David Walliams in the Thames, approaching Caversham Lock.

However, it’s a pity that it’s being portrayed as a dangerous, daring stunt by the media and even Sport Relief, which aims to encourage physical exercise of all sorts as well as the more serious business of raising money to help the disadvantaged.  Before he even started the papers couldn’t wait to describe his coming swim as a battle against a fetid, freezing river with an undertow which could suck you under in an instant.  The glee in some pieces describing how he has been slightly delayed by a stomach bug is palpable.  Most people who swim in the river never get ill – after all, there’s a world of difference between a 30 minute dip and spending 8 hours a day in hard exercise. As for it being his “most dangerous challenge yet”… he swam the channel, which is full of heavy shipping, strong currents, potentially huge waves, jellyfish, sharks and hugely more sewage than the Thames – whilst the worst that you’ll get on most of the Thames is an irate swan.  The tidal Thames is indeed hazardous – as a cursory glance will tell you – but for most of its length it’s ideal for a relaxed swim – perhaps just far enough to say you’ve swam a bitof the Thames…

No swimming signs abound in Reading's Thames Parks.

The good folk over at RALSA are getting similarly hot under the collar about this.  It did occur to me – too late of course – that this event would have been a great opportunity to change the image of river swimming, either by simple propaganda or an impromptu dip. All the best to David – enjoy the rest of the swim if that’s possible!

Q: Why did the penguins jump up and down when they met? A: To break the ice! Image source: nothingtoseehere at Flickr

After a brief safety talk by a Lido staff with a loudhailer, which mostly consisted of “you don’t have to you know”, there was a mass jumping into the rather chilly water, followed by wailings and climbings-out.  Like most, we were content with a short circular swim out around the shallow end – I personally enjoyed the rather strange feeling of being in a swimming pool full of slabs of ice (a good 2-3 cm thick) which didn’t feel any colder than the water (since of course it isn’t).

Us in the middle! Image source: nothingtoseehere at Flickr

After beating a hasty retreat swimmers found themselves covered in scratches from the ice – all part of the invigorating experience (probably).  As might be expected, the cafe did a roaring trade in all things hot and wet, and the Lido Users Group seemed to get quite a bit of attention – and hopefully managed to persuade people that it’s not usually as cold!  Indeed, the lido is usually open only for the summer, though last year saw opening being extended into October (and again next year) – see the official website if you’re interested.

There are some more pictures of people looking cold over here.

Getting There

I’m not actually sure the midwinter swim is on this year – but there are midwinter and Christmas swims in various places – and many are listed in Kate Rew’s book.  Brockwell Lido is however a great place for a swim anyway, and easy to get to.  It’s only a stone’s throw from Herne Hill station (from Victoria and Thameslink stations including St Pancreas and Blackfriars), and about 15 mins walk from Brixton tube.  Buses 3, 68, 196, 322 and 468 stop nearby.  Check for directions from elsewhere in London at TfL, and from elsewhere at National Rail Enquiries.

So it was at Pangbourne yesterday – we scurried along the riverbank from the station to get to our customary swimming spot just beyond Pangbourne Meadows before darkness fell. The fields – busy in summer with dog walkers and general merrymaking – were empty and we quickly descended into the shallows. The river here has shallow banks for a couple of metres from the shore, which then deepen suddenly, so we were careful to avoid a quicker-than-planned entry into the water.

Swimming about was lovely in the dark water with only a grebe, watching confusedly, and several bats darting about above our heads. Afterwards, to the pub for a quick one before our train home.

NB: Pangbourne Meadows – the part nearest the village – is owned by the National Trust and swimming is forbidden on the sign on entering the Meadow. How enforceable this is is debatable given the navigational rights on the Thames, but in any case the stretch of river by the Meadow is usually full of moored boats, so it’s better to continue five minutes up the river.

Getting there

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From Pangbourne station, leave the main exit and head down the approach slope. Cross the road and head down the path opposite. Follow this along, briefly past the river and over the little River Pang. After an alleyway you come out on a road again; over and to the left is Pangbourne Meadows (the road crosses the river on one of Britain’s few remaining privately-owned toll bridges). Walk alongside the river and join the Thames path as it leaves the Meadow – there are plenty of places to enter the river soon after.

More problematic than the cold (for now at least!) is the dark and gloom of encroaching winter making it hard to swim before it’s dark.  Still, we’ve managed a couple of times this week (OK, once wasn’t really before it got dark…) and very nice it’s been too.  We’ve swum at one of our regular spots in the Thames just upriver of Reading.  There’s a convenient sloping bit of concrete (not intended to be so I suspect) for easy entry and exit, and usually a surprising amount of wildlife so close to the town – we’ve seen a kingfisher there, low down and hidden from the bank but easily spotted from the middle of the river.  Today it was just the resident heron and some very athletic fish leaping clear of the water.

