As I swam out one midsummer morning
“Post-pandemic, I had resolved to say “yes” to opportunities. Next step: borrow a wetsuit.”
This plunge pool near the source of the River Thames in Gloucestershire is deeper than it looks… and very very cold!
Since mastering the art of staying afloat at the age of six, I have described myself as a water person. So, when an email arrived from Dialect Writers offering solstice swim-write workshop, I was tempted. However, if I’m considering open-water swimming, it’s the lapping waves of Mediterranean or a freshwater Mexican cenote, that appeals. I’m not attracted to cold English water, let alone the mighty River Thames. It took several invites for me to respond in the positive. Post-pandemic, I had resolved to say “yes” to opportunities. Next step: borrow a wetsuit.
The pre-reading arrived. An eclectic collection of fact and fiction, poetry and pictures, plus a range of Thames-related music, too. My mind swam with ideas and images, and I investigated a few deep dives of my own. As a writer of non-fiction, I feel a little prosaic amongst the poets and story writers I encounter on creative writing workshops. But the scope of the reading freed me up to write as myself, whilst giving me permission to play.
The heavy rains of this so-called summer resulted in fast flows and strong currents in the River Thames. Consequently, it was too dangerous for us to undertake our swim. Considering that I had spent the preceding few days conjuring up imaginary illnesses to avoid the challenge, I was surprisingly crestfallen.
A new plan emerged: we would swim in a pool near Kemble, close to the source of the Thames. An extra 30 minutes in bed, was my first thought!
There was a palpable sense of excitement amongst the small group gathered beside the road, lit by the weak apricot glow of a disappointing dawn. Moments later, we were bathed in tree-light beside the pristine pool of agate and jade and citrine water. It was magical. Before disrobing, we shared the elimination poems we’d written, prompted by the online workshop held the previous day. Read aloud in this setting, they adopted a prayer-like quality.
The stream that becomes the Thames owes its origin to the springs that emerge through the Cotswold limestone at around 10*C. Even in the wetsuit, the water temperature was shocking - but weirdly exhilarating. Following the submerging yelp, we were quiet as we swum meditatively to the playlist of the wrens and the chiff chaffs. My fear of cold water washed away, I felt strong and courageous parting the boreal water with my exposed forearms. But before long, these rapidly numbing arms, sung in protest, allowing for little contemplative thought. Others left the pool; it was a relief not to be the first.
Our surprise summer solstice swim near the source of the Thames. Video: Rebecca Ward.
It’s now two weeks since that solstice swim, and thoughts about the pool, about rivers and water, Celts and Saxons, baptism and purity have continued in the whirlpool of my mind. More ideas sprang from the follow-up workshop with its writing prompts and discussion. We were able to share and critique the work inspired by our dip: a mix of poems, prose and a mesmeric video. All sublime. My own contribution was a fantasy flash, written by the Celtic goddess of the river, Tamesis - whoever knew I had it in me.
Following a career as a cookery writer/editor, Deborah Gray graduated with MA in Travel and Nature Writing from Bath Spa University during lockdown. She was longlisted for the Bradt New Travel Writer of the Year Award 2020, and has had features published in magazines including Good Housekeeping, Psychologies and most recently, Cotswold Life.
You can follow Deborah on Twitter @wordswork Check out her website here: www.deborahgray.co.uk
