The Day of the Championships
‘Holly?’ Stevie called from the bathroom, where she had been staring in dismay at the bags under her eyes. This mirror was surely faulty. She couldn’t believe how saggy her whole face looked this morning. Was that the alcohol from last night? Or the level of stress that had peaked yesterday following the cut-foot incident?
‘Yeh, what?’ said a sleepy voice from the single bed near the window.
‘Time to get up. We need to go and have breakfast or we’ll be late.’
‘Any word from Chris?’
A couple of minutes later, Holly appeared at the bathroom door yawning and stretching. She pushed Stevie to one side so that she too could examine her face. ‘God! Wish we’d done the fancy dress thing. We could have come as zombies!’
‘Hah! No, not heard a thing, have you?’
Holly shook her head and squeezed a blackhead out from the end of her nose.
‘Ugh Holly!’ complained Stevie, pulling a face. That was the trouble with sharing a room with someone: you got to see all their horrible habits. ‘Right, I’m going down like this.’
She pulled on jogging bottoms and a hoodie over her pyjamas.
‘Why not? Me, too,’ agreed Holly.
The B&B was like a home away from home. The owners were a couple who both swam in the loch, so were in tune with the needs of outdoor swimmers, and offered relaxed, warm, and reasonably priced accommodation, complete with delicious home-cooked breakfasts to suit all, whatever the preferences or dietary requirements.
The dining room was busy, mostly with other swimmers. Excited conversations moved from table to table as everyone seemed to want to share information, experience, and recommendations for other places to swim in the area.
‘Are you nervous?’ asked Holly in between mouthfuls of delicious hash browns and beans.
Stevie, who had gone for the vegetarian sausage and hash browns, shook her head. She just felt strangely numb. What would be would be. Her reactions had already been stretched to the limit and she was feeling drained of emotion and energy.
Fortunately, there was endless coffee along with a huge temptation to sit and wallow in post breakfast slumber and conversation. Holly, on the other hand, was clearly twitchy and nervous. She kept looking at her watch. Stevie preferred not to look at the clock on the dining room wall too often; she had resigned herself to the possibility that Chris would not get there in time.
‘I think I’ve forgotten how to swim. I’m that nervous!’ joked Holly as they walked back up to their room.
‘You’ll be great,’ said Stevie. ‘You’re a strong swimmer, remember.’ In the back of her mind, she knew there was something she had to mention about the race itself to Holly. Oh, yes, she remembered now. Holly’s phone pinged and when she didn’t say who it was from, Stevie assumed it was Simon wishing her luck. Time to ditch the pjs, get dressed for action, and check she had everything she needed with her for the race and immediately afterwards.
‘I think when we get down to the venue, I’ll go and grab a couple of those people who offered to be in our team. This not knowing is just too much!’ Then Stevie frowned. It was only an hour and a half before the race briefing started. Chris wasn’t just cutting it very fine, he was likely going to miss it. She glanced down at her phone and there was a notification. Chris had messaged her; how had she missed it? He confirmed that he’d reached Harrogate safely, had grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep, then turned his car round and was heading back up. It looked as if he’d sent it at about three a.m., but for some reason it had only just arrived on Stevie’s phone.
‘There you are then! I told you he was coming,’ said Holly when Stevie read the message out. Now, it was Stevie’s turn to feel nervous. He was on his way, did she get two swimmers ready to race, or just one? And she felt another emotion too: gratitude that he was doing what he said he’d do and he was doing it for her.
As they left the B&B and walked down the road, they could hear loudspeakers making announcements, music interrupting the voices, and the general sound of a busy event starting to gather pace. The Yorkshire swimmers had already set off to stake their claim on the terraces so they could watch the other teams racing. They’d be easy enough to find in their matching teapot bobble hats all hand knitted by a clever member of the team.
Stevie left her rucksack with Holly who had squeezed in between the teapots. As she worked her way back through the groups of swim cloaks, she couldn’t believe how many of them there were at the event. All those smiley, bobble-hatted adults in one place, all here for one reason: to freeze themselves in a cold Scottish loch in the middle of winter. Crazy? Probably.
She caught a not unpleasant whiff of barbeque smoke, mixed with a good dose of lighter fuel or petrol, as she reached the area behind the terrace. Here, there were several fire pits and one enormous hot tub, like a swimming pool, all prepped and ready for cold swimmers to warm themselves up in.
