YOLO Journal Issue 12 - Flipbook - Page 44
WILD
SWIMMING
Photographs and Words by Sarah Hammer
Your heart beats fast and your chest
compresses. Your arms and legs insist on
making fast, circular motions, but you’re
not covering any distance yet. You push
your face, then your head, underwater
for a second, and feel an exhilarating
rush of icy cold down your shirt. You
linger there and notice a darting fish.
You dive deeper and start to kick your
feet and legs in longer, more graceful
motions, then return to the water’s edge,
when a warm rush of blood helps you
breathe much deeper. Your skin is soft,
your hair clean; you feel completely alive.
My husband, Wolfgang, loves to
swim, especially in crisp, pristine waters.
A few years ago, he discovered the book
series Wild Swimming, which shares
coordinates of freshwater swimming
locations around the world. I’ll admit
that I was reluctant at first. With three
young children, travel was challenging
enough. Still, we agreed we wanted to
create meaningful experiences for our
girls that would help to illuminate our
family’s values and shape our bonds.
So when our older girls were 2 and 5,
we planned a road trip through France’s
Loire Valley: my husband mapped out
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good swimming opportunities and I
found small hotels or B&Bs nearby. Our
first stop was once a fishery for Louis
XIV just a couple of hours from Paris,
in Cheverny. Lost, we rambled through
a pine forest and eventually found a
small lake mirroring the pine trees,
enveloped in blue sky. A narrow, rickety
dock divided it in half like a cross. The
sun-kissed wood felt hot on our bare feet.
The air was heavy and quiet. We were
completely alone. One by one, we jumped
into the freezing water. There were some
screams and shouts, but they were soon
replaced with laughter. We swam out
into the middle of the lake with the girls
on our backs, duck-diving to the muddy
bottom. Dripping wet, we ate some
rillette with fresh baguette in the sun,
smiling, as it dawned on us that we had
found our thing, our family activity.
Wild swimming has given our family
travels a sense of purpose as well as a
willingness to take risks. I still cannot
believe it when our now 10, 6 and 2-yearold daughters willfully jump into freezing cold water, even in the rain, on the
banks of Altaussee, or when they beg to
get out of the car so they can swim in a •
