Into The Wild (Briefly): One Woman, One Lake, One Snake.

It’s been a minute, buuuut, on a quick little trip to Lake Garda, one of the most beautiful lakes in the world (IMO), I figured it would be borderline illegal not to pack my goggles and a swim-sensible swimsuit (as opposed to one of those flimsy things I own that can’t be trusted to keep everything contained once I start doing real lengths in actual water). Obviously, I was getting in and turning my arms.
As is standard practice, important safety checks were carried out in advance. Read: a panicked Google deep-dive into “what exactly may I encounter whilst swimming in Lake Garda. Findings included trout, whitefish, cisco, bleak, sardines, pike, tench, wells catfish, perch, and eels. Naturally, this was followed by an even deeper investigation into the bleak (???), purely based on the name. (Turns out they’re tiny and not remotely threatening.)
Then came some further reading about the water snakes that also live there, which are apparently harmless unless provoked. Oh, and venomous vipers that have been seen in the lake. Also harmless unless provoked, but notably more likely to be fatal if they are.
Encouraging stuff for someone about to get in and turn the arms. Nonetheless, braving it, I got in. Me, and the swimsuit designed for functionality, not fashion.
Now, I get it. Fish, eels, snakes, et al., are pretty central to the functioning of the lake’s ecosystem, and I’m merely a guest. A slightly uneasy one, but still someone who wanted to enjoy the view without accidentally locking eyes with something cold-blooded whilst visiting, and because closing my eyes wasn’t really an option (tempting though it was), because while I had zero interest in spotting anything with fins or fangs, I did want to enjoy the absolutely stunning scenery.
And so I faced the first hurdle: the slippery green steps. Walking down? Not a chance. Who knows what might be clinging to the underside? And if it’s slippery, I will slip. So the only option was to launch myself in from the steps (which did, technically, continue beneath the water, but there was absolutely no way I was standing on those), like a hippo, as it turned out.

As we know, this would not be my first sloppy entry into a body of water. And whilst the splash alone was loud enough to draw smirks and stifled laughter from many guests, who had been, until that moment, quietly relaxing nearby, I carried on as if it were all completely intentional, avoiding eye contact at all costs, of course.
I was lucky enough to have my very own personal paparazzi and lifeguard watching from the side, but still, I decided to stay very, very close to those slimy steps. Partly because I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat, and partly because said paparazzi-lifeguard had made it crystal clear they would absolutely not be getting wet under any circumstances. I was under strict instructions to avoid any and all rescue scenarios, so I carefully swam, ever so slightly, away from the side, just long enough to take in the view, and for them to get a photo. Evidence, really. For the record.
I turned around, preparing to give a megawatt smile, the kind that says, completely at ease being the only person in a 50-kilometre lake teeming with wildlife. But to my absolute horror, my lifeguard, phone still not raised for the all-important photo, suddenly started pointing at a snake-shaped object in the water, uncomfortably close to me, and shouted, “Mayday!”
I don’t know what the odds are of coming face to face with something. Let’s call it a viper for the drama of it, because frankly, it could have been. I didn’t hang around long enough to check for fangs. And in a lake that stretches over 50 kilometres in length, and holds more water than I care to do the maths on, it had so much space to do its writhing. Literally kilometres and kilometres of open water. And yet there it was, less than five metres from me, making its presence very much known.
Alerted to its presence by the shouted “mayday” and also because, frankly, it was unmissable, and being in no position to assess whether the snake looked well-fed and thus unlikely to be in the mood for a snack, I decided I was absolutely not risking a closer encounter. I swam, faster than any Olympian ever could, the very, very short distance back to the slimy metal steps. And somehow, against all odds, I managed to exit the lake, inelegantly but impressively fast, without stubbing a toe, slipping, or screaming. Outwardly, at least.
And that, my lovely readers, wraps up what might just be the shortest (non) swim blog in history.
What I can share is that the water was gloriously clear, not too cold, and for the brief moment I was in it, before the reptilian drama unfolded, it was actually quite lovely. And, in case you were wondering, because I mentioned it's importance already, my carefully chosen, serious-swimming-not-just-sunbathing swimwear performed admirably under pressure. There were no wardrobe malfunctions during the emergency evacuation, which was a small miracle, frankly.
And so, until next time, may your swims be longer and your wildlife encounters be less dramatic than mine, and thanks, as always, for taking the time to read this. 

Wetsuits and Waves: My Battle with Grimwith's Wild Waters

So, for context, Grimwith Reservoir is situated at an elevation of 1,000 feet above sea level and is the largest reservoir managed by Yorkshire Water, holding an impressive 21,772,000 cubic meters of water and reaching depths of 41 meters - ample room for the colossal fish I’m given to understand live in it. Typically, it’s strictly off-limits to swimmers; however, this event presented a rare opportunity to conquer Grimwith's challenging waters for the very first time. I was both thrilled and slightly apprehensive to be invited to take on this swim.

I was swimming with my food friend and fellow cake lover, Jonty, who insisted we get to registration at the crack of dawn—not so much for our swim numbers, but to ensure we had time for breakfast at this café he absolutely raved about (which, as we were an hour away, meant getting up ridiculously early). And when I say early, I mean “questioning-life-choices” early. But credit where it’s due, the breakfast was worth it. 

Well-fed, we registered and decided to head to the venue—about an hour’s drive from registration—for a quick pre-swim recce. Just as we were about to head to the reservoir, we got a text: due to the conditions, the swim course had been altered for safety. I wasn’t fazed; if anything, I love the tougher swims (more on that later…).

