Great East Swim

Alton Water is a pretty big reservoir near Ipswich, which is usually out of bounds to swimmers but this September hosted the Great East Swim – part of the Great Swim series which started last year in Lake Windermere.

All these swims are just 1 mile, not such a great distance perhaps, but it was well organized, lots of family stuff to do (Brendan made a bird box) and it felt good to be part of a genuinely mass participation swimming event. The Outdoor Swimming Society were there in sky blue with a nice hot tub – though the weather was so summery that it was hardly needed.

Most people were in full wetsuits, with a water temp of about 18. There were about 10 waves of 100-150 swimmers each, plus elite men and women. The men’s was won by a tiny young Brit called Tom in 16:24 (that’s fast – the world 1500m indoor record is 14:35), the women’s by a German in 18:08, ahead of the Beijing Olympic 10k gold, silver and bronze medalists – a really elite field down in rural Suffolk!

It was Kerry Ann Payne, 2nd in Beijing, who started my wave off. The water was murky, but seemed warmer than the sea. I decided to swim on the left as I breath to the right, but as the course was a clockwise loop this meant that I swam quite wide, so maybe an extra 50-100m. But it was quite civilized, with little triathlon-like thrashing.

I tried to increase speed through the swim, aiming for sub-30 mins, which I just managed, at 29:42, timed via a chip on the ankle. So a very satisfying climax to a fine summer’s swimming and I’ll certainly do it again next year.

Spurn to Cleethorpes

Swimming Spurn Point to Cleethorpes (pics 8-1 top to bottom)

On Wednesday 9th Sept 09 we set off to Grimsby Docks to meet Pete our pilot to attempt the swim from Spurn to Cleethorpes, 4.25miles in a straight line. Several dates had come and gone during the summer. Problems due to weather and the fact that the Spurn Sanctuary would not allow water vessels of any type to launch from Spurn. This meant that all of the team had to approach from the south (Grimsby) using landing craft which could not be detected by Spurn radar (pic1). This also meant that 2 swimmers was the maximum with Pete’s boat.
The weather was near perfect, warm, sunny and a light to moderate northly wind. The water felt very warm>20oC. We attached the kayak behind Pete’s boat and set off out of the docks at about 10.45. It took over an hour to reach Spurn. We landed with our gear but nearly got the boat stuck as the tide went out (pic2). With everyone pushing we floated it again. After this Pete stayed in the boat while we had a picnic on the windswept sandy beach looking across to Cleethorpes (pic3), whistling the tune to ‘Robinson Crusoe’ who was of course came from Hull. Simon was keen and had his suit on early. The coastguard kept us waiting while large ships went by. I couldn’t quite believe that after so much planning we were actual going to swim. Suddenly Pete gave us the nod and we were off. The water was warm and salty as we swam along side the Spurn beach. As we rounded the point the current took hold and we started moving, out to sea! The northly meant that the waves were coming mostly from behind. The shipping lane and deep water channel is very close to Spurn we could see big ships passing very close (pic4) and the waves got quite choppy. Soon we left Spurn behind (pic5) and into the shipping lane (pic6). Pete steered us expertly across and we were soon amongst the ships at anchor(pic7). The first time we spoke to Pete we had been swimming for 28 minutes and were assured we were making good progress. We had no idea. Our first drink came at 1hr 15mins and we felt we had been swimming solidly and covering a lot of ground. We could see the southerly shore but did not know where exactly. Pete shouted us on there was no time to loose. Simon and I were swimming quite close. Simon occasionally slowing to let me catch-up which endeared him to Pete as he had been worried about taking more than one swimmer at a time. Pete’s anxiety was also allayed by having Miriam paddling well to support me for the whole crossing and having Elena in the boat to keep him company and take lots of photos.
We were well over half-way when our support crew started gesticulating wildly. We looked up to see seals, larger than us swimming alongside. Quickly Pete was shouting to keep going so we did. Just past the 2nd fort and 2 hrs into the swim we turned and started swimming against the waves. For the first time I started feeling tired. We both swam alongside the beach on instruction from Pete. Suddenly he shouted ‘stand-up!’ We had finished. Very satisfying and although we would have liked to go on the beach it was difficult to hold the boat with the currents. We were waist deep and about 20 yards from the beach but as we motored back we suddenly found ourselves aground and had to jump out to push the boat over the sand bar. After that we could relax (pic7) arriving at the dock gates as the sun set (pic8) only to be locked-out awaiting a ship on the inside to come out. Fortunately the dock team took pity on us cold, wet and hungry crew and invited us into their mess for a hot shower and tea. Finally we got through the gates and arrived back at the sailing club in near darkness but very pleased with the day.
Simon and I were extremely pleased with the opportunity to swim the estuary (time 2hr 22mins) and are very grateful to Pete Winchester for his expertise and boat, to my daughter Miriam for her paddling and Elena for being co-pilot, photographer and good company.

