transcendent swimming around the world 🌎
can the cold water fix me?
Growing up, summertime was for swim team and long days at the pool. Then there were those precious Saturdays we would leave for the beach after swim meets, the car packed to the gills with groceries, luggage, diaper bags, and entertainment for the 2-hour drive. As soon as we got there I would run to the ocean and put my feet in the water.
I have always felt a connection to water, but in adulthood, I lost the title of “swimmer” in an athletic sense and reserved swimming for vacations. Then I read
’s piece on swimming as a hobby, and I realized I could call this a hobby too:I liked the pre-swim chat, the getting changed, the locker rooms. I liked the fact I could buy a new swimming costume to make it all feel more special. I like that it benefited no-one (but me). I liked that it forced me away from my desk. I liked that I put my phone in my locker and no-one could reach me. I liked that you could make new friends through it— it’s an activity. I liked the child-like quality of it, eating an apple and packet of crisps in a café afterwards.
I agree it’s fun, but my relationship to water carries deeper meaning. It is more than a moment to disconnect from technology or meet up with friends. I don’t like it as much as I need it. I need to connect with nature, to challenge my mind, and to feel brave. My love for cold swimming is spiritual.
Water and bathing have always had religious affiliations. In Christianity, a baptism involves immersion into water, to be “born again” as a follower of Jesus. Hindus believe bathing in the Ganges forgives transgressions. Muslims perform ghusl as a purification ritual before prayer. Even though I do not follow any organized religion, I do feel that when I’m swimming I’m not Brenna, a human, but a small part of the bigger world out there. I feel wildly alive as a participant in nature’s creation.
Like religion, swimming also helps me when I’m troubled. I don’t like the way I look all the time. I wish I had my life more “figured out”. My body doesn’t always do the things it is supposed to do. Plus, I suffer from anxiety and overthinking. When I’m in the midst of some of these icky, sticky feelings that come with being a human, they remind me it’s time for a swim.
The irony is swimming lets me forget about the discomfort of being alive. I’m not a wife, a remote worker, or an Italian student. I am not thinking about what comes next, or if I had a spelling mistake on my Substack post, or if I really should have eaten that extra croissant. I follow one, simple, decisive tenet: I’m going in.
Even before I step in, the adrenaline starts to hit and my heart starts to race. I feel panicky. Where is the escape route? As I begin the submersion process, my toes start convincing my knees that it’s too cold, and I have to fight back against each limb, each inch of skin. “Quiet down, it’s not that cold”, I tell myself, as I dip in deeper and deeper. The cold water envelops my body like a coat of frozen paint.
I am seized, it’s all I can think about - I have to breathe and surrender. Many times my panic mode gets in the way. My brain says - get out, get out, get out - and I obey. When that happens, I try to give myself a loving hug and appreciate the ways I try to keep myself safe.
To withstand the temperatures requires deeper transcendence. You have to trust that your breath will reach a steady state. That you will not swallow water. Often times I can’t reach relaxation when the waves are pummeling me or I’m in the deep ocean, panicking and looking at the shore.
Other times, when I can stand up, or I know my exit plan, I can focus on concentrating. I take deep breaths, easily calming the alarm bells going off in my body. If I can achieve this, something shifts, a key turns, and I unlock total surrender. My body says, “I’m OK” and that’s when I can stay in forever. I observe the trees, the blowing of the wind, waves sloshing against the rocks, the sun behind the clouds.
When it’s time to crawl out, I feel way better than any self-assured Baywatch Barbie, I feel Herculean. My body is a walking, floating, miracle. It vibrates higher. It feels all at once symbiotic with the natural world and also above it. My body says, “Hello world, I’m here, and I’m not backing down”. My mind is at ease and my thoughts are clear. I have the opportunity to start over, once again.
My top 5 wild swimming experiences
Coldest Dip Award: Helsinki, Finland
Snow in the air, glaciers in the sea: I never thought I could dip in these frigid waters! But I did it.
Community Swim Award: San Diego, California
I made a little club called the OB Moon dippers. I was scared to dip alone, so I begged my friends to come with me. What a difference dipping with a group makes! (Also note, for safety purposes, you should never swim in cold water alone). The group energy after we came out of the water was amazing.
Solo Spirtual Dip Award: Downeast, Maine
Shortly after this photo was taken, I went for a little dip à poil. There was not a soul in sight. It was just me, the pine trees, and the sea. If you have ever swam in Maine, you know that “the sea” is different up there.
Dunking for My Ancestors Award: Dingle Peninsula, Ireland
Many of my ancestors are from Ireland. I had to honor them by cold dipping in the sea. This was one of the ones that took my breath away and scared me silly. I’ll have to return.
Saltiest Swim Award: Amalfi Coast, Italy
It’s so salty in Amalfi, you barely need to know how to swim! Not to mention gorgeous views and hues of blue.
Wild swimming inspiration:
My Big White Thighs & Me - A beautiful documentary about the power of the female body. I was sobbing big fat tears and feeling so inspired by the filmmaker, Hannah. The smiles on their faces when they are swimming! “Life has its ups and downs. But we can find hope in the smallest of things, even if that’s the feeling of cold water against your skin”. -Hannah Maia
The Euphoria of Cold Water Immersion - I love this beautiful story of new friendships forming through grief, loss, pandemics, and age.
If anyone wants to sponsor my trip to this transformative water retreat, I’ll take it!
My greatest swims in oceans were: the island of La Digue in the Seychelles (felt like I was swimming in heaven, the surrounding beauty and crystal-clear water was so intense. The other swims I love are/is the La Jolla Cove in the US (San Diego), and Butterfly Beach in Montecito, CA, two more too beautiful places to describe.
Last by not least, I great up in Western PA. This pool recently close, but they used the mountain water and some other methods I never did fully understand, to create the. best. heat. relief. for a humid PA summer day in a GIANT pool. Sadly it is now closed, but here's an old photo.
https://www.thirdstopontheright.com/ligonier-beach-pool/
Swim on, be safe!
This is a beautiful piece, Brenna!
I remember seeing a woman dip when it was 35 degrees out in Copenhagen and I thought “there’s no way!” But reading this is inspiring me to look at the concept anew. Also, it seems a cold dip in the ocean versus a cold plunge tub carry very different connotations—the ocean feels so much purer.
My parents’ coastal town where they reside does a new year’s ocean dip which I’ve thought sounded intriguing... a ways away but maybe this is the year!