I have been jumping into very cold water, then hopping up and down and cursing, for as long as possible. I could not possibly swim in it, but the hopping is a good way to wake up and the cursing seems helpful too at the moment. Life is demanding I get to curse loudly once a day. I love your writing, and appreciate these posts.
I saw a fox in the snow a few days ago and followed its tracks. In the winter they're really a delight. And no one will blame you for cutting that swim short. I know you'd acclimate to that temperature given time. Did it feel painful? I just read a piece by Charlie Hamilton about filming otters in Shetland, icy water got under his diving mask and felt like getting punched.
I've spent the last ten or so years trying to learn to think in metric. The docs help because they're recording weights in kg. I can do pretty well with distances. But thinking in Celsius is a real challenge. Having the pond and puddles to give me a clue when it's below freezing (0C) and in the warm season I know that 30 is getting hot. But I still have to do some fudging calculations.
Since you are experiencing swimming outdoors in the U.K., if you haven’t already done so, I would recommend you read Roger Deakin’s classic book on wild swimming ‘Waterlog’. The Atlantic wrote an article describing it:
“ Waterlog is, at its most basic, what the title suggests—an assiduous “log” of each of Deakin’s encounters with water. But it’s also a beautiful ode to the act of swimming outdoors that morphs into a rousing reminder of the importance of caring for the commons. Through ecstatic and exacting descriptions of his many swims, Deakin introduces the reader both to the pleasures of outdoor swimming and to the richness of the natural landscape. He paddles about in sun-warmed tide pools and squelches in tidal mud. He bodysurfs around boulders in clear rushing rivers and snorkels with salmon migrating upstream. One section about descending, or “potholing,” into the evocatively named Hell Gill canyon made me stab at the page margins with anxious exclamation marks.” (https://www.theatlantic.com/culture/archive/2021/05/roger-deakin-waterlog-why-wild-swimming/618974/)
I have been jumping into very cold water, then hopping up and down and cursing, for as long as possible. I could not possibly swim in it, but the hopping is a good way to wake up and the cursing seems helpful too at the moment. Life is demanding I get to curse loudly once a day. I love your writing, and appreciate these posts.
I love your stories. So dear, so human. xo
the holiday lane ❤️
“I think I thought some particularly vile oaths in languages I don’t know.”
Hahahaha. I’d be speaking in tongues in Austin, let alone the UK. Happy New Year to you and yours 🥳
I didn't know that about the lido thing!
A lovely column. Thanks, Elizabeth!
I saw a fox in the snow a few days ago and followed its tracks. In the winter they're really a delight. And no one will blame you for cutting that swim short. I know you'd acclimate to that temperature given time. Did it feel painful? I just read a piece by Charlie Hamilton about filming otters in Shetland, icy water got under his diving mask and felt like getting punched.
Worth it to see the fox!
I'm sure it was no fun, but thank you for a good laugh on a gloomy day in Ohio.
You're the foxy one!
I've spent the last ten or so years trying to learn to think in metric. The docs help because they're recording weights in kg. I can do pretty well with distances. But thinking in Celsius is a real challenge. Having the pond and puddles to give me a clue when it's below freezing (0C) and in the warm season I know that 30 is getting hot. But I still have to do some fudging calculations.
Since you are experiencing swimming outdoors in the U.K., if you haven’t already done so, I would recommend you read Roger Deakin’s classic book on wild swimming ‘Waterlog’. The Atlantic wrote an article describing it:
“ Waterlog is, at its most basic, what the title suggests—an assiduous “log” of each of Deakin’s encounters with water. But it’s also a beautiful ode to the act of swimming outdoors that morphs into a rousing reminder of the importance of caring for the commons. Through ecstatic and exacting descriptions of his many swims, Deakin introduces the reader both to the pleasures of outdoor swimming and to the richness of the natural landscape. He paddles about in sun-warmed tide pools and squelches in tidal mud. He bodysurfs around boulders in clear rushing rivers and snorkels with salmon migrating upstream. One section about descending, or “potholing,” into the evocatively named Hell Gill canyon made me stab at the page margins with anxious exclamation marks.” (https://www.theatlantic.com/culture/archive/2021/05/roger-deakin-waterlog-why-wild-swimming/618974/)