It’s Always Wet in the Water
A different adventure with the Yorkshire water nymphs
Every Friday morning, sleet or sunshine, these women arrange to go swimming. There have been times that truly awful weather has put them off, but that doesn’t happen as much as you think it would. Or maybe, in fact, as much as it should. As I mentioned in Swimming with Salmon, my mother is one of these water nymphs. I was wondering why the freezing cold and pouring rain doesn’t put them off and when I was told the reason I couldn't help but feel daft. The response I got was “it’s always wet in the water”. Cold too, but I think that is a given. That’s me told!
This Friday is a bit different to most weeks, but I didn’t know this was going to be the case. Most weeks they venture to somewhere close, but this week was going to be an adventure.
These nymphs use a Facebook group to stay connected to one another. They use this group to share their experiences, talk about new spots they’ve found and arrange swims all year round. This week we’re going to one of these new spots. I hop in the car completely oblivious to what is going on. I have my notebook, camera and a completely free morning but what I don’t yet have is an ability to stay awake or particularly string a sentence together because I woke up half an hour ago. I did ask to come along today, I just didn’t think we’d be leaving so abruptly. I haven’t even had a coffee. All I know at this moment is that I’m going to take some photos of some women swimming around in ice-cold water.
As we drive in the opposite direction to expected, I have some questions to ask. Where are we going? Where’s that? Near where? The answers to which are “We’re going to meet Leslie’s car near the Bay Horse and drive in convoy to a place called Midgley”, “West Yorkshire” and “Hebden Bridge”. This is about a 40 minute drive away, so I pop a podcast on and patiently sit in the passenger seat, drifting in and out of car sleep. As we drive into West Yorkshire we go through Keighley, a former mill and market town on the way to Bradford surrounded by smaller villages — one of which was home to the famous Bronte family. We drive up and out of Keighley, slowly climbing up into the fog that sits on the moors surrounding the town. We’re up on Oxenhope moor and the visibility is terrible. The car’s high beams are burning through the morning fog, revealing a windy road to be carefully followed. The distant lights of other car headlights show that we are not alone. A sign wrapped in the murky film of the morning fog appears at the side of the road that reads ‘Welcome to Calderdale’. I guess we’ve entered Calderdale.
Once we get to Midgley the woman that my mum has been in contact with on Facebook (Jane) appears and flashes her lights at us, requesting us to follow. We follow to a rural track, park up and move onwards. By this point the morning fog has started to burn off, the valley beneath us is revealed and we are shown how beautiful a location we are actually in. We are incredibly high up on the edge of the valley looking down onto Hebden Bridge in a place that some of us have never been and it is absolutely stunning. I don’t know what the frogs-eye view would be like from the water, but I can only think that it would be breathtaking.
I’m cold just looking at them. I have a woolly hat and 4 layers on and they’re stripping down to their bathing suits. I admirably watch on as they wade confidently into the water with their woolly hats and swimming costumes on and without a moment’s hesitation. I never thought I’d hear endorphins rush around a body in my life because I didn't think it possible, but as I hear a discordent chorus of the word ‘no’ arise from these women shortly followed by laughs of pure ecstasy I think that I may have heard it. Now that they’re water-based, I don’t want to disturb their fun. Quietly I skulk around the edges of the reservoir with my camera, trying not to disturb these wild creatures in their natural habitat as they glide through the water. The natural beauty of what is going on swells my heart as they really are enjoying being close to their environment and reaping the rewards.
This is very different to most weeks. Most weeks my mum and her merry band of water nymphs can be found much closer to home: on the banks of the River Wharfe somewhere between Ilkley and Bolton Abbey.
In late December it was announced that a stretch of the River Wharfe in Ilkley is the first stretch of any river in England to become a designated bathing site. What this means is that the Environment Agency will be monitoring pollution levels in this stretch of the river to ensure it’s safety to bathe in, holding those responsible for polluting the river…. responsible for their actions. While there are currently 12 inland designated bathing locations in England, these are all lakes. That this river is being designated this status means that care and attention is going to be needed to be paid to it by those who live and work near the river. Showing a greater respect for that which feeds our land can only be a good thing.
Rivers connect people and places, providing a common ground between people from different towns. The water enriches our soil and provides habitat and food for all types of fauna, and the banks of rivers all around the country have been the basis of some of our biggest towns. London, Bristol and Birmingham all have rivers that run through them, and this is not by accident. The land next to rivers is the most fertile and rich, perfect for animal grazing and crop growing. With beaver damming stopping sudden surges in flooding these lands were safe and protected, allowing communities to develop and people to thrive. By paying respect to our rivers we are paying respect to our cultural heritage and the basis of human civilisation. And if this also means we don’t get a rash on our backs after we go swimming? Even better.
