Swim summary: not as summery as before

I will do sincere penance to the data integrity gods for failing to keep these posts In Their Proper Order. I posted about Swim 12 (or non-swim, as it turned out) having left you with only a data fragment from #8. Bad monkey!

Now where were we? Swims 9-11 could be characterised by quiet seasonal changes, and taking opportunities as they present themselves.

Swim 9 was from the Secret Spot with L, on an intermediately cloudy Friday morning a couple of weeks ago. The water was cool (14º?), but didn't perturb us too much. This time no dope-smokers on the sluice-gate (all back at school going over the learning objectives for the year).  Some sunshine broke through here and there as we pottered upstream, reaching about 1 km from the start. And swooshed back down again, being regarded at one of the corners by the Big Brown Cow. Ducks and herons otherwise. Couple of submerged branches to contend with, which seemed to favour my (heavy?) legs rather than L's. A couple with a baby en papoose regarded us with a semi-interested expression as we clambered out. Until I fully emerged that is, and then they're off! Nothing like a naked ginger guy to disperse people, I find ;-).

Swim 10. The following week. Solo, from the Weir at 4pm. Bit earlier deliberately, to keep the sunset out of the equation. Weekday, so not much chance of muggles. Sunny, so there were a few. Get in without fuss, and puss along in the cool substance. Push the muscles along to generate some heat. The sun adopts a low position, and scatters its rays all around my grubby goggles. Floating apples, along with leafy debris, bump my nose, like Atlantic growlers along the hull of the craft. They give off yeasty, cider-like smells to warn of their approach.

I keep largely to breaststroke but insert some crappy bursts of what could pass for front crawl, keeping the breathing rate quite high. It occurs to me that I could improve my stroke given time and dedication. I seem to have got it to a basic level of competence now, with some ideas of what's going on within the cycle. I wonder if I will bother to adopt this as a project, or even cram in any pool swimming at all over the winter.

I do my usual mile, turning round at Trower's Bridge (28:16 upstream leg, 19:31 down).  Water a comparatively toasty 17ºC. The air temp was a few notches higher. The previous day even more, which had helped.

Swim 11. Earlier this week. Someone I vaguely knew popped up on one of the Facebook outdoor swim groups asking if there were any takers for a swim further up the Wey, at Thundry Meadows.

This spot is in the meadowy meandering territory west of here, in the Elstead region. Having parked up on a tiny lay-by, and wandered through a slightly marshy approach (duckboards provided) I meet with B. How's it going man, have you seen X lately, done any more Y? 

The river is guarded by a corral of electric fence, which is there to keep the herd of youthful black and white bullocks (Belted Galloway I believe) from getting stuck over the quite steep bank.  Cattle like river banks as we know. We walk up to the entry point he's found, beyond a gate. He's got this fancy IR non-contact thermometer, and takes a reading in the low teens (12º?). In we go and down we paddle with the fairly brisk flow. The water is clearer too, and combed by snakey weeds. Hardly any floating leaf fall, in contrast to the Godalming reaches. The sun catches what look like floating sand crystals, but are actually resting insects. The meanders and various trees being half-in half-out mean that although the swimming isn't hard work, navigation is actively required. I think we do that for no more than 20 minutes, maybe less, escorted for some of the way by a fleet of nearly grown up ducks. The only other spectator is one of the bullocks who's found an easy beach to slurp the river from. He's up to his knees (or ankles, I'm not well up on bovine anatomy) with a dirty face. He stops his slurping to regard us going by. There is sunshine on every other twist, but it feels like a stolen margin of summer rather than the legitimate article.

B's been using the river for weeks it transpires. He tells me the spot was, over the high summer, frequented by a tiny amount of people, a few walkers and even some (female) skinny dippers (so we are not the only ones). An angler, the owner of the third vehicle in "our" lay-by, casts and draws, or whatever the fly-fishing term is, around 500 m downstream. When the ducks are quiet we can just about hear his ratchet whirring. The trees whisper whatever they whisper about. Cars whizz by on the road behind the trees, charging back home to Farnham after their day's work.

The exit is fun. Up the steep bank onto the lawn-like margin. Then under the electric fence, propping it up with a forked stick B has found/made. He hides that in a wood pile and we walk back to the start where I've left all my clobber. I'm thankful for the lush grass that the Galloways are happily munching, having left the usual Crocs back at home. It's nice to walk along with nothing on, being warmed by the sun, but when it goes behind a tree I'm reminded that it's nearly October, and lingering is out of the question. Thanks too for the Thermos. I will also bless the gods of nothingness, for keeping the vacuum that kept my tea warm.

Non-swim 12

Yesterday's swim turned out to be a series of failed attempts. 

