Water for the Soul
This is a beautiful piece, recently published in the stunning journal , Soulhub. Written by Sarah Fyson, one of our yoga teachers. Sit back, relax and enjoy….
Why I like throwing myself out of my comfort zone into freezing cold water.
5th December 2019: 6am. I’m warm and snug. Outside a cold, dark, silent winter morning. The trees in the park opposite my window move in the wind. They are my benchmark for the cold air. I want to stay put.
My feelings have a duality about them. Grumpy yet tenacious, driven yet reticent, my mind at war with itself. I swing my legs out of bed. ‘Think less, do more,’ A mantra borrowed from a friend. Tenacity and drive are in the lead, grumpy and reticent are dragged along for the ride. I have committed to an icy, dawn dip.
Although a novice to icy waters, I’ve always swum, since I jubilantly launched myself, front crawl, one full width across a pool. That moment of triumph, etched vividly into my memory.
During the 70’s and 80’s my sisters and I spent hours in the sea at Polzeath, holding tightly onto our white polystyrene bodyboards, clad in costumes, legs rubbed red raw in the waves, occasionally being churned in a spin cycle, momentarily scared, gasping for breath and going back for more. Oh, the halcyon days. It was here in North Cornwall my lifetime love of water truly began.
Driving over the headland listening to Dad’s compilation with tunes like ‘‘God only Knows,’ by The Beach Boys, we’d ache to be the first one to call, ‘I can see the sea.’ The excitement and wildness of it, the freedom it evoked, looking out the window in anticipation of feeling the wind, sand and salty water. At that moment I wanted to be nowhere else.
Sarah and family swimming in the sea as kids
However, I’m a far cry from that hazy memory. The thought of that damn cold wintery water is screaming at my mind to stay in my bed.
But I’m here, in the car! And there are others coming too! My body dutifully playing along despite inner turmoil. I have: camera, tripod, dry robe, swimming costume, neoprene swim socks, hat and towel. Warm clothes for after and most essentially a cup of hot tea in my camelbak. Clevedon’s Victorian, once desolate Marine Lake, brilliantly restored is our destination.
We arrive, walk a short distance and perch on cold concrete. Placing hot drinks ready, we shed warm clothes. ‘Don’t think, do,’ costumes on, walk towards steps, grasp the cold metal rail, move, toes, shins, thighs, into the lake’s icy embrace, keep going, down, into the water and, kick, launch, I’ve done it, ooooohhh, deep inhale, deep exhale, breathe..... breathe....
I pool swim with friends. In 2017 Sal suggested we entered the Swoosh, a picturesque, outdoor, six km swim from Aveton Gifford to Bantham Bay. Clad in wetsuits, we commenced training in April. It was freezing! I was reticent. We chose to fundraise for Breast Cancer Care, which gave me purpose. My dearest friend had a recent diagnosis. She had to go through chemo, all I had to do was swim.
We raised over £2k. Once I found my walking legs and stumbled onto Bantham’s sandy shores, that lovely sunny evening in June into the throes of our smiling proud families, I felt elated, sated and happy. The Burgh Island miler followed and in September 2019 we swam the Dart 10k, I wasn’t reluctant anymore and exiting the Dart through the line of onlookers was pretty freaking awesome.
Since our collective watery journey began, we’ve had many life changing events. We’ve seen each other, excited, anxious, sad, sleep deprived, adrenaline fuelled but the constant was the water. Inspired to document raw, real, beautiful, friendships and swimming, I started filming.
Unsure what direction to take with my watery footage, my friend Mags exclaimed, ‘Sar, “Why don’t we just swim once a week through winter in skins and document that?’ Yes I thought, excitement and dread kicked in simultaneously.
The following week four of us dipped in the lake under blue skies. It was glorious. That was September. Since then the group of swimmers, hailing from across the globe, has reached 60 plus. Named BODS, (Bristol Outdoor Dippers) we dip weekly, sometimes more, sharing lifts to the lake and beyond.
Immersion in cold water causes skin to rapidly cool as blood rushes to vital organs. Breathing and heart rate increases. Cortisol is released and fight or flight mechanism kicks in. If you brave the icy dip regularly enough your body acclimatizes to the shock.
Getting dry and dressed quickly followed by a hot drink to gently warm you from the inside is essential as the warm blood in your core starts to remix with the cold blood in
your extremities, causing your deep body temperature to fall.
