If Carlsberg did weekends...

Laughter, connection, and a job in Antarctica...

Feb 02, 2024

Memories

Facebook memories are a funny thing.

Sometimes they jolt you with a force you are not ready for, particularly if there are reminders of loved ones no longer in our lives. Sometimes, however, they make your heart sing…and so it was this week.

This time last year, I experienced one of the most magical weekends of my life - a SwimWild WinterFest in the Scottish Highlands. Now I am no stranger to ice swimming. Although I don’t write much about it here, my first book is all about the relationship with women and water around the world, and I love nothing more than to take a dip in my bikini in the snow, (even if it’s with a rose between my teeth and a hammer to break ice on Valentine’s Day) but something about that particular weekend fundamentally touched my soul.

I wrote an article for Outdoor Swimmer magazine which spoke about the fun and frolics, the night time swim with fairy lights on our head, swimming in ice channels then jumping in a sauna, sharing stories and hot chocolate and so much more, but as I look back at the memories, there are other things that really stand out for me and help me to understand what heals my soul in a week when it really needs some healing. It was a weekend that taught me what really matters.

What brought the elements of magic?

These are the ingredients for me:

Laughter

There is something about the open water that brings a child-like sense of giddiness. It is totally bonkers, and often fucking hilarious. There are plenty of scientific articles about the dopamine release with cold water swimming (caveat: be sensible, know what you’re doing, get acclimatised - says the sensible air traffic controller), so I won’t regurgitate all that…but whatever the science, it just makes you smile like you have a happy banana lodged sideways in your mouth. During that weekend there was so much laughter. We were probably only in the water for less than 10 minutes in total in three days, so it wasn’t all about the water; there was a gorgeous winter stories afternoon, where we shared, wrote, read out our work and laughed; and spent evenings in the bar with hot toddies and new friends and laughed some more. Transported to a world so far removed from our everyday we could experience childlike, unrestricted, joy.

Adventure

The wonder of going our of our comfort zone - even for me. It was the first time ever I’d swam in zero degree water, and, I had brought Himself with me (more on that below). Whilst he is a swift water rescue technician and an international rescue worker, he does NOT swim in the cold (without a dry suit), so it was totally new to us as a couple being together in this environment. Ever since interviewing an Antarctic Ice Mile swimmer for my first book I have yearned to swim in zero degree water (and I still want to swim in the Antarctic!!). Just before entering icy water, there is that magical sense of anticipation, a.k.a. ‘what the fuck am I doing?’, and then…you’re in, and from that moment you are invincible (or just bloody cold, but you get my drift).

Courage

It feels naughty, it feels forbidden, it feels brave. It doesn’t get much more exposing than being nearly naked with a load of strangers in a deep lake in the snow. However, during the indoor winter stories session I did something far more terrifying for me, and read an excerpt of Breaking Waves to a room full of people for the first time. In my former life I presented to audiences all over the world on subjects such as cyber security, airspace redesign and even ‘flying taxis’ (yep, really); but to read MY words from MY book in front of actual people? Absolutely terrifying.

Afterwards I had a queue of people waiting to speak with me. It was a queue of three, but it was still a queue. I studied queueing theory at Uni. I know my frozen onions.

Connection

Probably the thing closest to my heart, and that which drives me to write in the way that I do. Connection. Connection to nature in the most intimate way possible, feeling the elements with every cell in my body and soul. Connection to myself - to what brings me joy, to overcoming adversity, and to what lights my darkness. Connection to others…

This was a weekend of new friends and old. The brilliant swim guides, the crazy crabs, - people I am bonded to now and forever. The woman I spoke with on the beach at sunrise - we had both snuck down there to get some quiet time before everyone else awoke, and found ourselves sharing the most deep and profound moments about our grief and life experiences, before heading off to breakfast with a hug and a sense of knowing a part of each other that even those closest to us may never reach.

Photo credits: some mine, others (the good ones) Jonathon Doyle Media

As we said goodbye to those we had newly met, we went on to visit some of our oldest friends - the friends you see maybe once a year and every time is like you saw them yesterday. Friends you are always connected to even without contact. Four of us who met as trainee air traffic controllers 25 years ago, and who became friends, lived and worked together, who got married in the same year, who had children that are now like cousins (even though Taz and Fiver have no actual cousins), and who laughed until we cried over my ‘English’ pronunciation of Scottish words read from a tea towel pinned to the wall. Magic moments indeed.

And then there was time for ‘us’. Just Himself and I. On the third morning, we woke up to an entirely different landscape. Having driven into a Christmas card on day one, and hacked through ice to reach the water, on day three we woke up to a world of greenery - there had been a 12 degree temperature rise overnight. A local told us is goes like that - sometimes ‘God’s hairdryer’ blows over the landscape. He wasn’t wrong.

Me and he

A few years back, Himself and I went through a particularly tricky patch. Actually ‘tricky’ is putting it mildly as we had gone as far as telling Fiver and Taz that we were separating - but it just goes to show what you can come back from.

