'The Swimmer' returns

After the summer recess (featuring school trips to such delightful spots as Cambridge), at last The Swimmer returned in its classic, London form. Invented by geniuses Will and Jonathan of Tooting Bec Lido and inspired by the John Cheever short story, the basic concept of The Swimmer is an epic swim-run journey from Hampstead NW3 to Brockwell Park SE24. It's a monthly event and I took part through last winter, and basically it's totally totally brilliant!

For the latest installment I had aspiring Brockwell Icicle Marc for travelling companion (at 6am, naturally), making his Swimmer debut with the world's largest backpack and enough kit to supply a company of sherpas for the busy season. Frantic rearrangement of bags-within-bags on the underground only seemed to make the biggest bag bigger...

Totally packed on the tube

Everything to declare

Switching to Northern line who should we encounter on the platform but Brockwell Icicle Peter, sporting some highly questionable footwear which he insisted are the latest in barefoot technology:

Line the gap

Alighting in salubrious Himpstid, we made straight for McDonanlds McMeeting point by the station, there to convene with Will, Jonathan and 20 other participants (a bumper edition!) and to sign away our rights to sue the organisers in the event of injury, death or worse. Bags in the support car, this time kindly driven by Will, and we were off for swim #1 - viz Hampstead men's pond.

The more observant of you will have noticed that I am not a man - indeed, I am a woman! However, with just me and two others (the excellent Ellie and Hannah) representing Team Gal and the ponds pretty deserted at 7.30 of an October morning, we were allowed to access this otherwise exclusive boys club. There's even a small subcompartment within the open-air changing room for such eventualities (which you access, giggling, via the men's section). While it can't compare with the secluded idyll that is the ladies' pond, the men's is still an enchanted spot, and the water looked very tranquil and inviting under the rising sun. There's also a diving board at the end of the jetty where, proudly sporting our white The Swimmer hats, we duly unleashed our testosterone-filled inner egomaniacs.

Today's specials on the board

Here we have a brilliant video from Peter, pictured above, from whose steady hand and post-production skills I can but learn:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rHM5uYOy_fc&feature=youtu.be

The water was a refreshing 13ish degrees, providing a firm but by no means brutal wake-up call that gave way to a glorious little paddle about under some beautiful backlit cloud formations. *sigh of pleasure* What's more weather forecast of torrential rain turned out to be completely off the mark, thank god, and we were blessed with a sunny autumn morning for the whole affair. What luck!

Clothes back on, a few star jumps to get warm and then a short trot to swim #2 - the unique and steely experience that is Parliament Hill lido, where the shimmerings and reflections underwater can make you forget to beathe.

Just time for a fortifying banana in the lido carpark and brief documentation of 3/4 of the Brockwell contingent, including a rare sighting of the lesser-spotted Marcus (Peter was taking the photo):

 

Now for the first run proper - a 4-mile canter through a who's who of London's scenic spots - among them Primrose hill, for stunning views of London skyline and obligatory group photo (thanks to The Swimmer for this and a few other pics, which I have shamelessly swiped from your website):

...past London zoo (no giraffes in sight - presumably lie in on Saturdays?), through pretty Regent's Park resisting urge to add in a bonus swim through the boating lake, winding our way amongst the smart marylebone streets, before hitting Hyde Park like a herd of over-enthusiastic wilderbeast and our destination for swim #3 - the Serpentine!

Changing facilities = a bench for the boys and a tree for the girls, giving passing tourists better sight-seeing value than they could ever have hoped for (we aim to please). 

Then a quick line up along the jetty before splashing down into the considerably er, 'earthier' waters of the lake.

Snaking our way to the water's edge

 

Swimming heaven

Back behind tree to change. It's at this point in proceedings I generally discover all my kit is wet and start to feel just a tad cold and tired - nothing for it but a morale-boosting cigarette to fortify the sinews and steel me for the 6-mile leg to journey's end.

We set off at a reasonably sprightly pace which to my (mild and concealed) disappointment didn't really abate, but there's nothing like running in a pack to keep you zipping along. Along towards Hyde Park Corner, cutting right to Sloane Square (where I saw a footprint with individual toes! I was tracking Peter in his weirdo shoes!), over Chelsea Bridge -Battersea power station bathed in sunlight- a nip through Battersea Park, along little streets with cute terraced houses, up a hill (blast you hill!), Clapham Common and finally Brockwell Park and Lido - a blessed sight at the best of times and all the more so after 18km on foot.