 

We were pulling out of the parking space, when we spotted it—sweet heaven. Given the swim was shaping up to be a rough one, we reasoned that some extra “fuel” was practically essential. Dashing inside, we were greeted by shelves overflowing with every sweet imaginable, from timeless classics to sweets I hadn’t seen since my childhood. And there, like a beacon of nostalgia, were my all-time favourites—alphabet letters! Naturally, I grabbed more than one bag, and it would surprise no one to hear that one of them didn’t even survive the hour-long drive, during which time I spent the whole journey fiercely guarding my stash and refusing to share a single letter—only to discover, when we arrived, that if I’d been polite enough to offer him one, he’d have told me he didn’t actually like them anyway.

We arrived in good time to find the conditions were far worse than I’d anticipated. The wind was relentless, tearing across the water with a force that drowned out every word. Jonty, however, seemed rather pleased. I caught him muttering that the forced silence was, “Quite pleasant, really,” with the faintest hint of a grin. It seemed the weather was doing him a few favours in granting him a rare and much needed break from my continuous talking.

The wind was whipping across the water, churning it into frothy whitecaps, and from the shoreline, they appeared quite formidable, rolling higher than I had been expecting. We stood there, watching intently as the safety crew wrestled with the buoys, struggling to reposition them for the new course. Their efforts were met with the relentless wind, which seemed determined to thwart their every move, making the task look more challenging by the minute. This was the point that we began to question whether the swim would actually happen. However, as I spotted some delicious-looking pastries in the clubhouse, so I thought that if the swim were to be cancelled, the day wouldn’t be a total loss.

We watched from the shoreline as the crew secured the lines, and then the announcement came: the swim briefing would take place in 30 minutes. I dashed back to the car, knowing I would need every second of that time—and a significant amount of physical effort—to squeeze into my wetsuit (which felt uncomfortably snug) and slather on the Vaseline (yep, I remembered this time!). With urgency fuelling me, I sprang into action to get ready for the start line. Well, I say “sprang,” but it was as much springing as a tight wetsuit would allow.

The safety briefing, acclimatisation dip, and a new plan were established for Jonty. Since we would need to complete two loops of the course by exiting the water and re-entering for the second loop, this was manageable for most but required a quick change of strategy for Jonty, who had only one leg. The plan was straightforward: Jonty would get in the water, take off his prosthetic leg, and pass it to me. I would then walk back to the shoreline with his leg, where his wife would retrieve it and bring it back to the exit point for us to repeat for the second loop. Simple, right? You’d think so...

But for some inexplicable reason, Jonty decided to abandon the plan altogether (which he later explained was due to his realisation that the original plan was too “long-winded”). Instead of handing me his leg as we had discussed, he simply took it off and hurled it toward the shoreline, completely bypassing the middleman—me. However, as I was unaware of the change, I made an ill-fated attempt to catch the flying prosthetic and ended up plunging into the water in a spectacular display of flailing limbs and lost dignity, after which, there was no time to wallow in the aftermath, or to check the leg had made landfall, because Jonty was already powering through the turbulent water. Following, I quickly realised that this was not going to be an easy swim.

Jonty disappeared from sight within moments, and I was forced to stay sharp as the churning, tea-brown water tossed me around (though I couldn't help but think that the murky colour had its perks—any massive fish (or fish in general really, I’m still pretty terrified of all sizes) lurking below would stay blissfully invisible, right?). Without a doubt, these were the toughest swim conditions I’d ever faced. At points, front crawl was out of the question, and I had to resort to breaststroke (or my version of it); I’m pretty sure I swallowed half the reservoir in the process, and by the time I hit the home stretch, the water was tossing me around so wildly that I was practically airborne, my arms flailing in empty air with the water below me. Rather ironically, after all the fuss I made in having to wear it, I was beyond grateful for the buoyancy of my wetsuit—and even more for remembering to slather on Vaseline. In these conditions, spotting required constant head movement, and without it, I feared the relentless neck chafing would have turned a challenging swim into something far worse.

After the first loop, I was feeling decidedly battered, so far, it had been a rough swim, but I knew I still had enough left in me to make it around again. As I got out (inelegantly) I scanned the shoreline but saw no sign of Jonty’s leg. This left me with two possible scenarios: either a) he was ahead of me, or b) his aim had been so spectacularly off that his leg was now resting somewhere at the bottom of the reservoir. If it was option b, he’d be hearing about his awful “legendary throwing skills” every time we trained together from now on, and so would everyone else who’d listen. 

Let’s gloss over the brief walk between the loops, where I managed to trip over the safety barrier (a moment forever captured on video for all eternity by my daughter), and skip straight to the second loop, which proved to be more challenging than the first. The wind showed no mercy, swirling from every direction. Just when I thought I had found a nano-second of calm, the wind would pick up again, and I found myself fighting against yet more choppy waves, struggling to maintain my rhythm. It felt like I was swimming in a blender, with every stroke a battle.

My muscles were burning, and the constant need to adjust my stroke to combat the waves was exhausting. Every stroke felt like a test of endurance against the unpredictable conditions. It was wild, messy, and absolutely ridiculous—but for all its challenges, I was enjoying every chaotic second of it. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest—not just from exertion, but from the sheer thrill of being out there. I was *loving it (*not every second of it—there were some moments that were pretty miserable, specifically the volume of water I’d swallowed and, even worse, the moment the alphabet letters I’d eaten earlier decided to make an unwanted reappearance as I battled one particular rogue wave). Ah, the joys of open-water swimming!