Saturday morning swimming

Saturday Morning Swimming

Recently Caroline and I were coming up from the beach talking about early memories of outdoor swimming in Felixstowe. Of course the Palmer’s Pool was key, as well as the family beach hut, long since sold.

For Car, the Palmer’s pool meant time spent on Sundays. For me, their lightly-heated banana-shaped pool looking out to a windswept horizon of fields and river, was a Saturday memory. Bright, intensely sunny and carefree Saturday mornings, cycling there with Caroline and swimming in crystal clear sunshine-infused water. And Saturday mornings have always retained that sense of freedom and simple pleasure for me, as often as possible involving swimming and sunshine.

Yesterday morning had just that sunny Saturday feeling. It was Brucey’s 3rd birthday, the weather still a mix of sea breeze and Indian summer. While the little ones enjoyed the leisure centre play area, Brendan and I took a few steps down to the beach by the pier. It was low tide with a slight swell, so good conditions for some body surfing and boogie boarding on this sandy stretch of Felixstowe’s very own Blue Flag beach.

No one else was in of course, and Brendan wore his wetsuit as the sea temperature has been dropping off noticeably since the start of September. But with the sun mostly out from behind the clouds I loved the freshness of the water, the fun with Brendan looking out for the biggest waves, and our enthusiastic but probably unspectacular surfing efforts. Twenty-five minutes couldn’t be better spent.

And then another reminder of childhood swims - the welcome whiff of a big beach towel. It must be a mixture of various bodies with salt and suncream added, but the end result is so familiar and, it seemed to me yesterday, chilled as I was, with a tangible and comforting warmth.

We were still in time for the main event of the morning – Brucey’s birthday party. My Saturday morning reminiscences never included coffee and cake at the Little Ice Cream Co., but perhaps many years from now they will, and maybe Brendan’s will too.

Como-tion

The main purpose of this blog is to enable me to think up swimming related puns. 'Como' is so rich with possibilities that I have decided to go for a simple and straightforward pun. Lake Como is also as rich with possibilities as it is with the impossibly rich. We (Moorhouse and Bennett families) were lucky enough to be staying with one of their number in a beautiful house by the Lake a couple of miles from George Clooney's place and just down the lake from where part of Casino Royale was filmed (Daniel Craig rather than David Niven version).

At the house there was a decent sized outdoor pool where Maddy demonstrated her total confidence in the water and Amy decided to take off her arm bands and swim under water for as long as she could hold her breath. Naturally the pool featured in the daily 'phys' routine for Dom and I too.

We mostly used the Lake for wake boarding but one day we all went out for a turn in the speedboat. Stopping

to take in the ancient looking houses dotted among the wooded hills and hugging the shore we all decided to take to the water. Amazingly for water so deep and so close to the Alps it is perfectly warm. All the children jumped in from the boat and swam, unconcerned with the 400m of water below them.

So while there was fun to be had on the Lake, my thoughts naturally turned to swimming across from Moltrasio to the town on the other side. It is probably less than a kilometre of warm fish filled clear water but it is fairly busy and the traffic tends to be fast. However with a safety boat it would be safe. Did we use the boat to enable this challenge? No, we never got around to it. only on the last day did we recognise this missed opportunity. So we have unfinished family business in Italy, maybe next year.

Two week-ends in August

Since stopping work in London last year my open water swimming has dropped right off. I haven’t managed to replace my weekly dip in the Serpentine with one in the Frome at Farleigh Hungerford despite now being a member of the club or even a quick dip in the Avon that I cycle alongside every day. This is primarily to do with time. If I do have time on my cycle from Bath to Trowbridge I am more likely to go to the university to practice in the 50m indoor pool. Over the last couple of weeks I have managed to enjoy a few outdoor dips. Firstly at Parliament Hill lido on Hampstead Heath. Although it is a little municipal looking, the water is lovely – clear and relatively un-chlorinated and it is big. It also has a kind of reflective metal bottom which makes the water sparkle even more. The real surprise was how quiet it was. Maybe it was because it was before midday when we arrived and of course its size, but it seemed oddly quiet. Of the people that were there, many were kids and there was a diversity of backgrounds and cultures. The following day Steve and I went to the men’s pond on Hampstead Heath. I’d been past a couple of times and never ventured in. The setting is beautiful but first you face the changing area. The construction is functional at best. The novelty is the nude sunbathing area, random yoga practice and uninhibited staring by some of the men. It’s a bit disconcerting if you aren’t used to it. Once in the water it is tranquil and calm, and the water is clean and soft. It is so different from the Serpentine. The pond is large enough for a good swim around but probably not so great for long distance practice so I guess you wouldn’t get so many triathletes and channel contenders. It feels cosy because it is mostly bordered by trees and bushes, the Serps feels much more open. It also has a sprung diving board which encourages play and silliness. The Serps has a more clubby feel out of the water– it is a club after all – with it supply of tea, biscuits and banter. The men’s pond feels more friendly in the water. I really kick myself that after working so close to this lovely spot for four years I only swam in it after I left London.