Saving the best til last

Back on home turf and happy as a fish, I dashed out a joyful 6 lengths under the October sun and amongst the now familiar shoal of white hats. Here we have a rare piece of Brockwell footage (nice work Peter) with some bonus Serpentine material at the start (where you can see me filming my video above, ha!).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27PZ6kPEJ8M&feature=youtu.be

Out of the water, we all shook hands and congratulated one another on our mission accomplished, before reclaiming civilian clothes and making a beeline for brunch at the famed Lido Cafe. Poached eggs never tasted so good nor disappeared off the plate so fast.

P. S. If all that sounds a bit too much like hard work, you might want to check out  'The Swimmer Lite' (as documented on Brockwell Icicle David's excellent and hilarious new blog 'Entirely Surrounded by Crumbs'), which took place simultaneously and, in his words, "let the train take the strain". 

17 go wild (swimming) in Dorset

Oh my goodness! Last weekend saw an epic mass exodus of SEVENTEEN Brockwell Icicles down to Litton Cheney in Dorset to take over an entire youth hostel for two days of wild swimming, all masterminded by the non-evil genius that is Fran (the brains behind a recent trip to Pells Pool). Brockwell lido didn't know where the hell everyone had gone, and Dorset didn't know what was about to hit it.

It began the way of all good adventures - viz. getting up at 5.45am on a Saturday. Fortunately our Driver for the morning - the ever accommodating Noelene - came to collect me from my very door, and with Peter and Talya as fellow passengers, the 4-hour journey positively flew by. We even found time to browse the winter collection of the legendary Fleet service station:

Peter makes a rash purchase

We convened joyously with the others at a campsite by Durdle Door, stopping to admire the unique signage...

What more could you want?

 ... and dove-tailing beautifully with Sara, hot off the press from a recent jaunt to Madeira. Giddy with excitement we began the descent to sea swim #1.

If you're not familiar with what a durdled door looks like, this is what I'm talking about:

© Random Dog

Changing on the beach was a relatively civilised affair (relative to all subsequent such occasions) thanks to a handy outcropping of rock:

Metamorphic facilities

Togs, hat, goggs, and before you could say "Durdle Door" all 17 of us were bobbing along in a deliciously clear and blessedly warm (say 17 degrees) sea like so many freshly podded peas, making a beeline for the open Door. Buoyed by the salt and peer support, we took on the surge and crash of waves coming at us through the 'tunnel' to pass under the looming craggy arch - one of the most exhilarating and surreal paths I've ever swum. I hope this video gives at least a bit of a flavour:

For swim #2 we simply shoed the feet and scampered up and over a hill to a Seychelles-style bay on the other side, where the water had an amazing white glow (and unfortunate sulphurous whiff at close quarters) from the surrounding rock.

All for one...

And one for all!

More lovely swims (interspersed with occasional panic on my part amongst the terrifying weeds), followed by some less dignified changing-under-towel motions, piles of cake and lashings of Rachel's amazing licorice and mint tea (and then something stronger...)

Candy under full sail

The correct cake-cutting stance

Multitasking

Attention all sipping

"Have YOU got my whisky?"

Even Martin, who started in a wetsuit, soon learnt the error of his ways:

Before

After

Just time for an aerobics class led by top coach Alfonso, photographed by the above Martin (thanks Martin!), to get the blood flowing and the girls giggling:

A new low for all

A range of abilities

Brockwell Inmates on day release

For swim #3 in the afternoon we picked another beauty - Worbarrow Bay. But what's this stinging sensation spreading down my right arm...now my left? Jellyfish jeopardy! Only little 'uns though, just enough for a thrill.

(And for those jellyfish sceptics - Talya I'm looking at you - might I refer you to a recent article by that august organ, Wessex FM News, reporting "A number of jelly fish have been spotted off the Dorset coast following the recent heat wave," hem hem. Also worth noting that Wildlife Trust Officer Julie states "we do get quite excited when the jelly fish come around because you never know what could be following them." Well Julie, I hope we did not disappoint.)

 A few top pics of Worbarrow Bay from Martin again (I got distracted by swimming):

Instinctively forming an orderly queue..?!

Sea mist and jellyfish - what's not to like?

Alfonso's award-winning dive technique is sabotaged!

Entirely surrounded by swimmers!

Here Fran deploys her magnificent jacket-wot-is-also-a-towel-wot-is-also-a-changing-cubicle to great effect and the unbridled envy of all; Santa, if you're reading, this is what I would like for Christmas please:

Dignity at all times

I think now might be an appropriate juncture to get out of the water for a rest and have a little comic relief courtesy of the Youth Hostel Association. Ours was a cosy place to call home for the weekend (modelled beautifully below by Rosie), complete with massive open-plan living area, fully equipped kitchen and six dorms with the all important bunk beds...