After a long, hard-fought 50 minutes, I was thrilled to have completed the swim relatively unscathed. No wetsuit rash, no major disasters (excluding the impressively stubbed toe from my run-in with the safety barrier, which technically couldn’t be counted as a “swimming” disaster). But I’d done it—earned my first medal in 18 months! After what felt like a lifetime of injuries and breaks (me, not just the things I tripped over), I was beyond pleased to place 3rd in my age category. (Granted, there might have only been three swimmers in my age group, but I made the conscious decision not to check, just in case that meant I’d also placed last as well as third). Most importantly, though, this experience showed me that despite my enforced break from it, I hadn’t lost my love for open water swimming. Being back out there, feeling every stroke and battling every wave, I truly loved every moment.

And Jonty? Somehow—don’t ask me how—I actually managed to swim past him. He emerged from the water a full three minutes after me to be reunited with his leg, which, as it turned out, had made a safe landing on dry ground after his infamous throw. Now, granted, he did have to put his leg back on, only to take it off again for our second loop. And yes, his Garmin somehow clocked him as swimming an extra 100 meters, but… I’m still calling it a win!

One final thing, thank you for bearing with me through the blog drought and for sticking around to read the few I’ve managed to post. I truly appreciate it! There will be plenty more coming next year. Promise. 

The Great Wetsuit Wrestle

 The Great Wetsuit Wrestle

 

I’ve been kindly invited to swim in an event next week. I accepted. Then immediately panicked at the prospect. For context, it makes me sad to think that I’ve turned down several invites since the IISA world championships in January 2023, having made the decision to ease up on any training, and just swim at a more relaxed, and dare I add, more enjoyable pace. I usually have some swim or other lined up, so this long gap has been unusual for me. 

 

For this next paragraph I should mention that my usual tendency to embellish and dramatise my blogs when it comes to writing about my swimming, will take a break for a second – but shall, rest-assured, continue in full force immediately after. But right now, I’m going to drop the theatrics for a moment for context. The truth is, this gap wasn’t something I had planned, but I’ve been dealing with a horrid neck issue—a retrolisthesis of my C5-6, but thanks to my amazing physiotherapist, a ton of hard work, and her green light, I’ve finally felt capable of swimming a decent distance again. It may not be as far as some of my past escapades, but, it’s progress. And honestly, I’m absolutely thrilled about it! 

Oh, I also broke my elbow (and my favourite sunglasses) in, you'll be surprised to hear, a spectacular and graceless fall when I got my toe caught in my trouser leg, which took longer than I had hoped to heal.

 

Right, back to the blog - 

 

The Swim Buddy, forever having my back, offered to swim with me, before immediately realising the date clashed with her daughter having a baby, and retracted her offer. To make amends, unbeknownst to me, she decided to walk her dog at the venue of the swim and do a little scouting mission at the same time. This was something I was both deeply thankful for and simultaneously terrified of. On one hand, I appreciate her thoroughness, but on the other, I braced myself for the unsettling discoveries I knew, without question, she would come back with. True to form, she left no stone unturned, diving deep into every detail. 

 

Quite unexpectedly, she FaceTimed me while I was at the hairdressers to walk me through her findings. She gave me a live tour of the location and shared all her insights and observations in real-time. My hairdresser, ever accommodating, paused mid-cut so we could both listen in on the lake’s particulars, however, as The Swim Buddy spoke, I could see my hairdresser’s face visibly blanch when she mentioned the likely water temperature, and after only a minute, declared, “I’d never swim there—or anywhere colder than the Mediterranean after it’s been warmed by the blazing August sun, for that matter,” before stepping away for a moment to make us a coffee while I continued my call, remarking that talking about the cold lake had left her feeling a deep chill and a strong craving for something warmer.

 

The Swim Buddy did her best to fully immerse me in the FaceTime tour of the lake, but she was difficult to hear over the wind howling through the microphone (which, if I heard her correctly, was a characteristic feature of the area), and the video was a chaotic blur of the reservoir, the path, her leg, her dog, and a cloud all shaking around as she tried to give me the grand tour. Needless to say, I wasn’t entirely convinced I was getting the full experience, nevertheless, from what I could make out, the key points were:

 

The venue is the largest reservoir managed by Yorkshire Water, boasting a massive capacity of 21,772,000 cubic meters of water and reaching depths of up to 41 meters. In other words, it’s enormous and, as a result, probably incredibly cold— or, to quote verbatim, “looks f**ing cold… and dark”

There’s machinery and strong currents lurking beneath the surface, but she was quick to reassure me that since Yorkshire Water has sanctioned the event (*swimming isn't permitted at the reservoir usually), they’ve “probably” turned off the machinery that creates the heavy currents. Of course, she couldn’t actually see where the machinery was because it was far too dark. So, suggested that whilst I was free to enjoy the swim, I would need to be extra careful not to graze my knees or snag a fingernail on any of the hidden contraptions.

She informed me that the reservoir is generously stocked with brown trout, rainbow trout, pike, and perch, all of which, according to her sources, are “a fairly good size” (which I interpreted as massive). She even noted that the fish she observed leaping from the water looked less like ordinary fish and more like a whale breaching the surface. So, if I did happen to encounter one, I might need to brace myself for some turbulence.

 

She finally added that despite being terribly windy, deep, dark, and cold with hidden machinery and an abundance of huge fish, it was also a fantastic, unique opportunity to swim in a place that’s typically off-limits. The chance to experience such a distinctive and rarely accessible venue would make it a memorable, exhilarating swim (fingers crossed it's the kind of experience to look back on with a sense of fulfilment, instead of the kind that ends up as a headline news story for all the wrong reasons…).

