Fortunately they eventually materialised (to a resounding cheer from our table), having run all the way to Tooting Bec before discovering that we finish 2 miles north:

And then there were 23 again

They seemed completely unfazed by the detour (whereas Martin, on the right of the above pic, is clearly traumatized by the very idea).

This has since sparked rumours of an "ultra" penta-splash version for the December Swimmer... watch this space...

Winter timetable

Now that winter's come
Lido closes Tues and Thurs
And today is Thurs.

Now that winter's come
Lido closes Tues and Thurs
Tomorrow is Fri.

Dry dives and light shows

We've had some truly wonderful autumnal swims at Brockwell lido the past few weeks, glorious morning sunshine illuminating suspended leaves, scattering golden patterns of light across the bottom, with water temps inching steadily, thrillingly down (12.5-13 degrees at the moment).

The latest craze, instigated by Peter and subsequently championed by David, is the dry dive - i.e. diving as a means of initial entry to the water (for definitions of other lido terminology, see David's blog post), which can be something of a shock to the system even for the most hardened Icicle (the dive I mean, not David's blog).

I'm quite a fan of the mid-swim wet dive with maximum run-up before launch - whoosh! - so I gave its dry cousin a go at 13.8 degrees and it was quite exhilarating, although more of a bonedry bellyflop in my case as my subconscious tried to put its foot down. 1 week (and 1 degree) later I had firmly hung up my dry-dive hat, leaving me free to capture this exclusive footage of fellow Icicles in action:

 In case you blinked and missed it, here are a couple of stills:

Dry...

...dive!

Following the thrill of the dive, the ripples dissipate, the heart regains sinus rhythm and what remains is a shoal of Brockwell Icicles gliding about in a calm, crisp, sun-drenched box of cold watery heaven. Just to prove I'm not exaggerating:

See?!

All followed, of course, by piles of cake and lashings of the best coffee in town.

An unsuspecting Liz takes her eye off Candy for one second...

...Candy I think she may have rumbled you

The Lido Cafe: sanctuary for bewildered Icicles

Polar Bear basks in the sun

The three bears and their porridge

...Goldilocks finds sustenance elsewhere