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)

Christmas 2008

Christmas morning on Felixstowe beach saw many people about to plunge in for St Elizabeth Hospice. Water temp 4oC with a brisk easterly wind. Several Bennetts arrived to watch and we met Rob Allan who inspired us to join the group. This unfortunately meant that Joe wasn't with us but the adrenaline surge took over and within a few minutes Seamus, Miriam, William and Sean stripped off and plunged in for the briefest 'swim' of the year. We thought a second dip would be more pleasant but was no different! Very exhilarating and finished off with some 'vin chaud'. Next time Joe and after the November training, sorry.

North Pole

Last night I met someone who rather knocks the Felixstowe Ferry crossing and even the Humber Bridge crossing for six. His name is Lewis Pugh and he swam a kilometre at the North Pole and has swum the full length of the Thames to raise awareness about global warming. He's the first and I think only person to have done these swims. He was saying that he is able to psychologically raise his body temperature. So that when he gets into icy water he is sweating. I'm hoping that I have picked up his technique for our Christmas swim. It is worth looking him up on wikipedia to see what he has done. 

Groupie

The Bennett's of Bath were in Felixstowe for the week-end at the end of October/ start of November to take advantage of Seamus and Anel's last week-end in the big house on Links Ave. Naturally we headed for the beach on the Friday. The weather had cooled significantly so we were all wrapped up, but it was a lovely evening with the sun setting over the gently lapping shore at the 'lagoon'. (I'm sure there must be an EEC regulation about calling a piece of the north sea surrounded by concrete a 'lagoon' on the grounds of false description.) I hadn't planned to go in but the weather forecast for the rest of week-end was pretty dire so I thought this would be my only chance. I had my trunks in the car but no hat and had to use a sheet (actually Maddy's Halloween ghost costume) for a towel. The water was freezing! I've no idea how cold as I'm not good at gauging it but I had a quick swim out to the end of the spit and back.  Since stopping working in London I haven't been having my weekly dip in the Serpentine so I'm not drilled in cold water enjoyment like I used to be. That was part of my reason for swimming now, so I'd be prepared for the Christmas swim at Felixstowe and the New Year's Day dip in the Frome at Farleigh and District Club.

Maddy and Amy were indifferent to my ostentatious aquatic activity, however it did draw one admirer. A very posh old lady came over to congratulate me for my pluck. She seemed genuinely pleased to see someone doing something out of the ordinary. I do think that the world is divided into people that think you are mad/ stupid to jump in cold water and those that smile and think it a joyous and celebratory thing to do. I think it is the latter group that have the greater openness and zest for life.  

Anyway self-affirmation aside, it was very cold but I was glad I'd done it.

It chucked it down on Saturday but I reluctantly managed a dip on Sunday. Seamus and I went to the lagoon. It was a pleasant evening so quite a few people were there walking dogs and so on. I didn't want to strip off, wal

k through a crowd of onlookers and get in the sea to make a spectacle of myself so Seamus suggested a spot just near his new house below the steps near the old beach hut. This was a much more private spot but this time I was going off the idea because of the cold. It's very easy to talk yourself out of a swim and be left irritated with yourself that you didn't 'just do it'. So I had a quick swim, with only an audience of Seamus. I have to say that I was glad that he was there just in case of an emergency. Ever since the rip tie incident in the summer my respect for the sea at Felixstowe has increased. So that's my training for Christmas morning complete, roll on December!