 

With the event just around the corner, I thought it wise to squeeze in at least one practice swim in my wetsuit, especially since it’s required for the event. To be honest, I was less concerned about any chafing issues I might have, and more because I had massive concerns about whether it would still fit me without requiring a shoehorn to get me in. It’s been 4 years since I last swum in it, and it was tight then… I wasn’t entirely sure if it would still cooperate or if I’d end up battling to get on a suit that had somehow ‘mysteriously shrunk’ since I had it on last. 

The thought of navigating this potential (who am I kidding?) wardrobe challenge was unnerving. Fortunately, The Swim Buddy knew I would have some issues with getting the damn thing on, and came good again by generously offering to help me out and agreeing to join me for a test swim that I hoped to help iron out the struggle I knew it was going to be, and, meant I’d at least have a someone to share the awkwardness of rediscovering how to get into a wetsuit that may or may not still fit.

From the moment I started wrestling the wetsuit over my ankles, it was clear this wasn’t going to go smoothly. I was determined to push through, knowing that The Swim Buddy wouldn’t be around with a shoehorn or a pair of cuff-cutting scissors if I found myself struggling to get the wetsuit on. The Swim Buddy joked that it was already looking like an attempt to squeeze me into a sausage casing as I struggled with a particularly stubborn and uncooperative wetsuit. It resisted every effort to fit, and I soon found myself contorting into positions I hadn’t tried in the last four years—and, as it turned out, didn’t have the flexibility for anymore.

A little longer than a few minutes later I was finally in. The effort involved was nothing short of a full-body workout. There was a lot of hopping, tugging, and twisting as I attempted to wrangle the neoprene into place. The Swim Buddy had to stifle her laughter as I practically somersaulted into it. By the time I was fully zipped up, I was already out of breath, and we hadn’t even hit the water yet. It was a victory, but not without its battle scars—mainly to my pride.

I hadn’t exactly been looking forward to swimming in the wetsuit, dreading the experience from the start. But, to my surprise, it wasn’t nearly as awful as I’d imagined. Once I got going, I actually felt like I was gliding through the water, making impressive progress. However, my swim watch had a different perspective. Despite my feeling of soaring through the water at great speed, the watch didn’t record it that way. Instead, it stubbornly insisted on displaying times that suggested I was in fact not moving with the powerful glide I thought I was. 

Of course, we were halfway through our swim, at the absolute furthest point from our clothes, when I suddenly felt the familiar, irritating rub of my wetsuit on my neck. Naturally, the problem decided to strike just when we were the most inconveniently far from our kit bags. It was painfully clear that I was paying the price for my oversight: forgetting to slather on the Vaseline. It was a harsh, unwelcome reminder of how crucial it is to apply some kind of chafing remedy before swimming—because nothing says "memorable swim" quite like an uncomfortable neck rub.

We tentatively made our way back to the shoreline, and as soon as I peeled myself out of my wetsuit, I let out a deep sigh of relief—okay, more a dramatic exhalation than a deep sigh. There I was, finally free, and reminded just how much I’d rather not deal with neoprene at all, however, despite the struggle to get it on and the neck issue, it wasn't as disastrous as I’d dreaded. The suit had its moments of discomfort, but in the end, it wasn’t quite the horror show I’d imagined. It turns out that, even with the few hiccups, I might just survive this wetsuit ordeal after all.

With the training swim done and dusted, and the event just a few days away, I took a moment to consider what I needed to ensure that I fully enjoy the swim, and I also that I didn’t suffer afterwards. The Swim Buddy, ever helpful, did nothing for my ego when she reminded me of the challenge that lay ahead in getting into the wetsuit, and casually suggested that, given the struggle it had been, and because I knew there was no way to magically shrink myself to fit into the wetsuit without a time machine, I might want to consider setting my alarm for dawn if I hoped to be suited up in time for the race (3pm). As if my bruised pride needed another reminder of how tight that neoprene had become, her suggestion was a stark confirmation that getting it on would be just as difficult for the swim.

Next, prior to the swim I would need a visit to the chemist, where I planned to stock up on Vaseline, hoping it would prevent a repeat of the neck-chafing catastrophe, and given the soreness from all the ridiculous positions I’d put myself in, I planned to stock up on Radox whilst I was there, and finally, investing in a foam roller seemed only prudent. Given the potential injuries from wrangling my way into and out of the wetsuit, a foam roller would be a crucial ally. I’d need every bit of help I could get to return to some semblance of normalcy after that swim—if not just to soothe the aches and pains from my valiant efforts with the wetsuit.

 

Wish me luck—because I’m definitely going to need it. Between the wrestling battle with my wetsuit, nursing my bruised ego, and the gymnastics required just to squeeze into the thing, this swim is already gearing up to be yet another overly dramatic saga. I’m just hoping I come out with fewer neoprene burns (mental note: don’t forget the Vaseline!) and maybe, just maybe, although highly unlikely, if I am lucky, my dignity still intact!

 

*It's important to point out that usually you can’t you swim in this reservoir. Yorkshire Water state: ‘…has lots of hidden dangers. The water is very cold (even in summer) and cold water shock can kill. Reservoir supplies water to be treated, so there's machinery and strong currents under the water. There may also be blue-green algae, which causes rashes and severe illnesses.

 

One final thing, thank you so much for taking the time to read this blog! Your support means the world to me. If you enjoyed the content and want to stay connected, please follow me on Instagram @openwaterwoman for more updates, insights, and *behind-the-scenes moments. Your continued engagement and encouragement inspire me to keep sharing.