A vibration in her swim cloak pocket prompted her to unzip it and pull out her mobile. Hoping it would be Chris confirming he had arrived, she was disappointed to see a message from her Internet service provider, reminding her to claim her free gifts for February or she’d lose them. Who cared? She deleted the message with an irritated swipe left.
She spotted the man who had said he was up for swimming in a relay although he was also doing the 400-metre event a little later in the day. Awkward! It was so difficult to judge whether she needed him now, but when he walked over to her with his arms out to hug her in a swimmer’s hug, it seemed easier to hug back and say, ‘Yes, please! See you at the briefing.’
He nodded and went off to change.
Just as she was walking back towards the rows of swim cloaks, she heard a shout from behind her. It was a woman. Spinning round, she was shocked to see Angela running towards her.
‘I’m here, I’m here!’ called her excited friend. Behind her was a large-framed man carrying a huge bag. That must be her husband, Ed, thought Stevie in complete astonishment and confusion.
‘But what are you doing here?’ asked Stevie, squeezing Angela tightly in a hug.
‘I’ve come to swim, of course,’ Angela said with a smile.
‘But—’ Stevie’s last words were inaudible because Holly’s voice drowned them out.
‘Angela! You made it! Ed, lovely to meet you.’
A bewildered Stevie was caught up in the round of hugs and handshakes. What the heck was going on?
‘Come on, Angela, you need to get changed,’ urged Holly. ‘Oh, and we’ve got a slight problem. Did you get my message?’
‘Yes, he’s happy to.’ Angela and Ed nodded in unison.
‘What?’ Stevie was completely confused now.
‘No time, sorry. Come on, you two.’ Holly virtually dragged the new arrivals off to the changing rooms, leaving Stevie standing on the grass with her mouth open.
Five minutes later, the three of them emerged. The only one not wearing a swim cloak, and probably the only person not wearing a swim cloak at the whole event, was Ed. Instead he had his old full-length wax cotton coat wrapped round his not insubstantial body. He was also barefoot and on his head was a black beanie that appeared to be smeared with mud. Stevie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Rural Cumbria comes to wild Loch Tay!
‘Go on, Ed, show her!’ squawked Angela and Holly in perfect harmony. As if that’s all the validation he needed, this solid farmer, more used to wearing the same practical work clothes day in day out, yanked open his coat and flashed a pair of parrot bright Speedos at Stevie, as if to say, ‘I’m ready and willing.’
‘Oh. My. God.’ Stevie covered her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. ‘But what…? Why?’ What the heck was Ed doing? It just didn’t make any sense at all. There was no time and no escape from the fact that she now had more members of the team than she needed. The irony of it!
‘Come on, Stevie. Briefing. We need to hurry!’ Holly pulled at Stevie’s hand to break her from a near catatonic state and all four made their way down through the swim cloaks to the small gazebo where there was a narrow bench, another couple of teams, and an official-looking young woman with a clipboard.
Angela gave Stevie a squeeze and a happy little grin, promising to tell her everything after their race.
‘Just getting my own back.’ Holly grinned wickedly. Stevie was completely helpless. Nothing made sense anymore. She gave up, did as she was told, and tried to focus on cold water and how she was going to pull her way through it as fast as she could. Next to her on the bench, Ed was drumming his hairy feet up and down on the decking, not from cold, but sheer terror. The poor man had probably never swum in cold water before. What on earth had possessed Angela and Holly – yes, Holly – she looked across at Holly who was sitting with a grin on her face next to Ed, muttering reassurances to him. What on earth had they been thinking to force this upon him?
Then the man she’d recruited at the last minute appeared, ready to take his place on the bench. Stevie apologised profusely and explained that she’d tried to find him and let him know that their team member had turned up after all and she was so sorry. He just shrugged his massive shoulders and wandered off into the sea of swim cloaks. Once he’d gone, she took a moment to take a few deep breaths.
Stop it, she told herself. Just trust them. You can make a scene, pull out of the race, or just do as you’re told. But just don’t be a prat. She forced herself to focus on what the lady with the clipboard was telling them. Then she heard her name being announced over the loudspeaker, along with the other three, except that Ed was now called Chris.
Next, they had to walk down to the top of the ramp where they were told to wait until the heat before theirs was finished and all the swimmers were out of the water. From somewhere over near the briefing gazebo, she heard her name being shouted.
