Back from the Pyrenees, writes Laure Latham. A group of four Serpie girls - Jaana, Eliza, Fiona and I - travelled to Spanish Catalunya for the first ever Pyrenees Ice Swimming Festival and had a blast.
Set in the mountain town of Puigcerda, the festival was the first ever event in Spain to celebrate the chilly joys of cold water swimming under 5 degrees. Hence the “ice” in the title and to add more ice to the mix, a representative of the International Ice Swimming Association Great Britain was present to make sure that the water was “cold enough.” Fortunately, an icy mountain stream had been diverted to flow directly into the lake and ensued a true cold swimming experience with fiery hot Catalan spirit. As French tourists said on the banks of the lake, “ils sont fous!” They were, obviously, watching scantily-clad swimmers navigate the long course in the lake while they were all wrapped up in their coats and wools.
Back to the spirit of Catalunya. Oh, you’re going to like this. In the relay races, the organisers concocted a cheeky “passage de baton” in the form of a kiss (bisou) on the cheek of the next swimmer from the outgoing and wet previous swimmer. No bisou, no swimming - entiendes? Gender fixity has never been so popular in relays! Before the relay races, though, we had to earn our fun with more serious straight-on swimming endeavours and so the story starts.
On Saturday morning, our group and my friend Alex (a Serpie in exile in Paris) all drove up from Beziers where we had stayed overnight at my Dad’s. With two cars, we met up with the Aqualove Sauvetage group of Jacques Tuset, Aqualove being a lifesaving association based in Palavas-les-flots (Herault). I knew Jacques by email, Skype and Facebook but had never met him in person. “Let’s meet at the gas station in Narbonne,” he suggested. Groovy!
Since he and I were involved in organising the Pyrenees Ice Swimming Festival, it was great to finally put a face to his name but wait, there was another happy soul. Fiona’s joy was even greater than mine when she met the fantastic group of muscly men whose training photo had been shared on Facebook the week prior. Look at those French boys!
Though the temptation to linger at the gas station was great (Fiona, behave!), we had a lake to swim and we all climbed back into our respective cars and trucks. On we went as a real convoy, except we quickly realised that the car with Fiona, Jaana and Eliza had disappeared of our rear-view mirror. Had we already lost 1/3 of the female contingent of the event? Out of 32 swimmers, only 9 were women and 4 were female Serpies. As you can imagine, the stakes were very high. A few text messages later, we located them. They’d been following the wrong car on the freeway and were on their way to Barcelona. Quick, turn around and head to the mountains!
Thanks to the magic of car GPS, we were all reunited in Puigcerda by the lake at lunch time. Ah, lunch. A true Catalan meal was the perfect recipe to fuel a cold water swim - local olives, catalan sauce and hearty meats. At the back of the bar where we were having lunch, I spotted an autographed poster of the child wonder of the region, Kilian Jornet. No doubt, we were truly in Catalunya. The ultra runner Kilian Jornet is nothing short of a demi-god in all Catalunya and I’ve spotted his autographs in many a mountain hut in the Pyrenees. It felt right to find his writing on the wall before our event, as the man’s been known to enjoy (skinny) dips in mountain lakes after gruelling races. All in spirit with Kilian!
At 3pm, Pep Vivas-Elias (the organiser of the event) gathered all swimmers in the male changing room (in fact, the clear-glass extension of a hotel) for the safety talk and briefing. The girls’ changing room was at the back of the boys’ changing room, behind the bar and its one-way mirror, prime real estate to safely peep while changing. However, as the toilets were at the back of the girls’ area, let’s just say that gender fixity was celebrated early on in the event and many moons were shined in between nature calls.
At 4pm, the 50 metre heats started. As far as groups, the festival gathered swimmers from Spain (Nedant a Itaca Swim Association), France (Aqualove Sauvetage) and Great Britain (Serpentine Swimming Club), plus a few non-affiliated swimmers. In heats of 4, we all went down the ladder and pretended not to mind the temperature before starting off and splashing our neighbours to swim around a yellow pineapple-shaped buoy and come back. As the sun’s glare was quite strong, a few swimmers made for the wrong exits (oops, wrong ladder) and were redirected right away. At this point, it’s interesting to mention that very few of the swimmers had ever swam in water colder than 8C as most participants live on the Mediterranean. You can’t have everything in life, now, can you? The Mediterranean and cold water? Forget it. Without ever having experienced ice swimming, more than half the participants had signed up for the 1K event on Sunday. That was daring. With Pauline Barker (IISA), Pep and Jacques, I was supposed to monitor people’s reactions to the cold to assess their readiness for the 1K. Would they shiver? Would they shrivel? Would they yodel? After 50 metres, the swimmers’ reactions ranged from “not so cold” to “I didn’t even have time to notice” or “it was great!” Since I had had time to notice (I’m a slow poke, after all), I guessed that the 450m would be no walk in the park for a few.
At 5pm, the 450 metre heats started for 24 participants. The first heat swimmers were incredibly fast and took off like a flight of swans in the lake. Poof, gone, done and dusted. The second heat included Alex and another swimmer who started off like a torpedo but then rolled on his back and raised his arm to swim back after 50 metres. He had started too strong and couldn’t breathe. Out you go. In the heats that followed, only one other swimmer bailed out but all the others finished in great times.