*when I say "behind-the-scenes" what I mean is me trying to take a selfie next to the selfie Queen Claire without looking like a total amateur!

 

 

NEW BLOG...

 

COMING SOON...

 

 

COLD WATER ACCLIMATISATION

My outdoor swimming experiences have been rather limited lately. My "swims" have amounted to nothing more than brief plunges in a friend's pool, and actually, those dips were more like prolonged standing sessions. The last time I truly ventured into open water was a casual dip in the Adriatic Sea back in October, and I won’t pretend I was battling icy waters because I wasn’t…

Let me elaborate on my hiatus – it's been a 16-month long saga with a persistent (and until last month), undiagnosed neck issue which is finally (FINALLY!!!) sorted! And as if that weren't enough drama, in an epic display of uncoordinatedness, I took an overly theatrical tumble involving my own leg and my platform Converse, which resulted in an elbow fracture. I could have swum sooner, but, I had no idea how long it takes all the ligaments and tendons around the break take to heal (ages, in case you were wondering). There's also been this nagging feeling of responsibility, knowing that despite SwimYourSwim's stellar safety team, taking a dip meant I could potentially have put others at risk should I need rescuing.

And so, back to now, and I’m ready to get back in. I know that I’ll be unable to pick up where I left off, it would be unsafe to think otherwise, and to ensure I avoid cold water shock, incapacitation and hypothermia, I know I should acclimatise myself to the colder temperatures through gradual exposure. So, I thought before I get back in, I’d start with refreshing my knowledge on acclimatisation – understanding what it is, why it's important, and how it affects my body, and I wanted to share my findings with you.

SO… to get started. Acclimatisation refers to the advantageous physiological adjustments that occur with repeated exposure to either hot or cold environments. And the reason we should acclimatise is that it lessens the cold shock's impact. It’s important to also add that acclimatisation doesn't shield you from incapacitation, swimming failure, or hypothermia. For me the Gatorade Sports Science Institute has broken it down into easily understandable language (and has some interesting research findings. I’ve added the link at the bottom), saying that it’s the biological adaptations that happen when you acclimatise that will reduce the physiological strain, such as heart rate and body temperature, improve comfort, enhance exercise capacity, and decrease the risks of serious cold-related illnesses during exposure to (in this case) cold stress. 

And the great thing is that Mike Tipton, a Professor of Human & Applied Physiology at the Extreme Environments Laboratory in the School of Sport, Health & Exercise Science at the University of Portsmouth, with over three decades of expertise in thermoregulation, environmental physiology, and survival at sea, and a staggering 400+ publications in these fields, (so he's a pretty significant figure), says that it can take as few as six, three-minute immersions in cold water can reduce your cold shock response by as much as 50% - which is like music to my ears!!!

It is important to point out that he further emphasises that the process is more intricate than a simple equation. While your body can adjust to cold conditions through repeated outdoor swims, whether this adaptation proves beneficial hinges on the body's reactions to adverse stimuli.

He further explains that there are three physiological responses linked with entering cold water that present potential risks. Firstly, the cold shock response which manifests as uncontrollable gasping, rapid breathing, and increased heart rate for approximately 90 seconds upon immersion. Secondly, the cooling of nerves and muscles near the body's surface, notably in the limbs, can lead to incapacitation and hinder exercise when cooled significantly. Lastly, hypothermia occurs when the deep body temperature drops below 35°C, typically taking at least 30 minutes to develop in an adult exposed to cold water, and each of these responses undergoes varying degrees of adaptation with repeated exposure to cold water, and each of these responses adjusts differently with repeated exposure to cold water.

So, how do we go about acclimatising?

Dr Heather Massey a swimmer and a researcher at the Extreme Environments Laboratory at the University of Portsmouth says: ‘The secret to acclimatising to cold water is just to swim in it, often – at least once a week, and preferably two or three, gradually extending the time that you stay in the water,’ she advises though to, ‘get out if you are not comfortable, and don’t set time goals for staying in the water.’

Leon Fryer, owner of SwimYourSwim, and widely recognized as a foremost authority on cold water and ice swimming, having overseen the highest number of successful official ice miles globally (currently at 124) when asked the best way to acclimatise, echoes Dr Massey’s advice saying: “Gradually. Just keep swimming. Start in the summer and work your way down (in temperature) nice and gradually…”

And that’s what I fully intend to do. There’s no doubt that there will be some pretty uncomfortable moments to start off with, it’s not my first rodeo, I already have good idea of how this will go and how my body will respond, and so to help make it as pleasanter experience as possible, I have also roped in a few swim friends to yell encouraging and motivational words at me from the lake side (this will also serve to drown out the awful swear words that will come out of my mouth). I’ve given the heads up (hinted massively – which is the same thing really) to the Swim Buddy that her home-made lemon drizzle cake will most definitely work wonders as part of my post swim recovery, and bought myself a new costume, which will be of no practical help whatsoever, but I think well delinitely help to motivate me - 100%. It was also in the sale and I liked the pattern… so there's also that... I really cannot wait!

Before I go, I feel it's important to issue a brief, but really important, caution. Whilst there are many reported benefits to cold water swimming, as I’ve just touched on, cold water swimming carries notable risks, with cold shock being the most dangerous reaction. Please prioritise your safety by researching its potential dangers, and if you’re uncertain, seek medical advice before swimming. I’m not an expert, and am only touching on acclimatisation in this blog, so, I’ve added the details of a paper in the British Journal of Sports Medicine, offering strategies to mitigate potential risks linked to cold water immersion written by Mike Tipton and his colleagues for your reference, along with some other relevant sites to visit. 