‘Stevie! Stevie!’
Who the hell was shouting at her? She ignored it because in a few moments, the signal would be given and they’d be walking down the ramp to the pontoons. Timing was crucial at this event to achieve a smooth transition for the swimmers and complete visibility of anyone in the water for the safety crew.
‘Stevie!’ More urgent this time.
It was Chris. He had arrived and he was running towards the briefing gazebo wearing just his down jacket and swim trunks. His feet were bare and he had his goggles on top of his head.
Stevie watched as he reached the official, said something to her, pointed at the ramp, waited for her to nod in agreement, then ran towards them with a worried look on his face. Although the music was still thumping in the background and people were cheering on the swimmers who were in the heat before them, Stevie felt as if everyone’s eyes were on them, this motley team from Cumbria, which now numbered five swimmers. If she hadn’t sent the substitute away, it would be six!
‘I’m here,’ Chris gasped when he reached them, a smile breaking out on his red face. Ed shook his hand and patted him on the back. The look of relief on his face was tangible. Stevie’s mouth dropped open, but before she could say anything, the marshal instructed them to walk down towards the pontoons that floated on the dark surface of the loch.
The marina had been roped out into separate lanes, each about the same width as in a standard swimming pool. Red and white floats were attached to each rope and the ropes themselves were attached to the bottom rungs of a ladder on one end and the pontoon itself on the other.
Each team had to assemble just before the final pontoon in swimming order. Then the first swimmer walked across the slightly wobbly decking to the team’s lane and stood next to the spotter.
‘Take off your clothes,’ was the first instruction and there was a wave of good-natured whistling and cheers from the onlookers. Everyone knew that this was the standard instruction given at all the international ice swimming events, usually spoken with a heavy Eastern European accent and more of an order than a request. It was guaranteed to make everyone laugh.
The Number One swimmer handed their swim cloak and footwear to their spotter and then climbed backwards down the wooden ladder and submerged with one shoulder under and made ready to swim on a count of three. A false start occurred if the first swimmer set off before the whistle, so everyone listened and concentrated. No one relished the thought of being in that water for any longer than necessary. It was only four degrees, colder than Crummock, and would be a real test for each of them.
Stevie was their number one swimmer and they all wished her luck as she marched onto the final pontoon to take up her position.
‘Take off your clothes.’
She felt a shiver run across her body as she disrobed and stepped towards the ladder. Pausing briefly to look around her and enjoy the moment, she remembered wondering back in October if they’d ever get to this moment. This was it! Arctic Flappers Rule!
Calmly, she lowered herself into the water, deliberately flexing and unflexing her pelvic floor muscles as if to say to the world, ‘Hah! Never underestimate what you can do. I’ve got this.’
The bite of the dark water on her legs, pelvis, waist, and chest immediately focused her attention on what was to come next. She had a few seconds to check her swim cap and pull down her goggles. She wriggled round, grabbed the ladder with her right hand, jammed her feet up against the bottom rung, and scrunched her body up into a pre-launch ball. Her left hand was reaching out in front of her, ready to whip back through the water when the whistle blew.
And go! No false start, just eight swimmers launching themselves into one of Scotland’s most iconic lochs, challenging their cold-water swimming ability and nerves to the far jetty and back using heads-up breaststroke: the classic ice swimming stroke.
* * *
Holly was next to go and she started to lower herself down the ladder when Stevie was about six strokes away from completing her swim.
The water seemed inky black and she shuddered briefly, but no sooner was she in than Chris, Stevie, Angela, and their spotter shouted at her to go.
Driving through the cold water, she tried to control her breathing while pulling as hard as she could. This was nothing like the training swims. It was a high adrenalin race, which automatically compelled her to swim faster, but she didn’t know whether she was doing well or not. At the turn, she glanced briefly over to her left and couldn’t see a swimmer in the next lane so plunged her arms forwards and pulled back, kicking off from the boards she thought were attached to the pontoon. Nothing there! A moment of panic meant she swallowed a couple of mouthfuls of loch and coughed a couple of times. But she kept pulling herself through the water, trying to regain some of her momentum. She could hear people calling at her, urging her on. She knew Angela was next and as she got nearer the end, she saw she was already in the water, waiting for Holly to touch the board so she could go.