A stylish pose

There's really nothing like trying to make up your bunk bed with drastically tight-fitting sheets in a dorm with three other girls to awake some ingrained, primeval capacity for sustained and uncontrolled giggling (David, watch video at your peril):

Down with skool

Just time for a few pre-dinner drinks courtesy of a seemingly coronated Sara, before a hop and a skip to the pub next door for dinner.

Have some madeira m'dear

A night cap or two au hostel, followed by enough giggling in the dorm to collapse both bunk beds, Sara zooming up and down the ladder with commendable alacrity, scattering pine cones and hairbrushes under the duvets of others... at last, lights out, sleeps.

Up at 7.30 Sunday morning for sea swim #4 - the wonderful West Bay. Here, Sara, Candy, Noelene, Marianne and Miranda kick off proceedings with a Chariots Of Fire-style dash to splash, followed by an unscheduled mouthful of salt water for Peretz:

West Baywatch babes

 Happy and refreshed we returned to the hostel for a hearty breakfast...

...featuring the much anticipated, lovingly constructed Peretz omelette:

Well done if you've made it this far! All that remains is our fifth and final splash for the weekend - this time a river swim for a bit of a sea change. Here things took on a notably chillier edge, causing quite a ripple amongst us so-called 'hardy' 'winter swimmers'. But the water was lovely and light and clean, and the surrounding grassy banks and nearby wooden footbridge made for a hushed and intimate setting (especially if you ignored the prowling swans asserting themselves in your peripheral vision).

 

Hang on where did Candy go?

Brockwell Icicles Forever!!

Just durdle do it

Flushing Cove, Cornwall

Last weekend found me in the picture-postcard setting of Flushing Cove in Helford, Cornwall for the wedding of my oldest friend, Yukie, and her now-husband, Ben. Not only was I to be making my bridesmaiding debut, but the house where we were all staying was literally a stone's throw from an idyllic cove/creek/sea combo.

I hope the video from Sunday morning gives you a taste of this rare treat (although without my usual Brockwell lido partners in crime the cinematic feel has turned out a little pensive, and my boyfriend just pointed out that it could be taken as someone going down to the sea to drown themselves (!) Rest assured this is NOT the case and I am happily sitting on my sofa typing away in rude health).

Special thanks to Fireworks Night for musical accompaniment.

The water was a refreshing 16-17 degrees, I'd wager, wonderfully clear and crisp, and lightly salted, providing buoyancy without tasting too terrible. Perfect conditions for my Best Swimming, with the occasional curlew or ungainly gannet for audience.

On the morning of the wedding, I spied activity aboard the groom's cute little family boat, Rocket, on the far side of the creek, which was being decked out in flags for the big event. I set off with a lusty stroke and was soon calling "Ahoy there" and introducing myself as a bridesmaid to Ben's uncle and cousin, who looked so surprised I may as well have been a talking otter. I since discovered (in the groom's speech) that they had hitherto been considering mooring up to this handy yellow buoy, only to discover it was the swim cap of a passing gurl. Poor chaps, I'll phone ahead next time.

Pells Pool

Apologies (especially to Christiaan) for the radio silence of late - I've been so busy swimming it's left little time for writing about swimming. But by way of compensation I have two juicy posts in store! Beginning with the singular delight of Pells Pool in Sussex - the country's oldest freshwater public pool at the grand age of 152, and destination of choice for Brockwell Icicle Fran to celebrate her birthday back in August.

Following our usual swim at Brockwell lido to show due deference and loyalty, 'Polar Bear' Peretz and I beetled off to Victoria, where we hopped on a train that set us on the mat in Lewes an hour later.

         

A very British scene en route

A quick 15 minute walk through the pleasant town of Lewes, and here we were at Pells Pool receiving a warm welcome from pool manager Phil and convening with Fran and family.

And what a wonderful space! The pool is 46 x 23 metres, so a bit shorter and considerably slimmer than Brockwell. The water (which comes from a local spring and is treated and mildly chlorinated before admittance) certainly feels special - light and bursting with restorative properties. The edges of the pool are curved and tilt slightly upwards, and in the deep end you can balance on the sloping wall if you put your mind to it.

The vibe was pretty family orientated, with most children availing themselves of the blue lilos provided by the lido, and just the one lane. But plenty of room for all in the Zone of Bewilderment if you don't mind dodging the odd inflatable.

We set up camp on one of the picnic tables scattered on the grassy area by the pool, and set ourselves to the business of swimming. I even picked up some top tips from Fran's husband, Alfonso, who swims so effortlessly as to confer the impression that you and all your surrounding are actually moving backwards.