Thanks for checking this out! I hope you found it, along with the links I've included at the bottom, informative, helpful, and actionable. 

Don't forget to give me a follow on Instagram and TikTok (yep, I've caved in), where I'll be sharing updates regularly!

 Reference:

The information covered here by Professor Mike Tipton (2022) is available to read here: https://www.port.ac.uk/news-events-and-blogs/blogs/health-and-wellbeing/cold-water-swimming-what-you-can-do-to-acclimatise-to-the-temperature

 

Gatorade Sports Science Institute website: https://www.gssiweb.org/sports-science-exchange/article/sse-153-heat-acclimatization-to-improve-athletic-performance-in-warm-hot-environments). 

 

Dr Heather Massey for OSS article HOW TO ACCLIMATISE. The science and practise of adapting to cold water at: https://www.outdoorswimmingsociety.com/how-to-acclimatise-to-cold-water/

SwimChatSnack full interview with Leon Fryer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbB1LAYCXbA

For advice and guidance on minimising the risk: Mike Tipton et al, Cold water therapies: minimising risks, British Journal of Sports Medicine (2022). DOI: 10.1136/bjsports-2022-105953

From Injury to Immersion: Navigating the Cold Comeback in Open Waters

 

                                               

I’ve really done very little swimming (indoors or out) since the end of August. Just to clarify, my swimming hiatus wasn’t due to laziness but rather the aftermath of a “spectacular” encounter with gravity, which resulted in a pavement head-butt, a grazed knee, a broken elbow, a very shiny eye socket, and the tragic demise of a beloved pair of sunglasses (I’m truly devastated), and whilst I healed really well, it was at an infuriatingly sluggish pace for my liking. Despite being able to dip back into the water after three weeks (and I use the term "swim" quite loosely here), I erred on the side of caution by confining myself to the pool. The lack of confidence in venturing into open water lingered, and I had no intention of jeopardizing my safety or that of anyone in my vicinity.

And so, today was the chosen day for my grand return. I finally felt ready to get back in. Fate seemed to grace the occasion with a torrential downpour of biblical proportions, and I could have cancelled, waited it out for a cold, crisp, sunny day, but the allure of cake at the swim was not just any cake—it was the coveted birthday cake (and please, no prying inquiries about age). Given that it was in my honour, it seemed egregiously impolite to be a no-show, especially when Jonty had gone the extra mile of making a trip to Marks and Spencer to fetch a Colin the Caterpillar cake for me. Honestly, in all likelihood, I would have maneuvered my way through a hurricane just to indulge in a (large) slice. 

 

After faffing for a substantial period, exchanged pleasantries with my swim clan for an unusually prolonged amount of time, and receiving a gentle nudge from Leon that I was, in fact, there to swim, I eventually mustered the motivation to get my act together and got ready to get in, which turned out to not be as seamless as it should have been. Who knew that attempting to get into my swimming costume out of the boot of my car while maintaining a semblance of dryness, could prove to be a more of a formidable task than I expected? I’ll just sum it up: my hot water bottle and a lone wool sock took an impromptu dip in a puddle, while both gloves and my hairbrush somehow, and it’s still a mystery to me, fell onto the muddy grass verge. 

 

Once suited and yes, booted, I waded in. As I did, the safety crew shared a warning/dropped the bombshell about an unusual number of weeds at the entry point, and to be careful. This news was very unwelcome, as I had only planned a very short dip not too far from the shoreline whilst I reintroduced myself to the open water. 

 

I’ll be honest, an entanglement with A LOT of aquatic flora was not the welcome back I was hoping for, but after a short deliberation, and Jonty threatening to eat all the cake if I didn’t get in, I decided to be brave and swim through them. Sadly, their reach extended far beyond my initial estimation, resulting in a reenactment of Day of the Triffids. I valiantly 'wrestled' with them, but I began feeling a bit panicky, and in my typical overly theatrical manner of course (to create the illusion of greater bravery than I actually possessed, of course...). Anyway, the long and short of it was that I, in what I deemed a display of unparalleled bravery, flapped my arms around in some kind of unrecognisable stroke amongst the aquatic flora. I kept up this spectacle for a whopping 2 minutes and 58 seconds—at 6.7oc before deciding that was enough time to question both my sanity and my understanding of what constituted a reasonable ‘swim’ for my first time back. Deciding I had showcased my bravery quota for the day, I gracelessly waded back to the welcoming embrace of dry land to don whatever bits of clothing had miraculously stayed dry. 

Once out and back in the cafe Jonty arrived with Colin, and given that it was my birthday, I naturally claimed the majority share of the cake. I could have easily laid sole ownership to the entire thing, but when someone puts in the effort to buy you a cake and delivers a rather unique and, let's say, interesting version of "Happy Birthday" it's deemed, at least by societal standards (not necessarily my own), the pinnacle of bad manners not to graciously share a modest slice. If only to quiet them down, of course…(I should add, before anyone thinks to lynch me, that I was warned by Jonty beforehand that it would be truly awful…), 

And so, my grand return, and ...in the midst of what I labelled some pretty "dangerous and treacherous" conditions (read: a bit too weed infested for my liking), three minutes, albeit shorter than my ideal swim duration, felt just lovely. Contrary to my expectations, there was no anticipated icy chill, or very many sweary moments and, the bit I’m most proud of, I successfully navigated through what could have been a disastrous entanglement ordeal with *minimal fuss (let's be honest, there was a fair bit of fuss). 

It's been a minute since I wrote my last blog, and so I'd like to say a massive thanks for returning, and also, brace yourself for more to come soon...

