Immersion
We all know that if we push ourselves outside our comfort zone, we’ll experience magic, we’ll feel alive. So why then, do we allow ourselves to be gripped with such (seemingly) irrational fear and anxiety that it (almost …) stops us even wanting to have a go?
All Images by Viv Rickman
Having spent the weekend on a mountain swimming course with Vivienne Rickman, I’m not sure I can answer that question, but I do know that I felt the magic.
For many years I’ve not been interested in going into the water, for a number of reasons, and the longer I’ve left it, the more hesitant I’ve been and the more difficult it has become to dip a toe in.
Something has shifted in me
When the Good Life Experience opened up their lake in 2018 with ‘wild’ swimming creative sessions led by Vivienne, weirdly I found myself popping my name down. I had been following her on Instagram for a while and was in love with her underwater photography; the female form, graceful and beautiful gliding across the grid, usually with red painted nails. Tracking her story about cold water swimming was spellbinding.
So I swam in the lake with Viv, albeit attached to her via her rescue board. It was such a joyous thing to do that I signed up again in 2019.
Again, into the water, around the lake attached via a rescue board. Literally, one month later, and I am back in Viv’s reassuring company, taking a very quick (VERY chilly) dip in the River Dye, flowing downstream with the current, attached - you guessed it - to the board.
My next immersion happened on a gloriously warm, sunny July day in 2020 in the River Teifi. My idea and Mr Fables joined in to keep me company (and to boost my confidence). Fast forward to January 2021 and we are locked down in Portugal; on one occasion I felt comfortable getting into the wild Atlantic sea, which is always raging; perfect for surfers looking for waves and thrills, less so for nervous swimmers.
Something was happening though.
Each time, I wanted more.
But was I holding myself back?
Was it fear? Anxiety? Both?
Mr Fables isn’t hugely interested in swimming (though he can swim) but he has actively encouraged me to keep going with it. Since returning to the UK in April, there have been several sea dips, a glorious dawn swim, post-beach yoga dusk dips, and splashing around with a waterfall as a backdrop.
When the opportunity came up to swim with Viv again, I jumped at it.
Before I could talk myself out of it, the Mountain Swimming Weekend was booked and paid for. I even booked a 1:1 water confidence session the day before to prepare myself so I didn’t feel like a fraud with fellow swimmers.
But suddenly there it was, the gripping fear that almost stopped me getting in. Perched on the shoreline, at the ready, one - two - three. Viv’s gently encouraging, calm attitude worked its magic and I was in. Goggles became my new best friend (oh, until they malfunction and start to leak!) and I am heading out towards the middle of a lake.
It’s deep; I’d rather not know how deep but I’m curious too. It’s deep is the reply. Yet, I feel electric. Despite the bleakness of this particular day, the darkness of the lake, and the malevolent conditions, I’m in the water, smiling and whooping.
From the lake to the silken waters of the river, in we go again. This is different, less intimidating but still deep. I’m beginning to really enjoy this thing I’m doing.
Back to the campsite and I’m bursting to tell Mr Fables all about my day; I’m buzzing, speaking even faster than usual!
Onto Day 1 of the course, meeting the others, delighted to learn that one lady is also ‘a head above water breast stroke’ sort of swimmer; I found that I wasn’t bothered by the fact the other two swimmers were proper swimmers.
A hike to a bleak wild remote spot with a lake. The mist is hiding the craggy peak behind the water, the wind is creating waves on the surface, and I’m not feeling the love for this place. But again, before I can talk myself out of it, I find myself in the water, picking my steps gingerly over the sharp slippy stones then through a kind of reedy something; I’d rather not know what. Now I’m in the middle of a very large, black, deep Welsh lake (clinging to the rescue board like there’s no tomorrow) knowing I’ve got to get myself back to the shore under my own steam (knowing that Viv is never very far from me). I had invested in some swimming gear and one item which had yet to be tested was a tow float. I can report that it was an absolute game-changer for me. Knowing that I could just pause and yet still be safe was enough for me.
With the weather still not really behaving, we started Day 2 with a hike to a different remote wild spot. This time the lake, while deep, was going to be a clear blue one because of the geology of this particular area.
I’m on the shoreline, tow float attached, and then into the water. The backdrop to this particular lake was shrouded in a heavy mist that decided to reveal itself to us while we all moved through the chilly millpond-like waters. The sun even tried to shine but only once we all got out, before nature closed back in on itself; we had had our moment and it was truly stunning.
A final dip in a river pool with waterfalls drew the weekend to a close. While there had been tentative head immersions and tweaks made to my (what we’ll call a) breaststroke technique, it had not been about ‘points for style’.
It had been a celebration of my growing confidence; it was an immersion in the moment; it had been magical.
“It’s deep; I’d rather not know how deep but I’m curious too. It’s deep is the reply. Yet, I feel electric. Despite the bleakness of this particular day, the darkness of the lake, and the malevolent conditions, I’m in the water, smiling and whooping.”