As we were working through things, I clearly remember the marriage counsellor asking us ‘what is the most important thing in your life?’. ‘THE CHILDREN!!’ I blurted out before she had even finished the sentence, which is unsurprisingly the most common response from mothers. She gently pointed out that we had existed as an ‘us’ before the children came along, and we would exist as an ‘us’ once they had flown the nest. If we wanted to have a future together, perhaps it was time to adjust the hierarchy of importance.

How curious. Does not compute.

We are so ingrained, not just societally, but chemically, hormonally, evolutionarily to put our children first - to protect, love, nurture, save…it can be so easy for the parents to become collateral damage to the rigours of life and child rearing. I honestly marvel that divorce rates aren’t higher. And sometimes that is the right thing, sometimes relationships rightly run their course, for sure, but sometimes they just need a reset, and a reminder of who you were and can once more be. [updated post:

Clover Stroud

wrote a brilliant article on this subject just this week (August 2024)].

So having managed to rediscover each other over the following couple of years, instead of cajoling my swim buddies for another brilliant girly adventure, or going alone (as I often do to meet new people and kindred spirits), I asked him if he’d come with me. I wanted him to share the experience of that which has become so dear to me - to gain an insight into the draw of the ice, to feel the heart of the open water community. And feel it he did, from me holding his hand as we entered the icy water, to him being by my side as I did my first public reading from my ‘book in waiting’, it was truly wonderful.

He introduced me to fire-breakers and fine Scottish Whisky (I couldn’t drink it), and I introduced him to…well…as I wrote in the article:

He may have expected a weekend of whisky and getting frisky, but instead, less than 24 hours after leaving their home in the South of England, he’d been in zero degree water twice, in just his swim shorts - with fairy lights on his head.

You can decide who got the raw deal.

We walked in the hills, and whilst he did not swim again, he stayed on the bank - watching and protecting me as I entered unfamiliar waters and felt the wonder of apricity flowing through me. It reminded me of how safe he makes me feel, and what a gift that is.

Can I go and live in Antarctica?

Fast forward to this year, 2024, and our little unit of 4 is bobbing along very nicely, when I get sent a link to a job as a radio operator at the Rothera Research Station, Antarctica. It has my name written all over it. Based in the ‘operations tower’ in one of the most ‘exhilarating and spectacular workplaces you could imagine’.

Job criteria:

rapidly prioritise tasks and remain calm under pressure - yep - been an air traffic controller
aptitude for learning - yep - have a masters with Distinction
ability to pass a radio operators certificate of competence - er…hello…

At dinner, I mention it to Himself, Taz and Fiver. Initial dismissal of the idea forces me to emphasise why I am so well qualified. Slight raised eyebrows around the table. ‘But guys it’s PERFECT for me - I am literally qualified for the role, and I could get to swim in the Antarctic Ocean - I mean how cool is that?!?! I’d only have to be away from October to March - you’ll barely notice I’m gone.’

It makes absolute sense to me.

When they realise I’m not going to go quiet about it, Taz wearily raises her head - ‘you do know I’m doing my GCSEs next summer, and possibly European Gym Championships this October in Azerbaijan’. Hmm, yes I do know that.

[I consider that I could help remotely with revision and request a week off in October.]

Meanwhile, Fiver’s eyes have expanded beyond the realms of her face as she contemplates that I might actually be serious about going away for a length of time.

Himself still isn’t taking me seriously, although I actually am quite serious - whilst simultaneously knowing that it is impossible for me to go. The level to which I am considering it and have already half-written the application form reminds me to chase my own ADHD referral.

I submit that they are right and that I can’t go this year, but note to self that the year after might work…

I mean it’s Antarctica, right???!!!

mountain with snow near body of water — Photo by henrique setim on Unsplash

Meanwhile…

Whilst I put my Antarctic dreams on ice (see what I did there?), Himself packs his bag and heads off to cold weather rescue and avalanche training in the Arctic Circle portion of Sweden. Next time I’m gonna find an excuse to tag along. When we speak he tells me how he did a ‘fall in a freezing lake’ rescue scenario, and how what we did in the Highlands made him so much more mentally equipped to do it. I ask him how it was. ‘Deep’ he replies.

He can be a man of few words.

After they crawl their way out of the water, they are instructed to roll in snow. It makes the water freeze then it can be broken off so they get dry quickly. Apparently at this time of year where the air temperature is minus 20 to minus 30 degrees, the locals hang their washing outside. It freezes almost instantly, they beat the snow off, and then it’s dry. Remarkable.

I note that doing laundry when I’m working in the Antarctic will be easy.

I love how our weekend in the Highlands has somehow given Himself a grounding for what he is experiencing this week, and when we speak I hear those same elements for him - laughter, adventure, courage, connection.

My heart feels full, and happy, and I think about how I will try and take these elements into my everyday, how I will be brave, who I will connect with, the joy of laughter and where to seek adventure…who knows…I might even sneak in an application form to the Antarctic Research Centre whilst I’m feeling brave. Just don’t tell.

What are the elements that feed your soul? What would your magical weekend look like?

I’d love to hear