4pm, earlier than the August swims. To the Weir (usual spot - see previous blog posts), past *dozens* of walkers on the path. Not a good thing in my book.  A few boats including an odd looking narrowboat with a tall flue moored up at the Manor Inn beer garden.

Ugh what's this? Mystery oil slick on the water was off-putting, and spent ages inspecting it from the bank (bet it was out of the leaky engine of the antique narrowboat having passed through earlier), and then when I'd made the decision to go in anyway (Water: 14ºC), an angler turned up and stood right there casting, which put me off again. I asked him about whether he's noticed the oil slick. "Tench, perch sometimes", came the reply, in a sort of Polish accent. er, let's try again.

Cycled along the towpath to the secret upstream spot, well beyond the reach of boats. Which wasn't that secret: occupied by 2 or more boisterous yooofs yelling at each other. And that was the allotted hour gone. Still, it was a fairly nice randonée. 

I'll tell you about Swim 11 when I get a chance. In-tress-ting.

Swim 8 data fragment

An earlier start, but otherwise mostly the same as swim 7.
Upstream leg: 28:32; downstream: 19:31. 48:03 over 1650 m.
16 °C.
Total to date: 9100 m.

Swim 7, getting cooler, faster, and later

6:25 pm. I repeat the same swim as reported last time, and more or less the time before that. We've had a cooler day, sort of overcast at times, so I wasn't expecting crowds of people on the bank.

Fresh earplugs in really tightly (don't want waterlogged ears any more than necessary), goggles on and wade in. Noticeably colder! I emit a sort of a hooff-hooff-hooff effect getting started, but there's no profanity. After five minutes the internal register goes from cold to cool, as I generate some heat.

There are a few ducks, which take off during the initial splashing. After that it's just me and the midges. There may be people on the bank, I don't know. Firstly I'm concentrating on the stroke (alternating breast stroke and crawl) and secondly my earplugs are too effective for chit chat.

Despite the slightly autumnal feel, it's a pleasant atmosphere. The sun tries to break out now and again, and illuminates the eastern bank with pale gold. Some of the trees have golden tinges anyway, rather than green. If there are fish, I can't see them. A few insects bother the water, but no birds are feeding on them tonight. Other birds get ready for bed. It's good to think about not much except flowing through water, the breath, and the passing of time. Daily thoughts from the inbox try and cling to my mind, but I'm adept at letting them float behind me.

Passing the Manor Inn beer garden slash play park, a gaggle of small kids laugh and wave. I wave back. I make Trowers bridge at 28:30. Back down to the start in 19 minutes or so. I wave, but not talk to quite a few joggers, some in large clumps (I think it's Waverley Harriers), plus a few other random walkers, runners and cyclists. All moving along at speed, going places, no Pokemon gathering, blackberry picking or loitering tonight.

I had the fish tied up on the side. 16 degrees C.

So that's another 1650 m, total now 7450 m. I might have to borrow a few days from September to make the August 10 km target!  Busy work week coming up. The next swim might have to be the morning, or even closer to sunset.

As I pedal home, I have the lights on. Another sign of the season starting to turn.

Swim to Space 5 data dump

Rather than a wordy post about the latest swim, here's some Big Data.

Date 27/08/2016, Time: 09:34
Grid Reference: SU 989453 to SU 983449 and back
Duration : Upstream : 30 minutes
Duration : Downstream : 21 minutes
Distance : 1650 m
Swimming Total to date : 4150 m

Cyclists : 8
Walkers (dog, blackberry picking, or generic) : 20
- talkative : 5 (other than hello/grunt)
- "amazing how delightful, may I take a picture?" : 1
Dogs (swimming) : 2
Canoes : 2
Narrow boats : 1 (approx 10 on board)
Other swimmers : 0

Fish : Unknown
Geese : 10
Ducks : 4
Heron : 2
?Swallows : 25
Feeding on : tiny little insects on the surface : 10^5
Sunshine : yes
Clouds : yes
Magic : yes

Swim to Space 4

River Wey 30 minutes, 18 C. 900 m.

Cycle via Broadwater Park and Lake (the former full of people enjoying the sun, the latter the usual fowl and blue-green algae), to the usual getting in spot, having left it late to avoid the gangs of Pokemon harvesters. Thankfully we seem to be past the peak on that one. But wait, there's an angler sitting there. Don't want to get involved with him, or experience any collision of tackle.

Pedal up and down for a bit to see what the rest of the bank is like. Limited choice, due to the many reedy clumps (of which I approve - more shelter for wild things). Also, survey the stream connecting the lake and the river. It looks a teeny bit grimy and green, but not too algae-ridden. A bunch of little black fry (young fish) are busy gobbling up the nutrients from there, so that's some algae taken care of. Mental note to steer to the opposite bank when passing this outflow.

Having picked a spot, wade in. Wow it's really warm, compared to the last few times. Fix googles and ears, and paddle across. Tie the thermometer to hanging branch.

