SENSUAL SWIMMING
It is 20 years since Roger Deakin’s Waterlog was published. Subtitled A Swimmer’s Journey through Britain, it has inspired countless readers, myself included, to explore the waterways of this country. It is a paean to the wild swimmer, a celebration of the shivery joy of submersion in the natural world, and for me was the start of an outdoor swimming journey that has taken me from London lidos to Welsh mountain lakes to ice cold rivers in eastern Europe.
The very idea of ‘wild swimming’ causes vexation in some quarters, including I am sure a selection of readers of this magazine. “It is just swimming,” they say. But for me wild swimming is a peculiar classification, a species of swimming that is more than just swimming outdoors. At its core is a communion with nature. Floating alone in a lake, watching a chevron of geese cut through the mist of an autumn morning, finding yourself subsumed into the landscape as dark water chills your skin is an experience beyond “just swimming”.