Waterlog Reswum Welcome to Waterlog Reswum
Hello and welcome to Waterlog Reswum. This blog is all about following in the front crawl of Roger Deakin, swimming in the rivers, bays, streams and lidos he visited in his seminal book Waterlog. My mission is to experience the waters as Roger did, writing about and photographing them, exploring how they have changed and how attitudes to outdoor swimming have shifted since Waterlog’s publication.
“During the 1920s there was a gang of boys and market-traders in Norwich who used to swim in the River Wensum and dive off the bridges for small change.” The pace could be politely described as mean as we turn off of the main road and along the Marriott Way, skirting an industrial estate and the greenish waters of the Wensum, just outside of Norwich. Tim, Molly and I are on a… Read More
“Just downstream from Denver Sluice, a gigantic arrangement of lock gates that controls the main outlet of the Fen river system, I swam the Great Ouse, which runs out to the sea at King’s Lynn.” Our bags heavy with wet swimming gear, Well Creek and Middle Level Main Drain behind us, Tim and I drive east to Salters Lode and a date with Denver Sluice. Crossing Well Creek, we walk along the… Read More
“I drove on west … through Salters Lode and Nordelph to Well Creek, where I bathed in the Middle Level Drain in the evening sunshine.” The rumble of an HGV is the only sound I can hear as I slip off of the retaining wall and into Middle Level Main Drain. Plastic bottles, clinging to the waters edge, bob and slurp as I push myself against the current and into the main… Read More
“I arrived at Hathersage in time for a pre–lunch dip in the village swimming pool, an open–air, heated lido set high on a hillside with spectacular views of the Peaks on all sides.” There’s steam rising as I skip up the narrow steps of Hathersage Swimming Pool, hand over my entrance fee and catch sight of the water for the first time. The day is grey and foggy, the temperature on the… Read More
“The deep, natural water of the Highgate Men’s Pond the following day was considerably colder than the cosseted High Point pool had been at the end of September. It is a marvellous second–best to Highgate Ladies’ Pond for a swim.” The temperature was up and London felt giddy. And so I slung my still–damp swimming shorts and a towel in my rucksack and jumped on the train to Kentish Town, walking briskly… Read More
“A vigorous mill–race sped through one of the arches, darting its turbulence far out into a wide black pool which whirled evenly between dense banks of reeds and watercress. It could have been a scene from Constable. I had arrived at John’s Water.” OS Map perched on my knee, we trundle down the single track road, the River Bure burbling to our right. Spotting the Mill Cottage and then the open–fronted cart… Read More
“We made for the surf across the almost deserted beach and half–waded, half–walked into the sun towards Scolt Head and Burnham Overy Staithe” Lifting ourselves over the dunes, Burnham Overy Staithe behind us, we get our first peep across the empty beach on this wild stretch of north Norfolk coastline. We’ve ambled along the dyke for an hour, spotting oystercatchers and little egrets picking their way through Overy Marsh, battling the brisk… Read More
“Five minutes out of the village down a waterside path, I was alone in the meadows on the brink of a wide, cold-water swimming hole, scene of the noisy reunion of the wandering offspring of Mother Test. Slightly to my surprise, there were no fishermen about, so I hurled myself straight in. The water made me gasp.” The sun completes its disappearing act just as we finish cobbling together our… Read More
“I drove out of Lincolnshire across country, past Sherwood Forest and Nottingham, to the southern extremities of the English highlands in the Peak District of Derbyshire, where the rivers Derwent, Wye and Dove flow down to join the Trent in the Humber at Hull.” The air is damp as we pull on our boots for the short tramp from the front door of our sprawling holiday home in the middle of Edale… Read More
“Scaling the sand dunes, I ran down the deserted beach, flung off my clothes and waded into the surf.” Light winds, leaden skies and brown, churning sea. Walberswick in late October. Past the public loos, through the warren of beach huts, over the dunes and onto the beach. After weeks without a swim, my cast finally off and my wrist free, I should feel more energised about going for a dip. Instead,… Read More
Waterlog Reswum 