Plan is to go upstream for 20 minutes, and down for 10, and to see where that takes me. Back here hopefully.

This section is a series of bends, all roughly the same geometry. It could be natural, I don't know, but it's also part of the Wey navigation. There are some houses on the town side, but it's all fields to the south-east. Elsewhere on the Wey, there are distinct canal sections cutting corners and leaving the natural river to meander behind the cuts. See blogs passim.

The flow is not arduous today, so upstream work is quite acceptable. The sun glows on certain patches, and hides behind the taller trees. I'm facing it so when I'm sunlit I can just see lens flare. Floating leaves try and cover my face. There are occasional clouds of insects, but they are all little harmless ones. I don't notice any birds or big fish. I have to dodge one pleasure craft. As suspected it's too late in the day for hire boats from the Boat House.

Talk to a pair of passers-by (muggles?). Mum is amazed that there's someone actually in there. Wow! You're swimming? Is it clean? Do you do triathlons? (Me: Yes I am, yes I think it is, no just free range things). [To 15 y-o daughter] you should do this maybe. (Yes you should).

As sort of predicted, I make it as far as the beer garden of the Manor Inn, where they have a mooring place. Too many people, quick turn around. And the time is getting on. Much easier on the way back, because of the current obviously, but also swimming stroke is more organised. Lose count of the bends, it seems they've put an extra chicane in since I came up. Ah there's the orange rubber fish on my thermometer, I'm nearly there. Untie it, holding the string in my teeth as I swim back across to the left bank. Get out on schedule.

There are not too many days left in August to build up 10 km! This swim : 900 m (with a liberal application of trig to work out the distance). Total to date 1800. I'd better include Swim to Space 3 : umpteen laps of a tiny pool at our holiday apartment in Crete. For which I will book in a very generous 700 m (30 C!) for the whole week. 2500 m total.

I need two swims like this per day to reach the target.

Swimming to Space 1 and 2

v2

I volunteered myself to be part of a group at work running, cycling, swimming and other forms of effort to raise money for Surrey Air Ambulance.  Please head over to our money-gathering page to demonstrate support. The basic idea is that as a group we can build up 400 km, which just happens to be the distance to the ISS (when vertically overhead of course). The money goes to SAA because they lifted one of our colleagues out of trouble having sustained a big cycling injury.

Here's our Race To Space entry on the main Race to Space site.

Swim 1

To a Secret Spot in Godalming with book-group friend Liz (who once mentioned the idea of wild swimming and got me for an answer). Regular readers of this blog will know that I've dabbled, more than dabbled, in the outdoor swimming lark in the past. Sadly, all my Godalming swimmer friends have swum off elsewhere, so glad to have company again.

Monday night. Overcast, slight drizzle. Having locked the bikes, down to the river. It's got a tendency to look overgrown and deserted on this bit of the meadow (quite near Peperharow Road) but it's quite well used. Students from Charterhouse traipse through here all the time, and it's a good jogging and dogwalking route.

At the nose of a meander, there's a little sandy beach, wide enough for one. Once prepared, we wade in, pausing to tie the thermometer to a bramble. It shelves steeply, so there's no standing up allowed. We go upstream. Hands get quite chilly for a couple of minutes. No swearing necessary, but I wish I could stand to wave them about. The flow is reasonably quick. Water is sandy, but generally free of debris.

There are various weirs and ditches along the Wey to control the flow. At the point where the ditch draws off some water there's a concrete construction. Good enough for smallish group of teenagers to sit on, while they smoke their, um, smoking materials.

Is it cold in there?  

Chilly I would say.

I would never do that!!

On we go, dodging submerged branches occasionally. Breast stroke hardly gets one anywhere, so I try a few blasts of crawl. We eventually make it to another obvious corner, where's there's another copy of the sandy nose, walk out and peek around. We can see a meadow and some farm vehicles.

Going back the other way is much easier. We go sideways round the bends as the current carries us. Clamber out, and check the temperature. 16 or 17 degrees C it says.

Google maps measurement : 560 m.

Swim 2

Wednesday Lunchtime. Bright and breezy. Cycle along the towpath to check water conditions.

Past a usual entry spot opposite the weir, and onwards.  I'm curious about the twisty natural path of the Wey, as opposed to the Navigation which is straight and orderly.  The section I'm talking about is 1.5 km downstream of Farncombe boat house.  It's a bit impractical to get to the natural section at thw weir itself, so I keep going to where the two streams merge, near Broadford Bridge.  After a bit of scouting I pick an entry spot.

The bottom is rocky, and I'm glad of my Crocs.  This time I carry the thermometer, and tie it to a branch once I've made it across the width of the canal.  The flow is strong, and the river is not that wide (certainly no wider than a canal) so I have to pump to keep ahead.

