GETTING FIT:Join a bunch of sea swimmers, a hardy lot who enjoy the craic as they brave the chilly waters, writes ANGELA RUTTLEDGE.
THE HUNGARIANS HAVE an expression, “and the cat jumps to the water”. This perfectly describes my mother’s recently renewed attempts to learn to swim. A reluctant but determined pussy cat, she has succeeded in getting her face into the water this time. Always keen to try anything that blows off the cobwebs, she hopes her feline revulsion will evaporate when she graduates to the sea.
Our less than sunny climate may put most people off anything beyond paddling, but swimmers of all levels are increasingly hitting the open water. After talking to some swimmers, I’ve discovered the attraction is as much about the craic as it is about getting fit. Last Sunday, for instance, I thought I saw three slick seals, alternately chatting and cutting through the Irish Sea off the Bull Wall. On closer examination, it turned out they were women members of the Piranha Triathlon Club, practising in their wetsuits. Further along, in the men’s shelter, two young men were trying to preserve a little privacy as I loitered in their open-air changing room. The older ones didn’t mind me; bright-eyed, lithe and tanned, their healthy appearance suggested they’ve been bathing in the spa waters of the Blue Lagoon rather than Dublin Bay. They were reluctant to say how many years they have been gathering at the Bull Wall “for the camaraderie and a dip”, but they joke that the oldest of them wasn’t at the GPO in 1916 because he was in the shelter.
“I swim fairly regularly, about three times a week, from Easter to Christmas, but some of the men come here every day,” one of them tells me while drying off in the sun. “I’m retired now, but I used to have a fairly stressful job, and after a shift I’d go for a swim to unwind.
“A few of the lads are real sun-worshippers,” he says. “They go over to a dip in the sand dunes – we call it carpetland, because they bring rugs to lie on.” It’s an informal club, often the men don’t know anything more about each other than their first names and a shared sense of well being after a bracing dip in the Irish Sea.
Sandy Dowling, a member of Eastern Bay Swimming Club, agrees with comments on the social side of swimming. “I have made the greatest friends through swimming. Lifelong friends. My club, Eastern Bay, may not have the fastest swimmers, but we have the best fun after each sea race. And since I’ve been bringing my daughter, there is always someone offering to mind her while I am in the sea.”
She even found her future husband through swimming. They met as teenagers, swimming in St Paul’s swimming club, and worked together as lifeguards and swimming teachers. “We met again in our early twenties,” she explains, “at the ESB pool in Ringsend. We moved in together because we lived so far from each other, it was difficult to meet up for swimming.”
Dowling tells me about her longest swim. “It was the length of Killary Harbour, 14.5km. A boat took us out into the mouth of the fjord and we jumped in and swam up to Leenane. We each had someone in a canoe to carry water and food and keep us company. My guy was brilliant. When he told me I had only 2km to go, I was really emotional because I knew I would finish – I hadn’t known at the start if I was going to be capable of finishing.” She also remembers not winning the Liffey Swim in 2007, although it was only 16 weeks after her daughter was born.
But is the idea of going down the Liffey not overwhelmingly daunting and, well, yuck? “The Liffey isn’t the dirtiest place in Dublin to swim. You get a really different perspective of Dublin city as you look up and see the bridges and buildings – things look very different from down there. Going under O’Connell Bridge it is very dark, it’s quite a wide bridge and you are under it for what seems like ages. You think about stories you have heard about rats, and every time you bump into a stick or anything floating in the water, you get a fright.”
More bumps in the water await the 40 Foot Walruses, another club, whose members are going to swim Loch Ness on July 4th. One Walrus, Donal Gorman, tells me that Loch Ness is “colder than the sea, dark and murky”.
Last year they found out that this swim was a test of nerve as much as fitness. With the locals hamming it up about the Loch Ness monster, Donal describes how, accompanied by some lonely bag-pipes, they were driven to the far side of the loch "in a boat called the Nessie Hunter, which has radar so you can see what's going on underwater. The Scots thought we were crazy, but afterwards they brought out Scotch for us to drink from chalices."If they manage to survive the eerie depths of Loch Ness a second time, the Walruses will be getting into more mythical waters, swimming in the Hellespont Europe-to-Asia swim in Turkey on August 30th in aid of Médecins Sans Frontières and two local national schools.
SMART INVESTMENT
- Shortie westsuits cost from €69, with year-round surf suits with sealed seams costing about €400 (from Great Outdoors, Chatham Street, Dublin 2, www.greatoutdoors.ie). Everyone in the country should own one.
- To find out more about swimming in Ireland, and for the national open sea-swimming calendar, see www.swimireland.ie. For details of the Leinster sea-swimming calendar and clubs, see www.swimleinster.com.
- To follow the 40 Foot Walruses, see http://40footwalruses.blogspot.com.
The Piranha Triathlon Club’s website is www.piranhatri.com. www.localclubsireland.com contains a list of swimming clubs around the country.
- If you are thinking about taking the plunge please think about your own safety and the safety of those around you. See the Irish Water Safety guidelines at www.iws.ie.