Hypothermia: What I needed to know before I began swimming in cold water.

The water at the beginning of the season seemed to take an age to warm up, yet now it's nearing the end it feels like it's taken a bit of a nose dive! Not to be deterred I make the (feels like) bold decision to ditch the wetsuit and try swimming in skins. The last time I swam sans wetsuit was over a month ago, when the water was warm, the sky was blue, flowers were in bloom ...  This time, although the water wasn't so cold at 17.3oc, when you're not accustomed or acclimatised to it, it's frankly a bit of a shock when you get in.

I stood on the side of the lake as Shark vocalised many excuses and reasons why she should swim in her wetsuit instead. I reaslised she wasn't being serious when they ranged from tooth damage from shivering to the possibility of it giving her trench foot. I diagnosed a case of acute hypochondria and told her to get on with it.

In our inexperience we entered the water with extreme caution, and closely followed all the instructions from Leon, who was standing on the side. He told us we would be fine by the time we got to the first orange buoy, and he was right. I was expecting at best to have ice cream head, and at worst I'd have the shortest swim in history, however was delighted when neither happened.

We swam for 800 metres before Shark began to feel the cold and wisely decided to call it a day. I wanted to complete a mile if possible and after a quick recce (can still I feel my toes? Yes. Are my hands clawing? No.), I decided I'd be okay to carry on. I'd really enjoyed it, and wasn't feeling the cold, so I carried on. I felt great, and when I got out Shark was waiting, holding my towel and Swimzi ready to put straight on (she's a great swim bud), so I could get dried and warm quickly. I dressed, but as I said before I wasn't feeling cold. This is most likely because I had actually spent the second lap trying desperately hard to keep up with another swimmer (in a wetsuit) who at first sight appeared to be going relatively slowly, but in reality he was actually very, very fast, making keeping up impossible, however all the extra effort meant that I concentrated less on feeling the cold and more on the (fruitless) chase, and so by the time I got out I was exhausted and practically hyperventilating, but not cold.

Shark and I had decided to try and swim once a week without wetsuits for as long as we could tolerate the cold. Swimming in cold water is very much unchartered territory. I realised after our swim that I had not really much idea of how my body would respond to the cold, and actually when I should get out. Just checking if my feet and hands were cold or not wasn't at all thorough enough and so I was wanted to find out more about how it will affect me, and Shark, in particular with regards to hypothermia. Shark is the nurse, not me and if I presented the symptoms of hypothermia I'm confident I'd be well looked after, whereas Shark wouldn't be. I think it would bad form to have replace my swim buddy due to neglect, and I'm not entirely sure I'd have many takers if I'm belong honest!

I read loads, and want to share with you what I've found/discovered/learnt. Whilst I usually attempt to make anything I write a bit light hearted, and can pretty much find something (usually me) to poke fun at, when I began looking in more detail about hypothermia it's just too serious, dangerous and important topic to be jovial about. And so...

The next part in this blog has been taken from various websites and people I know. I'm aware that there are various differences of opinion, and some of which some of you will agree and disagree (as some of the websites did) in parts. I'm not an expert, but would like to share what I've found in the hopes that at least one person, other than myself, is better informed, can recognise the symptoms and get medical help and treatment as quickly as possible if necessary. The information I've included is found in the websites, and folks that I know that know far more about it than I do. I've added at the bottom (and not in any particular order - my university professors would not be happy) if anyone wants to read more broadly.

"Hypothermia is a dangerous drop in body temperature below 35C (95F)." www.nhs.uk

"Hypothermia is a medical emergency that occurs when your body loses heat fadster than it can produce heat, causing a dangerously low body temperature... when your body temperature drops, your heart, nervous system and other organs can't work normally." (Mayoclinic.org, 2018).

Although most hypothermia happens in low temperatures I have read that even temperatures as mild as 26oc can still be dangerous, and hypothermia is still a possibility, and whilst the colder the water, the quicker and the more likely you are to suffer (there can be other factors involved), there is no time frame for when hypothermia will set in. None of us are immune, and that includes the most seasoned and adapted of swimmers.

Our bodies work best within a certain temperature range, and it's important to maintain this in order to function properly. Many essential chemical reactions that happen in our body can only happen in this range, so when it alters, our body immediately triggers changes to return it back. This is the function of the hypothalamus, which is found in the brain. It collects all the internal and external information (in this instance temperature) and puts changes in place to right the imbalances, to return the body to its status in quo.

When you are swimming in water colder than you, in order to protect your vital organs, your body begins a process. Blood vessels shunt (moving blood to where it's needed) the warm blood away from your skin and limbs towards your vital organs by reducing the blood flow to your extremities. This allows more oxygen to be delivered where it's needed the most. This is to preserve heat in the important bits. Your body is working hard to try and keep your core at its normal temperature. This process is called peripheral vasoconstriction. It's the body's way of protecting against hypothermia.

"Peripheral vasoconstriction basically means the narrowing of your blood vessels that supply your extremities. This means that your blood vessels in the periphery have constricted and hence bring in less blood so that whatever blood is there in the body is diverted to your vital organs"  

Dheeksha (studies at Mysore medical College and Research Institute (2020)) 

This process stops when you get out of the cold water and your body then sends the warm blood from the core back to the skin to warm up again. The problem though is that it also cools the blood as it does so, as it's now mixing the warm blood with the cooler blood, and then recirculates the cool blood back to the core, meaning that your temperature will drop further. This is known as the "after-drop." This doesn't happen immediately, and when you exit the water you'll probably feel great for a short time. This is because your cooler blood hasn't reached your core straight away, however within a short space of time, you will begin shivering (great piece of advice was to get dressed quickly after getting out, as it's really difficult when you're shivering).

