Wellness

t’s a sunny June day on the Tasman Peninsula when I come off Three Capes Track I wearing wetsuits and full-length fleece-lined parkas over swimming skins, collectively buzz with the frenetic energy of people Swimming SOULfor the feeling warm to the core after my morning fighting the elements and sharing a challenge. hike. There’s barely a breeze but the sea I’m warmly welcomed in the bracing wind. percussively plays the pebbly shore of Spokesperson Harald Gatenby tells me the Fortescue Bay and, further along, pounds the Weedies swim all year-round. Early in the sand. I quietly peel away from my group, strip pandemic, when aquatic centres closed, even to my merino underwear and hit the frigid more people got hooked on ocean swimming waves for an invigorating 10-minute dip and and joined them. They get a bigger summer dive before a rewarding sun-bask. turnout of their 150-plus members and Fast forward a month to a windy, overcast, occasionally instigate a swim to Blackmans six-degree July morning when I join the Bay for those up for some scenic distance. Weedy Seadragons for their regular Saturday As Harald talks and I get colder, my window social ocean swim. Or, at least, that’s the plan. of opportunity to submerge closes, yet I’m Driving at dawn towards Kingston in the quietly relieved. Swimmers who’ve been traditional homeland of the Muwinina, I’m freestyling parallel to shore for more than half nagged by the thought that a scheduled an hour are starting to get out but, despite cold-water winter experience is really not the dismal weather and 12-degree water, they my modus operandi. walk up the beach visibly hyped with eyes Even before 8am on a Saturday, Kingston shining. There’s even hugging. Beach is bustling but the Weedies are Ricardo Fonseca tells me a friend invited unmissable. A group of about 25 adults, him earlier in the year. “I’ve never stopped,” he

Taking the plunge in Tasmania’s bracing waters is as exhilarating as it is healing, writes Elspeth Callender.

“I still hate the cold, but love the ocean and the openness. It’s like I’ve achieved something every time.”

says. “I feel like a superhero. It’s invigorating and you feel energetic.” Queensland-born Hayley Kupke stands grinning against the backdrop of grey, choppy sea. “I’m addicted,” she says. “I still hate the cold, but love the ocean and the openness. It’s like I’ve achieved something every time… feels euphoric.”

So-called wild swimming is trending worldwide but, like so much wellnessrelated and nature-based, it’s an old practice in a new package. For many, this is simply swimming. And for palawa (First Nations peoples of lutruwita), this saltwater Country is not ‘wild’ but rather an integral part of their extraordinarily long story of health, wellbeing and genuine sustainability.

Dried-off and rugged-up Weedies recongregate in a Kingston cafe where I learn that, along with the social aspect, people take part for fitness, bragging rights and to appreciate the natural environment above and below the surface. Cath Towns joined while dealing with some trauma. “Finding [that] rhythm of breathing in the water helps me in my everyday life to find calm.”

Similar clubs around the state include Tomatoes Swim on Hobart’s eastern shore, Bicheno Coffee Club and the Happy Fish at St Helens. Winter Ocean and Sea Swimming Association (WOSSA), is the winter off-shoot of Taroona’s summer swim club (TOSSA) and strictly no wetsuits.

“If I wasn’t swimming in a group in winter I wouldn’t go,” says Weedy member Catherine Stringer. “Once you’ve put your things out the night before, you don’t notice the morning frost on the grass or ice on the car.” This former runner also appreciates how little equipment is required. “It’s a different sort of buzz to running. I like it better.”

Dip a toe in ocean swimming this spring or summer. Most swim clubs welcome beginners and often list public meet times on their social channels.

THIS PAGE (Left to right) The Weedies wade in; Bicheno Coffee Club on the East Coast.