Sure enough, recovery was a different matter after 450 metres. The hot air heater in the men’s changing room became the hot spot of post-swimming discussions and hot chocolate cups (no tea). Having observed everybody, I was part of the last heat with Jacques and Pep and by the time we started, the sun was almost setting. Since both Jacques and Pep are excellent swimmers, I was looking forward to a solo swim surrounded by 6 safety boats all to myself. What a luxury! As planned, they out swam me very rapidly but I didn’t even have time to consider drafting. Such a shame. Instead, I concentrated on a steady stroke and deep breathing to last the distance, which proved a bit difficult as I was not out of a nasty flu. About halfway through, I knew that I was by myself but surprisingly, heard many cheers and saw people supporting me from the sides. All the previous swimmers who were now dry were coming together to support the last swimmer in the sunset. It was truly heartwarming and I was elated when I finished after 13 minutes (the distance proved to be closer to 540m than 450m). Involuntarily, I showed off a bit and my recovery was spectacularly shivery. Boy was I glad that helpful hands dressed me and wrapped me up in thick wool blankets.
Around 7pm, we all walked together to the city center for an open symposium about open water swimming and ice swimming at the Arxiu comarcal de Cerdanya. We were interviewed by swimmer Loli Paz (who has multiple sclerosis and still swims) and in turns, talked about various aspects of open water swimming. I talked about wild swimming and the incredible community of the Serpentine Swimming Club. Jacques talked about the booming interest in open water swimming events in the world and Juan Emilio Fernandez talked about the joys of open water swimming in the sea. A Catalan dinner ended the day and though we could all gone wild and partied the night away in bodegas, we did the reasonable swimming thing and went to bed before midnight.
Sunday started much earlier as Pep had moved all events forward so that us Serpies could catch a 6pm flight from Toulouse. So considerate of him. Thank you, Pep. At 10am, the 1,000m event started and overnight, the number of participants had thawed a bit. Perhaps ice on the surface of the lake spoke more volumes than any thermometre could have? As it were, the water temperature was now 4.4C and the swimmers all took to the water with tow floats while their fellow (dry and warm) swimmers cheered on. On the loudspeaker, the event host was going crazy with enthusiasm. “Benvigut al Pyrenees Ice Swimming Festival de Puigcerda!” Cue heavy guitar riffs of the usual swimming event soundtrack and Avicii's “Hey, brother…” Later, as Pauline Barker was starting her second leg, the speaker was living it stroke by stroke and it was like following a football match on the radio. “Empeza la second volta la Pauline!” and a bit later, “Tenemos la Pauline que se arriva al arc de Puigcerda,” etc until "la Pauline” finished flamboyantly with a few strokes of butterfly. Hurray for Pauline! On the lake shore, a British mother was warning her offspring to “Keep away from the edge, kids!” because hey, it’s cold down there.
A few swimmers took their own sweet time to exit the water and even turned off the GPS strapped onto their goggles before unclipping their tow float and grabbing the ladder. One of them even didn’t get dressed right away and suffered from pretty bad after-drop later. Maybe hurry to get out and get dry next time? Man, Kilian would be all over this with his inspiring quotes such as “thresholds don’t exist in terms of our bodies, the real thresholds depend on our minds and the hunger we feel to turn dreams into reality,“ yaddi-yadda. Err, duh, thresholds definitely exist in ice swimming. It’s called hypothermia.
The best was yet to come. The “kiss on the cheek” relay had us all giddy with anticipation as kids. In Jacques’ team, the muscly men lined up to take to the water and the one who came before the only female swimmer on their team counted himself very lucky. Eliza was now part of a team of strong Spanish muscly men as the (rare and precious) female element while our Serpentine Swans included Jaana, Fiona, Alex and I, the only team where men were outnumbered. Since our swimming prowess might not bring back the cup, we Serpentine Swans decided to stand out for our happy smiles and tacky flower necklaces. Whatever works, right? It all went too fast and we had so much fun that we would have begged for a second cheeky relay, but the countdown to our plane had started and we had to wrap up.
Next to the ladders, the mayor of Puigcerda handed out medals to the winners in each category, him dressed to the nines, swimmers in sweatpants and tees. Great Britain brought back three medals thanks to Pauline Barker who did the best time in the 1,000m (female) event with her smooth and steady stroke. To commemorate the event, we all brought back a souvenir medal that we had to stash away to walk through security at the airport but that was worn with pride afterwards.
This concludes a wonderful Spanish-French-Catalan event where the friendly atmosphere made all the difference between an anonymous event and an event where you feel welcomed by friends. Heads up to the Serpentine. You’ll probably see a few of the Spanish and French swimmers at the Serpentine soon. They are extremely intrigued by our club and we can show them how to brew a proper cup of tea after swimming!
And, Kilian? We’re free to dip in mountain lakes in Catalunya any time. Call us maybe?
[Text laure Latham, Photos: Fiona Campbell]