Picnic lunch, aquatic chats, then time for another swim (a triple-dip day!).

Fran's patented front-crawl technique

And what's that we spy? Could it be... commemorative Pells Pool t-shirts!!

Splashion show

If this post has inspired you to head on down... well I'm afraid you'll have to wait until next spring, as it's closed for the winter. Ha! But do go - it's well worth the trip.

White water, whisky and waterfalls

My humble blog is thrilled to hereby host a guest post from Brockwell Icicle Peter, who recently went on a wild-swimming jaunt to the isle of Skye! Over to you, Peter.

There are plenty of good reasons why otherwise sane and respectable citizens slip into the cold water swimming habit: the endorphin buzz, the camaraderie and of course – if you’re at Brockwell Lido – the coffee. But one of the biggest benefits is that once you’ve taken the plunge and acclimatised to swimming in a freezing lido (3 degrees C. during January since you ask) you can get on first name terms with hundreds of wild swimming locations up and down the UK. 

The Isle of Skye is the perfect example. Only 60 miles long but with 500 miles of coastline, dozens of seawater and freshwater lochs, and plentiful rock pools and waterfalls, the island is one big wild swimming opportunity. Tempted? Here’s a quick guide to some of the best spots that we were lucky to visit in June. 

Loch Coruisk: Dramatic mountain backdrop? Check. Easily accessible? Yep. Pure isolation, absolute silence and freshwater straight from the peaks of the Cuillins? All present and correct. There can’t be many more staggeringly beautiful wild swimming settings in the UK. Swim to the centre of the narrow lock and spin round slowly to take in the view. Here’s a picture that captures the atmosphere, along with the all-important swimmer.org cap that accompanied me on most of the expeditions. 

By the way, ‘easily accessible’ involves taking one of the frequent boat crossings from Elgol that drop you off for an hour or two at the loch. Alternatively you can reach Loch Coruisk by walking from Sligachan across the Cuillins (about four hours in fair weather). Or you can walk from Elgol (four hours again) although this involves negotiating the infamous ‘bad step’, a slippery wall of granite that can only be negotiated by shuffling along a very narrow ledge. Not for the nervous.

Faery Pools: The crystal clear pools and waterfalls that descend into Glen Brittle from the Cuillins are an absolute must for any wild swimmer, let alone a visitor to Skye. It was so stunning and memorable that we went twice - and would have gone a third or fourth time if I hadn’t sensibly been talked out of it. Here’s a quick video that hopefully gives you a flavour of the experience. You’ll see me make a tentative dive into one of the pools (it’s deep but not that deep), crawl through a narrow, watery canyon and then emerge, climbing gingerly behind a waterfall. This was just one connected line of pools. But there are dozens that stretch for about a mile or so up the valley and you could spend a long day dipping in and out of every accessible spot.

(By the way, anyone who fancies combining a dram or two with their diving - that probably accounts for most of the Brockwell Icicles - should also stop off at the Talisker brewery at Corbost, about two miles up the road from Glen Brittle.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIkUxcoeT20

Loch Pooltiel: This one makes the cut just because it was the nearest tidal loch to our self-catering cottage. I’m not suggesting you go out of your way to find it in the north-west corner of the island, but it serves as a reminder that wherever you stay you’ll find somewhere stunning to get your toes – any indeed everything else – wet. One tip here – check the tides before you make a trip to a salt water loch. Get there at the wrong time and you’ll be faced with a long stretch of rocky, water-free bay waiting for the tide to turn. 

Coral Beaches: The Caribbean on Skye. Drive through Dunvegan and up to Claigan. At the end of the road there is a car park, and you walk for about a mile or so to get to the main beach. Don't be deceived by the first sandy bay you come to, the real deal is just over the low hill. No pictures here, just some over-wobbly video that didn’t make the cut. So you’ll just need to trust me when I tell you that even on a slightly overcast day the sand is pure gold and the water is cobalt blue.

That’s all we had time to swim on Skye although we did make it to the Outer Hebrides as well (another story, another blog). But there’s probably enough here to give you a flavour of the best swimming spots on this wild, wonderful island. Daniel Smart has more tips for Skye in the latest edition of Wild Swimming, but the beauty of the island is that you’ll always find your own private wild swimming hideaway far from the most popular locations.

It’s also pretty easy (and affordable) to get to there. A one week trip for four, with flights to Inverness, hire car and one week’s self-catering accommodation shouldn’t come to more than about £300 each (although Talisker costs extra). Finally, thanks to Dawn who – as well as surviving my swimming obsession - proved to be an adventurous swimmer herself as well as a dextrous director of photography, putting her waterproof smartphone to excellent use for the pictures and video in this post.