On the 20th Sept, an email dropped into my inbox from the Outdoor Swimming Society (OSS) inviting me to take part in the inaugural Hurly Burly swim – a 10km swim from the estuary at Barmouth to Penmaenpool. The event description was seductive. The talk was of fire pits, marshmallows, blackberries and a fast 10km course assisted by an incoming spring tide. At one point a possible completion time of 60 mins was suggested. By contrast my most recent long swim, the Chill Swim (end to end of Coniston), I had taken 3 hours 21 mins to do 8.4km in still lake waters. But the swim was planned for a mere two and a half week’s time, leaving no real time to train or acclimatise. I was the first to admit, I was in no way prepared for a 10km open water swim, this late on in the year. I had swum regularly at Hathersage Pool (heated to 28 degrees) but for no more than about 40 mins at a time, with a maximum distance of about 2km in a session. I had not done any open water swims during the year, and indeed had not seriously swum open water (not counting from the odd dip in the sea on holiday or plunge into the pool at Slippery Stones since the Chill Swim in 2014. But there was still something attractive about such a long distance swim taking such a short period of time and having stepped up my cycling this year, I knew I was fit and that two hours of intense physical activity was do-able. The kicker was that I was in no way acclimatised to the cold water temperatures which can play havoc with the best laid training plans.
I held off booking a place, hoping it would sell out quickly, taking the decision out of my hands.
I contacted a couple of friends who are runners to see if they wanted to do the run element (optional), figuring if they didn’t, that could be my ‘out’. Trouble is, although I waited, it didn’t sell out and although both my friends had other plans, I still wanted to do the swim.
Four days later I bit the bullet and booked my place.
Three days after that I travelled over to Lincoln to [Activities Away](https://www.activitiesaway.uk/?lightbox=dataItem-iyo8q0ps4] for my first serious open water swim since 2014. To give an indication of how late in the season it was to be starting this; Activities Away were about the only location still operating outdoor swimming sessions – Uswim at Salford Quays and Boundary Park had already closed for the season and Rother Valley in Sheffield had also called it a day.
It was not an auspicious swim. I had hoped to stay in for two hours to show myself that I could withstand the cold for that duration (being the maximum predicted time in the water for the event). The water temperature was 16 degrees. I managed an hour before the cold forced me out. In that time I had done 3.2km, just shy of a third of the required distance. On the plus side, my recovery was quick and I figured that with a rest and refuel at a feed station half way along, I would be able to complete the same duration again which should be enough to get me round with the tidal assistance.
No sooner had I done this, it was time to wind down the training in preparation for the event itself!
An email from the OSS the day before the event stating that the water temperature was down to 12.5 degrees at the start and 11.5 degrees at the end did nothing to calm my nerves!
Ironically my 14 day ‘cooling off’ period for cancelling the transaction coincided with the day of the event, giving me an option to cancel right up until the start. Yet despite this, I found myself standing on the beach at Barmouth at 8.30am on Sat 8th Oct, with 200 other swimmers, counting down from ten before walking out to meet the sea. And it really was a meeting. The tide was coming in so fast that just by standing there the water was rising all around us. And yes, the start was cold, but the great thing about OSS events is that they are all about your own personal journey – not about racing anyone else. This means you avoid the scrum starts which often accompany more triathlon focused open water swimming events where you’re more likely to get kicked in the head (yes, Activity Wales Events, I’m looking at you!) A quick look at the start video for the Hurly Burly and you can see the difference – swimmers calmly taking to the water, splashing themselves to adjust slowly to the temperature, waving to the camera, chatting, whooping and helping any other participant who might be struggling.
This being an inaugural OSS event there was not much in the way of course marking – no huge inflatable buoys to sight on for example, but the sheer number of paddle boarders more than made up for that. Whenever I looked up to check my direction I invariably caught sight of a blue t-shirted paddle boarder marking the outer edges of the course which was more than good enough for me.
Like the Dart which I had done 4 years previously, the first couple of kilometres passed by in a whoosh from the incoming tide. Swimming out to the Barmouth Bridge I realised at the last second that I needed to push myself further over to get under the legs of the bridge without being smashed into them, but passing under the bridge was quite the thrill. The water had an iron-y tang here, caused, I’m guessing, from the legs rusting and depositing fragments of metal in the water. I’m not sure that’s a good thing, but the bridge has been standing for 150 years so who am I to question! From the bridge it felt like only seconds before I was passed the beautiful clock tower which was the second landmark. From there I did not manage to spot any further landmarks (boat house, Cader Idris etc) and neither did I manage to find the feed station slated to be at the 5km mark. I checked my watch at 3.2kms and again at 6kms and could not spot it either time. Speaking to people at the end, I did not find a single soul who had found it – that’s a mountain of jelly babies and lucozade leftover! We had been asked to enter into the swim in the spirit of adventure as this was a trial year and not everything might go to plan. What I hadn’t expected was missing the opportunity for a break, mid-way. Still, there wasn’t a great deal I could do about it and the quicker I got to the finish, the quicker I could take that break!
It was around this time that the water turned from salty to brackish, indicating that we had moved away from the tidal estuary and into the river proper. A group of gulls flew overhead in V formation – quite the spectacle and the clouds began to break, showing blue sky and hints of sunshine. I was enjoying it!
At 8km I spotted a group of swimmers standing and wondered if the feed station had moved. It hadn’t, but the shallow water gave the perfect time to gulp down the energy gel I had secreted up my wrist for emergencies. I flipped and flopped over whether to bother taking the time to eat given I was only 2kms away from the end. Given what happened next, I was glad I did.
Like many others, I sighted the white building of the George III pub and the smear of the toll bridge on the horizon and began making my way towards the right hand bank, not wanting to leave this too late and risk a long swim in to the finish. Yet every time I raised my head to sight, the pub and bridge seemed just as far away. I don’t really know how long this went on for but I was really ready to stop by this point, I guess this would have been after about 2 hours in the water. Even as I caught a glimpse of the finish (hidden around the bend in the river) it still seemed impossibly distant. I switched to doing head up breaststroke as I was scared of losing sight of the finish and veering off course, adding further distance to my journey. I just wanted to get out. Finally the pushing paid off and I knew I could make the finish. I put my head down and front crawled the last bit, exiting the water in 2 hours 18 mins and 43 seconds.
My exit from the water coincided with the finish of a skins swimmer (non-wetsuited). I could only marvel at their mental toughness to be able to complete a swim like that without a full body layer of neoprene!
The finish ‘village’ more than lived up to the descriptions of hoc chocolate, fire pits, marshmallows and camaraderie. That left only one thing to do – fish, chips and wine back at the caravan, with my love for open water swimming, firmly reignited!