Polar Bare
Wild body meets wild nature in this tale of swimming from the author’s past.
There was a strong breeze, flurries of snow or hail, and dark clouds hanging ominously over the horizon. I was sixteen, visiting my brother, who was lucky enough to live in a very beautiful small town nestled between two magnificent stretches of coastline. To the East of the town stretched a narrow sandy beach with little coves and bays. To the West, some seven miles of broad sands and crashing waves. It was to the West beach that I was heading on that windswept and freezing day.
There was no-one around. I had a purpose in mind. I was going to swim in the sea. I was going to swim in the nude. I got undressed quickly amongst the sand dunes and then ran down the long stretch of beach towards the water. Energy and exhilaration took away any sense of cold. The water was very shallow. I had to splash through it for several minutes before reaching sufficient depth to be able to properly plunge in. But at last my feet left the sand and the freezing water took my weight. Nothing between my naked skin and wild nature. Waves break over my body until I have swum out far enough to be clear of them. My breath came in sharp gasps, both from cold and excitement. I swam back to shore with waves pushing me in towards the sand. Then a long run back up the beach to my clothes.
There is something very special about climbing into your clothes after a swim in cold water. A kind of all-over warm glow in your body. I felt it then as I was fully dressed and walking back towards my brother's house. I had a deep sense of satisfaction. I had had the courage to get naked and the courage to brave the elements. Mission accomplished.
Many years later I learn that there are groups called the 'Polar Bare Club', whose members take to the water in cold weather, just like my own teenage swim. (Unfortunately, Polar Bare Club has recently become a horrible computer game, so cold water swimming groups have started to use 'Bear' instead of 'Bare'. But I will stay with 'Bare', as it captures what we are about.) These cold dips have the advantage that there is usually no-one around as well as all the excitement of being nude in situations where most people would be firmly wrapped up in clothes. More generally, 'skinny dipping' has become a thing and the term 'wild swimming' has been invented. I like 'wild swimming' as a phrase, as it links nicely to ideas of wild body, wild mind and wild soul. But of course, to be a proper wild swim, it must be a nude swim!
Many years later I returned to that same beach of my teenage swim. It was very much unchanged. The weather was considerably warmer and there were a few dog-walkers in the far distance. I had a swim, much like my teenage adventure so long ago. This time though, I am able to sit on my towel for a while and dry off in the sun. There is another nude around but they keep a respectful distance.
Several beaches I remember as a child have not done so well. They are either no longer there or greatly changed for the worse. Even a modest rise in sea levels has washed sand and small pebbles away, leaving only rocks. When we think about these changes it is often in an abstract sense. But when it is a place you have known and loved as a child — either for swimming or sport or some happy times with family and friends — then it takes on a sense of personal loss. New lonely beaches, or hidden valleys or mysterious forests are unlikely to show up any time soon. Meanwhile, human 'development' continues apace, making the world bland, boring, disenchanted, polluted, sick and ugly. My heart and soul feel this loss like a wound. Do we travel further afield to seek out the beautiful places that still survive? But that just adds to the problem.
Few of us have the power or influence to do much about this loss — we can only do our best in our own small corner of the world. The most important thing for me is to live as simply as possible — a very, very simple life. This, it seems to me, captures the spirit of what my teenage self was seeking all those years ago. This is the spirit of Polar Bare.
