© Julia Welstead

Wild swimming =  pure elemental freedom, cool free-spirited joy, holistic energising meditation.

When I decided to move back to the Hebrides a couple of years ago, I knew I was going to really miss my early morning swim sessions at a gym with an outdoor pool that I had joined for more money than I could afford. I knew there wasn’t a swimming pool on Tiree, and that was a worry especially because I had been using swimming as a recovery exercise after a horse riding accident left me with a broken spine – very lucky to be walking, but still pretty crooked.

It’s funny now to think how blinkered I remained during that first winter. The island is surrounded by water, for goodness sake. But I’d only be able to dash in for a quick freeze-yelping dip, surely, not actually swim lengths? I bought a wetsuit and stared at it balefully every time I brushed past it in the hall…..scared I wouldn’t be able to squeeze into it.

Tiree tends to leap into Summer, dispensing with Spring as rapidly as possible in an urgency to procreate, grow and blossom before winter engulfs once more. From dark winter storms we are suddenly blinded by long days of sunlight, washed by warm rains, energised by fresh breezes. Within April and May, wintering geese gather and leave, passage birds flit through, skylarks herald the day and lapwings flip and flop their dramatic arial breeding display. Grasslands green up overnight, marsh marigolds glint their gold and the green shoots of yellow flag (Narcissus) bolt up from ditches. From winter woollies to shorts and tee-shirt (and back again) within a day is not uncommon in this northern maritime idyll.

And the sea! From menacing lumpy grey to mesmerising azure in the blink of an eye. By May the sun is hot and I’m bypassing the as yet unused wetsuit, jumping straight into my swimsuit, running over pale gold shell sand and plunging in.

“Phhheeeeuuuuwwww” – it may look glorious, but Scottish water is coooooold. By June I’m managing ten or fifteen minutes in the drink, but it’s not really swimming, it’s a plunge.

July, August, September: the busy summer months for those of us who work on this much visited island, and swimming is forgotten. October storms brew, darkness enfolds, it’s a time for the fireside, to knit, bake, ceilidh, write and hibernate.

Perhaps it was a New Year resolution, I’m not sure, but I awoke on 1st January 2019 with a mission to swim. As serendipitous things go, I was told about the Tiree Polar Bears that very day and by the weekend I finally cut the sales tag off my dusty wetsuit, struggled into it and drove to Crossapol Beach to meet Louise and her sister Megan – the founders and seemingly only January participants of our swim club.

Booted and suited, hatted and gloved, the Atlantic 7 degrees hardly touched me. In fact it felt a bit cheaty to be so swaddled – this was hardly cold water therapy. But the waves proved an energetic challenge, and we leapt and dodged, ducked and dived for a good half hour. Coming out I punched the air and strode up the beach feeling wholesomely de-cobwebbed, exhilarated and invincible.

Leaping in the winter waves became a weekly ritual, and fabulous it was, but it still wasn’t swimming. One fine day when the wind had finally dropped, we stood waist deep in the bay feeling a little non-plussed and it took a visiting swimmer to show us the way as she set off to freestyle around the bay and back. Aha – when the waves aren’t pounding, you can swim. Seems daft now, but it was a revelation.

The very next day I dug out my goggles, chose the most sheltered of our many beaches, and swam for almost an hour – beating my way across the bay against the will of tide and current, and being whisked back home on the crest of a wave. Within that swim I became aware of two things: firstly, I am living surrounded by a completely free swimming pool – no crowds, no cholrine, no heat and noise, no entry fee – and secondly, I no longer want to be in a restrictive wetsuit.

To go straight for swimsuit swimming is a bit scary – it’s cold in them deep waters. Kirsty at Wild Diamond kindly lent me a shortie (a wetsuit with short arms and legs), but it felt restrictive on my shoulders. I found specialist open water swim gear online, but it’s aimed at competition triathletes, and expensive. My search led me to a neoprene swimsuit, which with boots, gloves and hat proved to be just the job (if a bit skimpy round the arse for my middle-aged body!). 

Here’s the news: there’s a gap in the market for open water swimwear for older folk who aren’t planning to compete…. and have neither illusion nor desire to look like beach babes… but just want to swim with a warm torso and free limbs.

Five months after my first winter dip, I now wake every morning thinking about the day’s swim – which beach (most sheltered), which togs (warm or cold?), at what time, and how work can fit in around it (the swim takes priority). At 56 and after various health, fitness and general life thrills and spills, I now feel physically and mentally fitter, healthier, happier and calmer than I have in a very long time. My bathroom is constantly drapped in swim gear and my drains are probably filling up with sand, but wild swimming is my very favourite activity – rain or shine, wild or calm, summer or winter. All you need is the right gear and an ocean.

Dive in: here comes the rain again.