The following week-end we went camping at Hartland Point in north Devon . We went for a walk to get our bearings and spied the waterfall at Spekes Mill. A bit later I went for a run to the waterfall and saw that it fell into two pools. I climbed over the notional barrier the down a vague footpath to the pools. The water moved quite quickly and I can’t say that I really swam and I didn’t even go under the waterfall. Caution got the better of me as I was alone and no one knew I was down there. Still it was great to get in the water. The following day, after the rain cleared, we went to Bude. As well as a sandy beach there is a large pool built in to the cliff which refills with water every high tide. This water is a little warmer than the sea and as well as being a bit more pleasant for kinds it allows swimmers to plough up and down without being thrown around by the swell or getting in the way of surfers. I’m not sure how long it is and I only did a few laps, but there were a couple of more dedicated ORCA wetsuit wearing chaps who made a better job of it.

Off to Lake Como this week-end. Swimming in a warm Italian lake doesn’t have the same heroic resonance as swimming outdoors in the UK . Might be more pleasant though.

Kazakhstan - a great place to...swim

One of the world's most securely landlocked countries may not be top of the list for summer swimming, but the land famous-ish for the mankini has been great for getting wet in the wild and clocking up some proper lengths these last 3 weeks.

We spent 2 days at the 122km-long Lake (reservoir) Kapchagai (pictured). Got in two 40min morning swims with the Dzungar Alatau mountains in the distance and, if the locals were to be believed, a couple of man-sized catfish ('Som' in Russian) lurking below. "Do they bite people?" I asked. "Bite?! They eat people!" the two squatting Kazakh men replied, almost convincingly "we were worried about you" they added tenderly. Later I was reasured to learn that Som have only been known to eat small people...

Returning to Almaty, it was good to get back to the superb Olympic-sized open-air central pool. Again with snowy peaks as a backdrop, but this time with national squads sharing the water rather than catfish, getting in 2-3km before breakfast has been a highlight. 28km covered in all, made easy by sunny mornings, perfect competition temp (27C I think) and swimmers' lane discipline, which is in stark contrast to the local drivers.

Other splashy moments have included a freezing shower in the 'holy water' of the Turgen gorge and a visit to an Almaty aqua park whose near-vertical slides ripped my shorts to shreds and gave Brendan a black eye after a high-speed capsize. Never have I seen a lifeguard less interested in a distraught 7 year old.

We leave tomorrow. Even after a decade living here, Kazakhstan still springs surprises - some of them wet, a few of them catfish.

North Frodingham to Bethel's Bridge

North Frodingham to Bethel’s Bridge
On the OS map this looks a little over 3 miles of very meandering, gentle water. Mike had jogged it and announced that it was swimable with no significant dangers including swans. (I might say here that an early season swim below Bethel’s Bridge when the cygnets were small resulted in a spectacular attack on Mike which could have been very nasty for anyone made of lesser stuff. We all got out and found it very entertaining!)
A beautiful mid-week evening in July gave us the opportunity to leave a car at Bethel’s Bridge and drive around to North Frodingham and we thought near the source of the River Hull. Opposite the historic church in NF is a grassy car park and bank with steps down into about a 3 foot deep, clear, still siding. In fact this ‘wharf’ was manmade and feeds into the River Hull a little further downstream.
In we leapt. It was cool enough for all 5 of us to get going. Immediately we were gliding along. At the first heads-up we were all thrilled with the clarity of the water, the fish and the support by surprised cattle. There was no turning back. The only way out was Bethel’s Bridge. We surged on and gradually the river widened as we joined the Hull River with other sidings coming in. In no time at all we saw the only landmark which was a metal bridge. This signalled less than 20 mins to home. We were going well and only just overhauled by a cruiser coming downstream. We raised a laugh from some fishermen before hauling ourselves out at Bethel’s Bridge in 58 mins. I might say that our friends the swans were flexing their wings a few yards away on the other side of bridge daring is to swim under it.
Mike had hot chocolate ready which went well before stopping in Brandesburton for some excellent fish n chips. We chose not to go in the Black Swan opposite, not that there is anything in a name!
It was a truly exhilarating swim and I recommend it to anyone who thinks that indoor swimming pools are fun and clean.
Having swum Bethel’s Bridge to Baswick Landing it now seems that the next challenge would be Frodingham to Baswick about 5 miles.