Shivering is one of our body's immediate reactions to generate heat. Our skin sends messages to the brain, which then sets off a series of warming tricks. Shivering is one of them. It's your muscles contracting and expanding quickly to produce heat to raise your body temperature.

As symptoms of hypothermia can happen slowly, you would think that would give you time to get out in good time, however you may not be aware of them as hypothermia can affect, amongst other things, your cognitive ability; your ability to think clearly, and make intelligent choices, which means you may not even recognise the symptoms. Your brain is so sensitive to cold, and electrical activity slows down in response to it, so your ability to do things and move lessens, making it more difficult to take action. I've included a list of the symptoms of hypothermia, that are listed on several websites below, for your reference:

Symptoms of mild hypothermia include:

• Dizziness
• Shivering
• Hunger and nausea
• Increased breathing
• Difficulty speaking
• Lack of coordination
• Tiredness
• Increase in heart rate
• Poor judgement
• Cold, pale skin
• Numb hands and feet

Symptoms of moderate to severe hypothermia include:

• Shivering, but importantly, as hypothermia worsens, shivering stops
• Worsening coordination difficulties
• Slurred speech
• Significant confusion
• Drowsiness
• Apathy or lack of concern (doesn't recognise that they are in any danger)
• Weak pulse
• Shallow, slow breathing
• Paradox undressing - the person removes their clothes innapropriately despite the cold because they feel warm
• Muscles become stiff
• Slow pulse
• Confusion
• Loss of consciousness

Symptoms of severe hypothermia include:

• Shivering stops
• Extreme confusion
• A decline in consciousness
• Weak or irregular pulse
• slow/shallow breathing
• coma - can result in death 

Hypothermia will advance quicker in the cold water, and so it's important to get out as soon as possible to prevent further heat loss, get yourself warm, and if necessary, seek medical help. 

When you exit the cold water Outdoor Swimmer magazine recommends the following: 

• Get dressed quickly and warmly. Immediately after swimming you may feel great as the cooled blood has not yet returned to your core. Best to wrap up warmly before it does. It’s much harder to dress when you’re shivering. 
• Don’t take a hot shower as this will increase the rate at which cooled blood returns to the core and makes the drop faster and deeper. Cold water swimmers have been known to faint in hot showers. Wait until you’ve warmed up again before showering.
• Don’t attempt to drive or ride a bike until your core temperature has recovered. Driving and shivering is not a good combination. If your core temperature drops too much and you become hypothermic it can also affect your cognitive abilities. Again, not good for driving.
• Drink something hot and eat something. Shivering is a highly energy consumptive bodily function. You need to fuel it.
• Keep an eye on your fellow swimmers. Someone who appears completely fine getting out of the water may be in trouble 10 minutes later and may need your help.
• Get out of the water before you get too cold as you will continue to get colder after swimming – give your body a margin of safety.

In addition, here are Jonathan Cowie, Editor at Outdoor Swimmer's six tips for cold water swimming….

1. Acclimatise

As the temperature drops in autumn, just keep swimming and your body will get used to the cold.

2. Be safe

Open water can be dangerous. Only ever swim where it is safe, and make sure you can enter and exit the water quickly and easily. Never swim on your own.

3. Wear the right kit

Wear a swimming hat, or two, to help preserve body heat. You can also wear neoprene gloves, booties, balaclava or a wetsuit.

4. No diving

Do not dive or jump in unless you are used to the cold water. Cold water can cause gasping of breath and cold water shock, which can be dangerous.

5. Know your limits

As the temperature drops, decrease the amount of time you spend in the water.

6. Warm up slowly

Don’t have a hot shower as rapid warming of the skin may increase the flow of cold blood from your extremities to your core, and can be dangerous. Instead, make sure you have plenty of warm clothes, wrap up well and have a hot drink.

Swim bud left, me to the right after our swim

So this week the water temperature had dropped almost a full degree to 16.5oc, and I realise with sadness that all hope for an Indian Summer had now completely gone. Shark and I arrived lakeside and readied ourselves for the swim. We were organised and unpacked our clothes and towels in advance of getting out. Shark told me that in addition to her clothes she had also brought a flask of hot Ribena, her ski socks and an extra hat. What she didn't tell me is that she had also brought a hot water bottle, and had wrapped all her clothes around it! A little OTT? Actually possibly not. We swam a mile and at the end when we got out I realised that we are very different, and it seemed that I was able to tolerate the cold a little better than Shark (I put it down to being a farmers daughter - kind of makes you more hardy I suppose). What is clear is that we need to adapt our bodies to tolerate the cold water better (acclimatisation) so that our bodies will grow used to it as the water gets colder still (I'll write more on this in another blog), but in the mean time, I don't mind admitting that I really did feel envious of Shark's forward thinking as I put on my 'at room temperature' clothes, and fully intend to purchase a bottle in advance of next week's swim. What could be better? Other than perhaps someone serving hot chocolate fudge cake on the lake side as we got out... (for medicinal purposes).

Just a quick note, this blog was written in 2018.

Thanks for reading. I also have a "group" on Facebook. It's not really a group, as it's only me, but on it I post more regularly.  I'm also on Twitter and Instagram. You'd be very welcome. 😊

Bibliography and special thanks to:

Leon @Swimyourswim and Chris@Swimzi for you invaluable knowledge.
Jonathan Cowie @outdoorswimmer for your guidance and help.

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