‘Go Angela!’ she yelled and then started to pull herself back up the ladder out of the water. The spotter held out her swim cloak and she pulled it over her arms and wrapped it round her. She saw that Chris was handing his down jacket to the spotter, so she wished him luck and watched him climb down the ladder. Angela had almost reached the end of her swim and Chris was ready to go as soon as she touched the pontoon.
Holly had to leave the pontoon and walk back towards the ramp because, for safety reasons, every competitor had to leave the pontoon after they’d swum and head towards the sauna or changing rooms. She looked up and saw Stevie, who was watching Chris like a hawk as he powered his way down the first twenty-five metres.
From halfway up the ramp, Holly turned and watched him swim back towards the ladder, heads down front crawl and killing it. Although breaststroke was the ‘official’ ice swimming stroke, they could do any stroke in the mixed relays and Chris had switched to front crawl to try to beat the other teams.
Holly whooped loudly, grinned, and clapped her hands, calling out his name. A bearded giant next to her clapped too and grinned at her with twinkly blue eyes. He had a Viking helmet dangling from one arm and it bashed into the rail that ran right across the front of the terrace. But Holly had gone off Vikings since the encounter with Tors. Besides, she had her own Egyptian back at home waiting to smother her with lubricant and have his wicked way with her. She giggled. Simon had offered to come up to the championships with them, which had seemed like a good idea at first, but after the Yorkshire Dales weekend and seeing how Stevie had reacted to Chris and Karen, she had a gut feeling that she might be needed as emotional support. She decided to treat the weekend away as an Arctic Flappers adventure rather than a couples getaway.
* * *
The race was over and they had done well, but they didn’t win. But they’d done it. The Arctic Flappers had got to the winter swimming championships by the skin of their teeth.
Stevie saw Angela scanning the sea of faces as if she was looking for someone. Ed? Her fellow team members? Chris was putting on his down jacket and when he looked up into the spectators, she waved at him – he must’ve seen her because he smiled and waved back, picking up his pace as he trod back along the pontoons and up the ramp.
He appeared at her side, his face clearly jubilant, and the rush of endorphins lighting up his brown eyes. He gave her a huge hug and then the others pushed in around them for a group hug, even Ed. Time to get warmed up before the adrenalin buzz disappeared and any of them started to lose body temperature. And the hot tub looked steaming and the hot box intriguing.
‘We did it!’ said a jubilant Holly. ‘Well done, everybody!’
It was a tight squeeze in the giant sauna because so many of the competitors wanted to be in it for at least a few minutes, with some of them staying longer while they chatted to other swimmers.
‘Imagine if there was one of these down at Crummock,’ Stevie said with a sigh, though she wouldn’t really want one down there because it would change the place from somewhere relatively wild to something approaching civilisation.
‘Who’s for the hot tub?’ asked Holly.
They all agreed it was a good idea.
The enormous swimming pool-like hot tub was quite empty, so they hung their cloaks over the back of a chair next to it and climbed in one at a time. Big Ed stepped in gingerly as if he’d never experienced anything like it, but soon relaxed in between Angela and Chris.
‘So, Ed. Would you really have swum?’ Stevie asked. Had he been practising? Since when? How had he managed to keep that from Angela all this time? She wondered whether Chris had known about it too. Probably. It seemed that she was the only one who had been kept in the dark.
‘First I heard of it was just now,’ Chris said. He must have read her mind. ‘Do you think I would have risked getting points for speeding if I’d known this man was going to stand in – sorry, swim in – for me?’
‘Hmm.’ She still wasn’t sure how all this had been organised, but at the end of the day, did it matter? She was sure all would be revealed on their first swim back in the lake.
She closed her eyes, put her head back against the rim of the hot tub, and sighed. Done. They’d done it.
More than 700 swimmers from all over the country and as far afield as Russia, Poland, Slovenia, Sweden, Norway, and even the USA had taken part in the championships that day – a mixed bunch of experienced ice swimmers, veteran wild swimmers and complete newbies – all drawn to a Scottish loch at the end of February to celebrate winter swimming. Now, as twilight crept out from the surrounding hills and forests, about 100 of them had stayed for the evening’s celebrations: a ceilidh around the fire pits and hot tub, guaranteed to warm those parts of the body still cold from the black waters of Loch Tay.
Dress code was informal and gradually, as the evening drew on, most people shed the lifesaving post-swim layers until they appeared more like human beings rather than Michelin men. Faces glowed and smiles shone.