Thanks to Mike, Steve, Simon and Nina for a great evening swim.

Sean Bennett

First swim at Felixstowe 2009

The main thing about this quick sea dip was being able to get changed at home and wander straight down to the beach, just over the road and down some steps.

The water temp (30 May) was just 13.5C (bath thermometer tied to wrist!) and a north-easterly wind whistled up under my swimming hat but the sun was still peeking over the cliffs, so bobbed happily about watching kite- and windsurfers for 15 mins.

The flexibility of living this close to the beach is wonderful, and there seem to be no rocks just here, so bodes well for regular sea swimming this year.

Our rented place is apparently named The Beach House (almost small enough to have been The Beach Hut) and in the garage we've found a brightly-painted slate sign to prove it. Having taken this first home-based plunge, seems it's time to get the sign up, and the summer underway...

New year' day swim - the tradition grows

The Farleigh and District River Swimming Club is thought to be the country’s last river swimming club, nestled in Farleigh Hungerford, between Bath and Trowbridge. It was in these wild waters of the River Frome that the inaugural New Year’s Day swim of 01 January 2008 took place. Fuelled by the alcoholic bravado of a preceding festive week, Serpentine stalwarts Dom Moorhouse and Joe Bennett convinced a virginal ‘new boy’, Tony, that the experience would be a rejuvenating ‘kick start’ to the New Year.

Roll forward twelve months and idle banter emerged again; could this be the nascent rumblings on which great traditions are built? As the date approached, and temperatures plummeted, the idea slipped backwards. That is, until its irrational renaissance at the Carney’s New Year Bash when, during the height of insobriety, a host of potential new initiates were again seduced by the concept. When

 everyone awoke hours later on 01 Jan 2009 to sub-zero temperatures, a whiff of mass cowardice hung in the air. A myriad of text messages later, and support from Monsieur ‘Pierre Pressure’, saw five brave volunteers mustered, with families, to maintain the tradition. Step forward Dom Moorhouse (co-founder), Darren Stradling, Pete Carney, James and Paul (both casual visitors to previous night’s revelry). After debating the temperature (“my car thermometer seizes to measure below zero”) we agreed it was “potatoes in the mold” and should get briskly on with it.

The River Frome site is a great spot, nestled between pasture upstream of a weir, but it was distinctly devoid of other swimmers at this time of year. Quickly stripping out of scarves, hats and gloves, with bemused children looking on, the five prepared themselves for a swift dip. Pete Carney, who had last been seen in a drunken embrace of a smashed, expensive standard lamp some hours beforehand, looked particularly unimpressed. Once readied, Dom described the sad circumstances as to why his co-conspirator could no longer be in attendance and the swim was respectfully dedicated to his deceased father – the inimitable Doctor 

John Bennett – who had sadly passed away that morning. Whilst it is not known whether Dr John partook in wild swimming himself, he certainly raised an impressive clan of four – all of whom, in free-spirited adulthood, are known to oft enjoy the rarely-ploughed watery furrows of river, lake and sea. As such, Dom felt confident the gesture would have had the blessing of a proud and genial man.

With shared sentiment, the group proceeded to the lonely rope swing. In such temperatures, this had to be the optimal entry method. Dom duly tested and, post brazen shock, trod water in situ to coax in the remainder. The bracing sensation he endured was given due reward in that he had prize place in which to spectate the ‘frozen horror’ visages of each of the ensuing plungers. First James, then a still-inebriated Pete (who sobered up in micro-seconds) followed by an agile Darren (who got some impressive plunge height). Last, but not least, the irrepressibly good-humoured Paul brought up the rear. Suffice to say, the exits were rapid (indeed torpedo-like) and wives supported the towelling and re-dressing efforts as fingers and toes ‘gave up the ghost’. Ok, I exaggerate for effect – but you get the drift.

After a final volley of after photos, the content smugness of the physical

 and spiritual afterglow effect kicked in. Like Knights retuning from Agincourt , we trudged out of the field, talking about shared combat and annual re-visits. This must surely lay the way for an annual tradition of note. Maybe, in ten years or so, the banks will be awash with spectators, marquees and heater lamps? With such musings, we departed for a hot Fish Pie and beer at The George in Norton St Phillip – all in hearty agreement that this should also become another dimension of future New Year Day gatherings. On on!

RIP Dr. J Bennett (1930 - 2009)