Instructions for cold water swimming

When I first arrived on this island, there was a couple housesitting at my landlady’s croft. They had arrived the same day as I had, so it turned out I wasn’t the only newbie in town. It also turns out I wasn’t the only crazy who wanted to try this increasingly popular pastime of cold water swimming, or wild swimming or open water swimming or whatever the difference is between whatever you want to call it (all I know is it’s cold and it’s wet and to call it ‘swimming’ is perhaps a stretch of the imagination.) Would I ever have taken my first dip if it hadn’t been for them? I like to think so yes. Would they have ever taken their first dip if it hadn’t been for me? Apparently not. But in the month that Kev and Liz were here for, we took several dips in several waters, breaking our cold water swimming cherries together.

Instructions for Cold Water Swimming.

Our ritual as we have come to create it over the past few weeks is:

Take an age sussing out the best entry point.

Strip off down to your swimming cozzie. No wetsuit required for the brave!

Slowly but steadfastly make your way toward the water’s edge, definitely NOT talking yourself out of it. Yes it was a good idea before you left the house, and yes it’s still a good idea now.

Walk in up to the waist.

Take several deep breaths and engage the brain in much psyching up.

After a count of “three” bend your knees and dip your whole body in. In and out, quick as a flash.

Repeat. Try not to swear. Or fuck it, just swear, you’re earning it, you can do what you like.

After the second dip, you’re good to go. Push forward and swim.

When I say ‘swim’ I mean just a few frantic strokes whilst questioning why you left your breath on the shore along with your clothes.

Then it’s back out to waist height again.

Take a moment. Look around. Take in the beauty, the sounds, the smells… I learnt a new word yesterday – apricity – the warmth of the sun on your face in winter…this really is stunning.

OK, enough apricitying (not a word I learnt yesterday), it’s time for the second swim.

Push off again, notice the difference in your gasp gauge between the first and second swim.

Marvel at your body, how adaptable it is, how capable it is.

Ignore the extreme throbbing pain in your hands and fingers and the fact that your out breath still eludes you.

OK, back out again, back to waist height.

That was the preparation (or prevarication as one of our party accused today), it’s all about the third swim.

And this time it is with ease as you push off and glide into the clear water.

Was it really only two minutes ago you were freezing your tits off? I mean, you could almost be in Costa Rica now…almost.

Expletives are replaced with, “Oh my god, WOW, Incredible!”

Enjoy. I mean, really enjoy. This is an amazing thing to do. Swimming in Scottish waters in mid-October.

Somewhere between feeling sufficiently smug and total hypothermia setting in – GET OUT!

Climb over the slippy, sea weedy rocks, notice how much warmer the air feels now, you’d think it were a different day.

Towel dry and get dressed, get warm and cosy, layers, lots of layers, you might feel fine now but give it ten minutes…as your sense of invincibility drops, so too will your body temperature.

Find a spot, out of the breeze, in the sun, another day, another swim in nature on this beautiful island.

Begin the ritual of passing around the hip flask. ‘A wee dram’ as they say.

Well deserved, my friends, well deserved.