Wales and the West, Day 1. London to Hay on Wye

Today, to start our journey Clare and I travelled from London to Hay on Wye. In Clare’s garden at Cusop we met with Sheila, a friend of Clare’s Dad who grew up beside the Wye but never swam in it.  She learned to swim as an adult in the local pool. It was interesting to listen to the reasons why she had never swum in the river – and how the oral tradition that she had been brought up with, particularly from her Mum, was that the river was unsafe – it was dirty from agriculture and it was full of whirlypools, something  she told us that city people didn’t understand. In lengthening shadows we chatted to her alongside Clare’s Dad, Tony, who swam in the river very often as a child, and who had been brought up to believe that the river was safe and generally clean. Sheila remembers walking alongside the river and watching the salmon jump (something not now seen in the Wye with any frequency at least) but she never ventured in. It’s became more understandable that Sheila’s Mum had some reluctance in encouraging her children into water when she told us that her own mother had drowned. This was something we didn’t press her on.

Later we were really lucky to meet up with Barbara Lewthwaite, who runs the Holly Bush Inn near Hay and agreed to have a chat with us after we called her this afternoon. Barbara swims at least twice daily in the Wye - which runs at the foot of the grounds of her pub – and is the sole reason she decided to make her home there. As well as swimming near constantly herself, with plans to swim the length of the river soon for charity, Barbara is an amazing exponent for outdoor swimming as a whole. She told us about how just today she had taken several groups of people to the river and introduced them safely to outdoor swimming. She took a honeymooning couple to a private spot for skinny dipping and a family of wild swimming virgins to a safe space where they could enjoy the water safely. She told us about watching this family take their first river swim, about how they were thrilled by the freedom of the fresh water and of just getting in without care. Her absolute passion for swimming was clear, and when she took us to her beach of shingle and stone at the bottom of her garden, where the water flowed lazily and the evening’s first bats were appearing, it was difficult not to just throw ourselves in. We didn’t, but we have arranged to return for a full moon swim there with Barbara as soon as we can.

Becca