You might experience the ‘after-drop,’ when your core temperature plummets. I find this moment fascinating. The process takes around twenty minutes and is why shivering sets in a little later. When I exit the water the release of stress hormones makes me feel clear, inspired and alert.
One particularly still morning, I was the last to get in the water. Battling with my freezing hands to secure my camera to the tripod, what struck me as I turned to witness our group drop one by one into the lake, down and out into its icy shrouds was how quiet and silent they were, pushing off from the side like ducks to water, each focused on their own breath and personal journey with grace, poise and inner strength. Shocked into focus, in a beautiful shared experience by the sea. It took my breath away before the water did that for me.
There's something great about cold water camaraderie, the connection between people and the shared feelings it induces.
Dipping isn’t necessarily a sporting activity nor is it competitive. It’s a mind overcoming matter activity. Not wanting to get up early in the morning but doing it anyway, regardless of inner conflict. As we move from our comfort zones into freezing cold water, we adjust and reap the benefits. Physically dealing with the shock of it somehow makes other daily challenges seem easier.
January 10th 2020. Full moon. High tide. A penumbral eclipse, what the Native Americans and Medieval Europeans call a wolf moon. The moon. It never ceases to take me by surprise and wonder. I am in awe of it. The pull of tides, new energies and cycles. Water, the power of water is so strong and we are heading for our first night dip.
I muse over semantics with a friend en route. I’ve been gathering words from fellow BODS since last October to sum up feelings pre and post swim. Our brains, fighting with thoughts of plunging ourselves into the dark Bristol Channel, are finding words hard to pin down. Flippant, nonplussed, apathetic, giddy, we chuck them around, sabotaging positive with negative. Instinct understands cold water can kill. I am exhilarated and aghast by our carefree abandon. The sea is dangerous yet the benefits of dipping with the respect it deserves are paramount.
We gather en masse by Clevedon Pier – a gaggle of cold water swimmers. The excitement tangible, the evening still and cold. The wondrous moon! It’s low, wintery glow, an exciting backdrop for our adventure. I feel naughty, giddy and reluctant.
We change, lit by the moon and the lights on the pier. It’s exciting and cold. Sometimes this winter the water temperature has dropped as low as four degrees. Excitement overrides nervousness and people bob around with lit up tow floats and head gear like ethereal water nymphs in the dark expanse. Eventually I drag myself out the water. A lovely lady offers around homemade lemon drizzle cake.
Gathered post dip words speak volumes:, attuned, primal, clear, alive, elemental, focused, surprised, peaceful and reset. Reset. Wow. I think I’m addicted.
The last time I dipped was in the river in deserted Farleigh Hungerford, on Mother’s Day. I’d swam weekly from September. For now I will have to suffice with poetic clips of the sea sent by a member of BODS who has recently moved to Devon and dutifully records them for us on her daily walks.
Although this current pandemic is at times challenging and tragic, I feel good things too. It’s a time for reflection and finding new ways to move forward and support our world. I miss family and friends. I don’t miss racing around or being stuck in traffic. I’m slowing down, taking stock. This winter dipping has been enlightening. It’s helped me to focus on the moment. It gives me perspective, clarity and inspires me. Hearing the mental and physical benefits related to me by fellow swimmers is humbling.
Water has supported me and provided haven when I’ve needed it most. As a girl it helped me discover my true self so when I get lost I can navigate my way back, my way home. For now it’s time for the earth and water to breathe, rest and heal. It's a beautiful thing and a reliable constant friend. If there is one thing I can dwell on in my reflection, its gratitude and respect for our oceans.
“There's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away.” Sarah Kay
For useful information on swimming safely in cold water, information on Marine Lake Clevedon and finding professional open water coaches visit:
www.outdoorswimmingsociety.com
About Sarah
Sarah has a degree in Visual and Performing arts from Brighton University and a post graduate in Acting from the Oxford School of Drama. She teaches Drama and English for the Hospital service in Bristol and is a Hatha yoga instructor. Her teaching is influenced by years of ‘moving,’ whether it be through dance, performance or through water! She has always swum and was a pool and beach lifeguard from her teens till the end of her degree. She teaches yoga in Bristol, Clevedon and with Open Minds Active. She can be found at sunrise, Thursday mornings (when not in lockdown) in Marine Lake in Clevedon. She lives with her husband and 3 children in Bristol.