Although it's not really natural, it's a lot more nature-like than the canalised river. Quite a bit of debris on the water, but all harmless: bits of tree and grass, and quite a few downy feathers. Quick list of detectable fauna: cows, dragonflies, geese, a kingfisher (or at least a glistening green missile, so must have been) and a heron or two.  There's almost nowhere to get back up the bank, since the trees have colonised the margin.

I push along until I think I've had enough, and also not wanting to get too close to the geese, who are having a flapping session on the water. It also starts to smell/taste a bit, well, ducky.

Swoosh back to the start point, effortlessly.

Then clamber out, eroding the bank slightly, oops!

The NT, owners of this stretch of towpath, have been beefing up the banks, leaving wires exposed in some cases. Thereby perversely encouraging more erosion on the parts they haven't staked and braced.

Swimming time about 20 minutes altogether. Thermometer reads 17 ºC. 400 m on the map (which also shows I have so much more to explore).

Total so far 960 m.

_ Swimming to Space 1 and 2

I volunteered myself to be part of a group at work running, cycling, swimming and other forms of effort to raise money for Surrey Air Ambulance.  Please head over to our money-gathering page to demonstrate support. The basic idea is that as a group we can build up 400 km, which just happens to be the distance to the ISS (when vertically overhead of course). The money goes to SAA because they lifted one of our colleagues out of trouble having sustained a big cycling injury.

Here's our Race To Space entry on the main Race to Space site.

Swim 1

To a Secret Spot in Godalming with book-group friend Liz (who once mentioned the idea of wild swimming and got me for an answer). Regular readers of this blog will know that I've dabbled, more than dabbled, in the outdoor swimming lark in the past. Sadly, all my Godalming swimmer friends have swum off elsewhere, so glad to have company again.

Monday night. Overcast, slight drizzle. Having locked the bikes, down to the river. It's got a tendency to look overgrown and deserted on this bit of the meadow (quite near Peperharow Road) but it's quite well used. Students from Charterhouse traipse through here all the time, and it's a good jogging and dogwalking route.

At the nose of a meander, there's a little sandy beach, wide enough for one. Once prepared, we wade in, pausing to tie the thermometer to a bramble. It shelves steeply, so there's no standing up allowed. We go upstream. Hands get quite chilly for a couple of minutes. No swearing necessary, but I wish I could stand to wave them about. The flow is reasonably quick. Water is sandy, but generally free of debris.

There are various weirs and ditches along the Wey to control the flow. At the point where the ditch draws off some water there's a concrete construction. Good enough for smallish group of teenagers to sit on, while they smoke their, um smoking materials.

Is it cold in there?  

Chilly I would say.

I would never do that!!

On we go, dodging submerged branches occasionally. Breast stroke hardly gets one anywhere, so I try a few blasts of crawl. We eventually make it to another obvious corner, where's there's another copy of the sandy nose, walk out and peek around. We can see a meadow and some farm vehicles.

Going back the other way is much easier. We go sideways round the bends as the current carries us. Clamber out, and check the temperature. 16 or 17 degrees C it says.

Google maps measurement : 560 m.

Swim 2

Wednesday Lunchtime. Bright and breezy. Cycle along the towpath to check water conditions.

Past a usual entry spot opposite the weir, and onwards.  I'm curious about the twisty natural path of the Wey, as opposed to the Navigation which is straight and orderly.  The section I'm talking about is 1.5 km downstream of Farncombe boat house.  It's a bit impractical to get to the natural section at thw weir itself, so I keep going to where the two streams merge, near Broadford Bridge.  After a bit of scouting I pick an entry spot.

The bottom is rocky, and I'm glad of my Crocs.  This time I carry the thermometer, and tie it to a branch once I've made it across the width of the canal.  The flow is strong, and the river is not that wide (certainly no wider than a canal) so I have to pump to keep ahead.

Although it's not really natural, it's a lot more nature-like than the canalised river. Quite a bit of debris on the water, but all harmless: bits of tree and grass, and quite a few downy feathers. Quick list of detectable fauna: cows, dragonflies, geese, a kingfisher (or at least a glistening green missile, so must have been) and a heron or two.  There's almost nowhere to get back up the bank, since the trees have colonised the margin.

I push along until I think I've had enough, and also not wanting to get to close to the geese, who are having a flapping session on the water. It also starts to smell/taste a bit, well, ducky.

Swoosh back to the start point, effortlessly.

Then clamber out, eroding the bank slightly, oops!

The NT, owners of this stretch of towpath, have been beefing up the banks, leaving wires exposed in some cases. Thereby perversely encouraging more erosion on the parts they haven't staked and braced.

Swimming time about 20 minutes altogether. Thermometer reads 17 ºC. 400 m on the map (which also shows I have so much more to explore).

Total so far 960 m.