#wild swimming
Pushing out into the milky blue waters, letting the warm liquid take my weight and making those first few strokes across the pool toward those snowy mountains in the distance; that was how this morning began.
Few things are more refreshing than an early morning swim, a chance to wake up and stretch, enjoy an hour of open headspace before the rest of the world rises. Not that there were many people around; the waters weren’t exceptionally hot but neither was the weather, and this was enough to put most off. The main appeal for us was that this pool was just the right size and depth for swimming in.
The steam swirled upwards in the thin winter sunshine, a herd of goats crossed the old Ottoman bridge with a tinkling of bells, and we swam. Back and forth, round and round, algae tickling our feet and the constant crashing of water falling from the pool into the river, staining it too that surreal milky blue as it filtered down through the valley.
The nights were cold and filled with starlit skies, alive with the croaking of bullfrogs and the rushing of river water. The days were peaceful and cool, broken up only by short visits into the nearby town of Permët.
We had a blissful feeling of completeness here, a sense of comforting familiarity we could seldom find on the road. This was the area we’d stayed in when we first came to Albania, and we loved it so much then we spent a whole week here. Little had changed in two years, apart from the damage caused by country-wide flooding had been repaired and the family of stray cats we’d fed were long gone, to be replaced by a timid yet local black dog who crept out of the shadows at night in search of food.
Sadly we didn’t have the luxury of time on our side this time, and after three short days we were onto our next destination in a bid to get our battered old van repaired before she could let us down again…
But we would always miss the milky blue waters of Benjë, tucked away in this furtive little valley, and we would remember this corner of Albania fondly.
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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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? ⠀
