Hooked on Swimming began life during Covid. A few women swimming together began a What’s App group and today there are over 200 members. Of those 200, only really 50 or so swim regularly and quite a few of these only at weekends, holidays, summer.

I joined in Autumn 2022. I was down in the walled garden in Tintern gathering windfalls for the pigs and got chatting to the head gardener there. I can’t remember how the topic of swimming came about but he told me his wife was one of the founders of the group and he said he would ask her to add me. A few days later I got an invite. I had been swimming myself at Carnivan and was getting grief from family and neighbours. Lots of locals won’t swim in Carnivan as it has rip tides.

I remember my first swim vividly in Baginbun, where we swim mostly. I felt shy (unusual for me) but they all seemed to know each other really well. I think they had taken names for wooley hats with the name and logo of the group on, and these were being distributed. Lots of people welcomed me, asked me my name and told me theirs. Which I promptly forgot. I am hopeless at remembering names. For weeks after I had to keep asking names. I still don’t know everyone but I do know the Hard Core Crew as I’ve named them.

It took me a while to fit in. I was feeling very sad and vulnerable at the time because of a horrible accident with my elderly terrier who I’d had almost 13 years. She had gone quite deaf and her vision wasn’t great. She had been let out of the house without my knowledge by two students I had here at the time and I hit her reversing in to the driveway. She was so small I couldn’t see her and I thought she was inside. The guilt was horrendous.

Eventually I found my feet though. I remember walking down the slip one winter’s morning and I got called a ‘hardy local’. I’d arrived. Being called a hardy local is a great honour but I’ve since been informed that it really only applies if you have been referred thus by the local press. Sadly I missed that day.

There has been eons written about sea swimming and about the health benefits in particular. I was never a big swimmer, particularly in Ireland as it’s so bloody cold most of the time. But when I first moved here in late 2017 we had one of the hottest summers the following year after the biggest snowfall in March – ‘the beast from the east’. During that summer after a day’s work painting and donkey work clearing weeds and trees and general junk, it was just so refreshing to go for a swim. Every year after that I made a vow to keep swimming. But like a lot of my vows it never happened. Until now.

After (summer) swimming I felt so good. I often tried to describe the feeling to myself but never really nailed it. I wondered would I feel as good after a swim in winter. I did. The winter days we get out of cars with the wind howling and rain dashing off us. When the last thing you feel like is stripping off. When it’s so miserable you can’t even get dried and changed on the beach but have to sprint back up to the car and brace yourself against a door in danger of slamming on a stray limb as you hop around trying to peel off swim boots and gloves not to mention a swim suit that sticks like glue as you shiver and shake. But afterwards, never once do you feel regret. It makes absolutely no sense but you feel wonderful, exhilarated even elated. If you could bottle the feeling, you’d make a mint! The ice cold block that mysteriously clamps itself on your back after you’ve dressed fully though isn’t great – but it’s shortlived.

Days you swim in winter sun and after wrapped up like an Eskimo as you grip tightly onto a warm drink then sit chatting to your pals are wonderful.

I’ve made amazing friends. And while the majority are my age, the group has young and old and a few (brave) men. All of a sudden I had a whole new social life outside of swimming. Maybe people, who let’s face it are a bit mad and you have to be to strip off in the depths of winter and jump into baltic seas, have a lot in common and similar interests. We go to arts events, for meals out, to parties on the beach and in each other’s houses, even a music festival last summer where we camped out in the rain.

One thing though we never ever take where we live for granted. If I had a penny for everytime someone said ‘were so lucky to have this/to live here/to be able to do this, I’d be a wealthy woman.