Wild swimming: My year-round experience in the Salish Sea

I have always had mixed feelings about swimming in cold water and my idea of paradise is floating in the warm waters of the Caribbean. But I grew up on the Connecticut shore of Long Island Sound and spent most summer days on the beach and in the chilly water. (My mother's rule was that we had to come out and get warmed up if our lips turned blue.)

After attending college far from my beloved beach and then living in Paris for five years, I moved to Seattle with my former husband. It was August and hot when we arrived. We headed for the Sound to cool off and I was surprised that no one was swimming. I knew the water was colder than Long Island Sound, but thought it couldn't be that cold. I dove in and couldn't breathe for what seemed like five minutes. That was the last time I would swim in the Salish Sea for decades.

When we moved to the Swinomish Reservation in 2008, I joked that since global warming seemed inevitable, I hoped to be able to swim in front of my home on Skagit Bay and have monkeys in the trees before I died. The first pandemic summer was warm and the mud flats in the bay heated up the surface of the water and I found that I could actually swim in front of my house. By September, I realized I had been in the water nearly every day for almost three months and decided to see how far into the fall I could swim. As the water and air cooled, I was taking a dip more than actual swimming, but was sure I was still staying in for a few minutes. In December, I asked my husband to time me and it turned out that I was only in the water for 30 seconds! I needed to up my game, so I turned to the internet for guidance.

In my research, I found that I was a cliché: Middle aged women all over the world had taken up cold water swimming since the start of the pandemic. It was most popular in the UK (where they have a long history of "wild swimming") and the Outdoor Swimming Society's membership grew by 36% in 2020. People were turning towards wild swimming since the pools and popular beaches were closed down during the first years of the pandemic. Cold water gurus like Wim Hof had long touted the benefits of cold water immersion and were seeing increased interest in the experience and the possible mental and physical health benefits. Generally, adherents of cold water immersion believe that this practice can help with depression, inflammation and other ailments, but no studies so far have shown any proven benefits.

I also found out that the diver in one of my favorite films, "My Octopus Teacher," was swimming in 50 degree water without a wet suit while making the documentary! I had assumed the water was warm and now I felt even more inspired to increase my time in the water.

In a second article I will share what I have learned from avid reading about cold water swimming and almost three years of daily swims.