The temperature earlier in the week was 16 °C and today probably a degree or two colder.  Not especially cold for anyone used to swimming in the summer, but a feeling a little prickly almost – a taster of what’s to come.

Getting there

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This spot’s on the Thames Path (as ever) about 15-20 minutes walk from Caversham Bridge, about another 10-15 minutes to the station.  Reading station is of course the bustling hub of rail transport, so no problems getting there.  Various buses including the X39/X40 from Oxford, Wallingford and other places, and the 800 from Henley go directly over Caversham Bridge.

It was a beautiful day, and Sefryn, the organiser, had arranged to meet people at the small car park just at the edge of Port Meadow. When we arrived all were exclaiming at how many people had turned up. We set off at a straggle along the path that runs through the Meadow, heading left to set up camp near to the white girder footbridge.

Medley footbridge at Port Meadow - photo from wikicommons, taken by Motmit

There were all sorts of swimmers: at least one family with kids; people who’d come along with friends just to try it out; impressively sporty types who told us they often went on river exploring expeditions, and idlers like ourselves. It was great (and unusual) to be swimming with a group of people – usually it’s just the two of us, or one or two others at most.

I am far too nesh to just jump into any water, especially the cold variety, but the area between the two bridges at Port Meadow is perfect even for the nervous swimmer. You can climb down from the arched bridge to stones which make handy steps – on the left as you stand on the arched bridge facing back over the meadow towards town.

Lots of local kids were already in the water, daring each other to jump off the bridge. I climbed in without too much shilly-shallying, not wanting to look like a wuss in front of other, bolder swimmers. The water, though murky, was a perfect temperature, wonderfully refreshing on such a hot day.

As the appointed “Big Jump” time approached, we all climbed over the railings of the arched bridge to jump in. I had managed to convince myself that the river would only be deep enough for safety at the middle of the bridge. The countdown began and I was still dithering over whether I would dare to do it. “3…2….1″ and I was left clinging on at the word “Jump!” as everyone else splashed into the water. I hastily shuffled a few feet along the rail towards the middle and jumped in – not as far to the water as I had been expecting. Sure enough, no bones were broken and there was plenty of depth to spare. I am now a convert to jumping in (only once I have checked the depth and made sure there are no obstacles, of course – I’m still a total scaredy-cat).

The jump accomplished, we decided to climb over the footings of the white girder bridge and swim up the river past the boats moored on either side. Beware, it is fairly spiky under this bridge and can be shallower than you think – mind your shins! On the other side, the rows of barges were a pretty sight, and the gentle current made for a sedate swim. I wondered aloud whether the water was as clean as it looked around the moorings. From aboard, a man assured us that boats there aren’t allowed to discharge waste into the water. Another worry laid to rest.

At the top of the small island, we turned and met the rest of the Big Jump party swimming the other way – at first my short sight led me to mistake them for a group of ducks bobbing on the water. Everyone was enjoying the festive atmosphere of the swim. Back at the arched bridge, more jumping in was in progress. It felt like one of those summer afternoons that could have gone on for ever.  Alas, we had to be on our way to go to a barbecue – hard times. We left vowing to come back soon. Whilst some swim spots are somewhat specialist in their appeal, this was clearly a swimming hole in the traditional sense, a great place to bring friends and family on a hot day.

I once read that Port Meadow is Oxford’s oldest monument, an ancient piece of common land, and if you believe Wikipedia it has never been ploughed. It is a fair walk from the train station, but the path along the canal at least lets you go there as the crow flies. Jericho, the part of town that borders the Meadow, has some of Oxford’s best cafes and pubs (the Gardener’s Arms on Plantation Road serves both purposes with its lovely beer garden and cheap and cheerful veggie food). On the far side of the Meadow from town, the Perch and Trout pubs are traditional beery destinations.

Getting There

From the train station it’s half an hour at a leisurely pace to the Meadow – mostly along the canal path. Drivers could park in the small car park off Walton Well Road. The map pin shows the bridge we jumped off  - do not jump off the girder bridge as the water is very shallow there.

Briit's a brrit bbrchilly

The cliffs of Pavey Ark make the black water look bottomless (though it’s only about 15 metres deep). The banks shelve fairly gradually but are composed of slippery, rounded stones so it’s a bit Ministry of Silly Walks trying to get in. A quick puff up and down near the bank was enough to feel braced and ready for a nice cup of tea, cunningly brought along in readiness.
The walk back down along Stickle Ghyll took us past plenty of nice looking waterfall pools which would be great on a hot day, and only a short walk from the road, and more importantly, pub! Which served us a nice pint of something local and northern-tasting (I forget what now).

Getting There

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The Langdale Rambler bus goes between Windermere/Ambleside and the end of the road, stopping at the hotel.  There’s also parking, and the Cumbria Way passes by too.

The lake itself made for a change to Rydal – long, deep, mysterious and mercifully free of weeds.  We had a longish swim into the wind, towards a group of windsurfers who kept us entertained with constant fallings and irritated swearings.  Eventually one of them gave up and got a lift back with his mates in a rowing boat, a sensible decision if you ask me.

