M
y first wild swimming experience
is seared into my memory. Already
a keen swimmer, the idea was sold
to me by an eccentric friend, who
painted a picture of us slicing
through sweet river water like landlocked mermaids.
So, I rose early one Sunday, left my husband with our
young daughter and drove off, in clouds of early
parental guilt mingled with the excitement of having
a few hours to myself and the chance of adventure.
Our destination was an overgrown field on the
banks of the river Frome. I tiptoed into the freezing
shallows and gasped with shock at the cascade of icy
water that came flooding into my wetsuit. Putting my
face in felt like being slapped. Suddenly, this escapade
seemed like a very stupid idea. Still, we were both
strong swimmers, so we waited a few minutes and,
when the cold seemed marginally more bearable, set off.
The chill took away much of my coordination, the
water was a murky green and my arms were invisible
in front of me. But as my skin cooled further, the pain in
my hands and feet went away and I relaxed a little.The sun came out and a cloud of black damselflies
marked us at the side of the bank, their iridescent
wings catching the light. After half an hour I was cold
to the bone and my hands were white. But I got it. Yes,
it hurt to get in, yes it was unsettling not being able
to see the bottom, yes it was a little risky. But it all
pulled at a part of me that had been dormant since
my daughter was born, that wanted adventure and
freedom. I needed something more and this could be it.
We went back to the river a few times after that,
my friend and I. But the waters of early parenthood
swirled over and I spent another three years consumed
by the minutiae of motherhood and the stresses of
work. Then, one weekend, everything changed.
It started with stomach ache, turned into all-
consuming agony and ended on the operating table
after a very late diagnosis of appendicitis – painfully
extracted from sexist doctors who thought I was
making a fuss about indigestion. It took me a month
to fully recover physically and much longer to get over
the very real emotional trauma. But coming face to face
with death finally woke me up from my fog.Wild swimming might feel a little intimidating at
first but taking to the water is one of the best ways
to ease mental woes, writes Rosee Woodland
Cold
comfort
wild swimming
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