Holly gave first Stevie, then Chris, each a rather emotional hug and kind of pushed them together a bit with a silly grin on her face.
‘Be nice to each other,’ she murmured, her words just a touch slurred.
Stevie looked across at Chris to see how he reacted to Holly’s slightly out of place comment. He just raised his eyebrows and gave Holly a big bear hug that almost lifted her off her feet.
‘Thank you,’ Stevie mouthed at Chris and laughed. He knew just how to handle Holly and wasn’t afraid to defend his own and Stevie’s privacy.
Stevie felt grateful to him for having brought a potentially embarrassing conversation swiftly to an end. She liked his assertiveness and sensed that he did too. She felt excited to spend more time with him. There was more to him than she’d realised, that was for sure.
The emotion sitting with her now was like a precious creature just taking its first breaths, waiting to be nurtured and grow stronger. Should she suggest meeting up for a swim once they were all home? All of them together, or just Chris and her? Would they just go for a swim? Or something more?
Stevie realised she was holding her breath as if in anticipation of their first intimate moment. She knew that’s what she wanted now, with this man who had become such an important part of her journey. She looked at him and hoped her eyes wouldn’t give away what her body was feeling, how much she wanted to press up against him and find out what he smelt like, skin on skin. Thankfully, he disappeared off towards the bar with Holly in tow – hopefully, to get her a soft drink.
She walked towards the group who were standing by the fire pits eating delicious barbeque food. Ed and Angela were there with their arms around each other, her head on his chest. Their closeness made Stevie’s heart ache. Would she be doing this with Chris one day? Perhaps he wasn’t a cuddly sort of person.
‘Please be cuddly,’ she whispered to the Love Gods.
The other questions started to fly into her head once more and she parked her fantasies about Chris. How had they all managed to keep their plotting and planning secret from her? How long had they been messaging each other to organise back-up plans? Surely none of them could have predicted that the Yorkshire swimmer would cut her foot. It seemed such a tangle of circumstance, coincidence, accidents, and what ifs, but ultimately, it came down to bravery.
As the stories and answers emerged over the evening round the fire pits, the hot box, and the hot tub, Stevie realised they’d all done it for her. This amazing group of friends had taken it upon themselves to ensure that she had her dream team for the winter swimming championships in spite of their own personal dramas and issues. What stunned her most was Ed’s story of how Angela had found him up by the beck, having just had his secret dip in the cold water. How come he’d never let her know what he was doing? If he loved the water, why had he reacted to her going swimming with them? It just didn’t make sense.
‘Look at them, though.’ Holly’s voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘Happy as teenagers in love. I reckon it was the old woman, don’t you? Wanted to keep her son for herself. Jealousy is a dangerous trait in anyone.’
Was that a dig? Stevie looked at her friend, but just received a smile and slight raising of the eyebrows and a bottle of Pepsi.
She kept her response unemotional, but honest. ‘Yes, it can jump into the smallest chink and spoil things, can’t it? And we’re all susceptible, I guess, however old or cynical.’ A few mouthfuls of delicious burger later, she added, ‘I think we’re lucky, you know, Holly. We’re all vulnerable to self-doubt and over-thinking stuff and quick to put up the barriers.’
Holly nodded but didn’t say anything.
‘But this swimming thing… we all feel its magic and we have all found it works for us. Look at Ed. A Cumbrian born and bred farmer, stoical as hell, gentle as can be, but even he believes in letting the water take away his worries and releasing his inner strength.’
‘Inner child,’ corrected Holly, pointing at Ed and Chris who were dancing together around the hot tub.
Stevie wiped tomato ketchup from the corners of her mouth and laughed with Holly at the two men, who seemed lost in their own world of mischief. Wistfully, she said, ‘If only more people knew about it, maybe the world would be a happier place?’
‘Nah,’ said Holly, ‘it’s just not something that appeals to most people. I love swimming, but, to be honest, until I met you, I’d never have considered that I’d be loving something like this. I wish Simon was here.’ She waved her arm around the HQ with the fairy lights twinkling on the dark waters of the loch and small groups of fleece- and jogging-bottomed men and women dancing, drinking, talking, and relaxing around them.
‘He’d have loved to see all this and had a giggle about it with us. But I wanted to be here with you on my own so that I could focus on supporting you. Besides, he’s making sure the pool is finished for when I get back – you must all come round. We’ll have our very own Cumbria Winter Swimming Championships!’