#wild swim
We’ve only been wild swimming for the past year or so, mainly in Cornish quarries, Alpine lakes and once in the blue Danube, but this was by far the coldest water I’ve swum in.
After a night spent camping in the Welsh forest, sheltering under a tarpaulin from the deluge of rain, we hiked most of the way up Mount Snowdon on a typically blustery Autumn day.
We’d hiked through the Pyrenees, driven the length of the Alps, travelled across the Carpathians and explored the Accursed Mountains, but never did we realise the beauty of the mountains which lay on our very own doorstep.Snowdon was every bit as wild, every bit as barren and every bit as breathtaking as the mountains we’d explored so far, although perhaps its beauty simply struck us so poignantly because it had been so long since we’d seen a landscape this untouched.
Feet hot and aching post-hike, and feeling a little less than fresh three days into our camping trip, we pulled the car over next to Llyn Dinas on a whim. After a brief walk around its shore to a spot that looked suitably clear and shallow enough to climb into, I stripped off and put on my bathing suit, then eased myself into the water. It was instantly, numbingly cold, probably no more than 10°C, taking my breath away and the feeling from my toes, but I pushed myself to lower my shoulders and swim a few armlengths out into the water.
The water was invigorating, crystal clear, Autumn-hued leaves adding little splashes of colour to the glassy surface and that view- ! Luscious forested banks framing rugged peaks toward which the water stretched infinitely- this is what I focused on as I swam a few short lengths trying to warm up, and eventually my body adjusted to the temperature and I was blissfully floating.
Nothing could compare to this feeling; cold wild water, empty open space. Warm chlorinated pools could never recreate the exhilaration and freedom that swimming in wild water provides. The cold shock was said to improve your circulation and do wonders for mental health, and floating here, fully immersed, I could see why that would be true.
Wild swimming had been at the top of my agenda for our trip to Wales, and I sat in the car shivering afterward, wrapped in as many layers as I had packed, feeling truly accomplished in myself for having gone in.
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Sometimes we just need to disconnect for a while; distance ourselves from the humdrum of life and regain clarity.⠀
A few weeks ago I surprised Ben with a trip to Snowdonia for his birthday. Although we’ve driven extensively across Europe in our van, we’ve never taken the time to explore much on our home island, and Snowdonia was a place we’d always wanted to see.⠀
A six hour drive used to seem like a long way to us, but now as the miles are racking up under our belts the world is starting to seem smaller, and Wales suddenly didn’t seem that far away.⠀
This time however we opted to ditch the van, and take our five day stint away back to basics. We loaded up the car with sleeping bags, tent, walking boots, axe, coal, a tarpaulin- not that at this point we knew just how much we’d need one.⠀
We hit the road and immediately our shoulders felt lighter as the burden of routine was lifted. ⠀
When we were still in uni, I used to drive us all over Cornwall in my little, clapped-out old Polo. We’d set up camp on the cliffs, on the sands of an empty beach, or camp in the car if somebody forgot to pack the tent poles. We’d stay up til sunrise talking around the fire, in awe of the crashing waves below and the distant lights of ships on the horizon hovering above coastal fog. After a couple hours sleep at most we’d pack up our wind-flattened tent as walkers passed by and laughed, and drag ourselves into the nearest public toilets for a wash.⠀
It’s these kind of memories- haphazard, spontaneous and wonderfully simplistic that we look back on fondly, and it’s these days that inspired us to undertake an equally haphazard trip to Wales with nothing but ourselves, an old, crumpled road atlas and a car full of camping gear. We left in search of peace, in search of isolation and beautiful corners of this island, and boy did we find them.⠀
Story continues on Sunday!⠀
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Where we wish we were right now: floating on a still lake, beer in one hand, charcoaled sausage in the other, no care in the world and nothing but summer vibes.⠀
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Where we actually are right now: Sheltering in our van from the relentless Cornish rain, some of which is slowly soaking the rug on our floor, curled up with a cuppa tea and the heating on.⠀
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Happy Sunday everyone ⠀
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Photo by @brisingamen_designs ⠀
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It’s been a while since we last spent any time on social media- life’s just got in the way of many things. We’ve been so busy living, working, building our future that there’s been barely a moment to rest.
Lockdown hasn’t changed much for us, apart from being grounded and unable to travel, but truthfully we’d still be where we are now- saving money, crafting our ideas and dreams into something tangible, laying foundations for the next roadtrip. There will always be a next trip, a crazy idea flitting about the backs of our minds ready to flourish and manifest into reality; it’s not so much ? as ?
The rare moments of the summer when we’re not working on something have been spent here; our local swimming hole. A short walk through the mines and moorlands brings us out into a little slice of evening paradise. An icy but just bearable dip in the water with fish darting around our ankles followed by a jumper-wrapped warm-up by the fire, fingers greasy with oil, eating homegrown vegetables charred on the BBQ.
I guess what I’m conveying here is our lust for a simple life; simple food, simple pleasures, time away from routine, disconnected, and time spent living wildly. It’s truly tonic for the soul.
We’d love to have a little catch up with you all, so maybe drop us a comment and let us know what’s been keeping you busy this summer? ⠀