We didn’t travel along much of the lake, but it all looked like potentially good swimming.  On the other bank it’s possible to swim out to Peel Island of Swallows and Amazons fame, which sounds pretty awesome.  Though some way of getting some warm clothes to wear once there would probably be useful for exploring purposes.

Getting There

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We drove, but the pier we swam from is served by the occasional Coniston Launch southern tour service, which is a hop-on hop-off service, so plenty of swimming could be had if desired.  Coniston town, on the northern end of the lake, is served by the 505 and X12 buses from Windermere and Kendal, amongst other places (timetables – traveline)

At the edge there’s a 3 metre or so cliff into perfectly clear water, fed from a small waterfall.  We had to walk across the river upstream to get in on the less precipitous western side – there is also a path on this side from Stonethwaite.

It's hard to capture the pool itself - this shot is from the more-climbable side. There's a well-worn patch at the top of the rock opposite showing a popular jumping spot for fearless youths. There are some rather more impressive pictures out there on the interwebs.

Some bravery is needed getting into the chilly (even in August) water, straight off the high mountains around the Langdales, since the rocks fall quickly into the water (although Daniel Start suggests swimming up into the pot from the pebbly region downstream).  Once in, the clarity of the water is amazing for southerners like us, used to the murk of our lakes and meandering rivers.  Definitely recommended is to swim up to the waterfall (some pulling along on the rock may be needed) and climb over the wall just under the surface into the bubblebath under the waterfall.

We have it on good authority that it gets busy on hot summer days – we didn’t see another soul on our cloudy but dry day.  The Langstrath Country Inn served us a few very nice pints of Jenning’s and speedy yet enormous food.  A proper walker’s hotel (the bar is plenty informal though).

On the way back we passed a gentler, but deep spot on the river which would be great for a swim too, near the campsite.

Getting there

The 78 bus (timetable – traveline) goes between Keswick and Seatoller  every 30 mins – hourly on the B5289 – get off at Stonethwaite and walk down the short road into the village.  Blackmoss pot is at NY267113 – there are clear paths along both sides of the river.

OS explorer map OL4 – click here for an online version.

Branches everywhere

Visitors to the award-winningly pretty village of Goring hoping to buy some bland yet inoffensive casualwear will be disappointed to find that the Goring Gap is not a branch of the multinational purveyor of chinos, but rather a mildly interesting geological feature. It would seem that a short half-a-million years ago the Thames became bored of its old route east to East Anglia and decided to steamroll its way through the Chiltern hills to make a run for the bright lights of London. Which presumably came as a relief to neolithic man, who for years had been nagged by neolithic woman as to why he had built a string of bridges in London when there was no river there.

Nowadays it has left a rather nice shallow valley through which the Thames flows for half a mile or so, with tree-lined banks and, on account of the narrowing of the river, less mud and silt at the banks.  Not far along the Thames path from the village, we found a nice beach calmly basking in the shade of a willow.  The water was surprisingly cold after the recent not-exceptionally-summery weather which made the option of wimping out and wading in at a snails pace rather attractive.  Away from the bank, the river is deep and easy swimming – though the current makes swimming upriver slow going compared to slower bits of the Thames.  Keep an eye out for boats and wildlife – we saw a kingfisher darting around a tree on the far bank.

Shady beach-like thing

Getting there

From Goring & Streatley railway station (every 30 mins from Oxford and Reading), follow Station Road westwards, which leads onto Ferry Lane (opposite the John Barleycorn – good for a post-swim pint (Brakspear’s) and game of billiards).  Following the river S (left from your approach), about 10 minutes walk takes you to a slight bend in the river with sandy banks under willows.  We chose a spot just after a footpath joins the Thames Path, after a manor house to the left.

Rydal water from the south shore - Heron Island on the left, Little Isle on the right.

On a rare cloudy day, the water was cool and easy to get into from the gently shelving beach.  Slightly alarmingly, once the water is deep enough to swim, there turned out to be rather dense weed beneath the surface – frail enough to break easily, but still rather annoying.  We realised later that the area near the islands – where we were swimming – is probably rather shallower than other parts of the lake, so these may be better swimming.  But the lure of the islands was too much – a nice swim out to Heron Island (pleasingly inhabited by an IRL heron) and Little Isle (complete with mysterious ruin, visible occasionally through gaps in the trees) and back to the shore for a nice warming cup of tea…

Grasmere is nearby and just as swimmable. Probably.

Getting There

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Both Rydal Water and Grasmere are next to the main road (A591) and there’s probably plenty of parking nearby.  Buses 555 / 556 go past reasonably frequently (Stagecoach North West – timetable) between Kendal, Windermere (which both have stations), Keswick and even as far as Lancaster and Carlisle.

Alternatively, try Traveline North East (oddly).