Wild Swimming
Chris Ayriss ISBN 978-0-557-12428-2
Even before the late Roger Deakin published his book Waterlog, I was researching and writing Hung Out to Dry. Due to the abundance of swimming restrictions in my home city of Leicester, I was determined to find out why outdoor swimmers (wild swimmers) came in for so much prejudice. My journey has not been easy; hampered by dyslexia and having no computer skills whatsoever, the process of researching and writing a book seemed a formidable task. Finding a publisher was the next obstacle; most felt that a lack of interest in such a specialized subject would make the project unfeasible. Yet even when an offer to publish was secured, the cost of reproducing the photographs, many of which come from the Hulton Getty collection, meant that I would be out of pocket to the tune of thousands of pounds even if the book sold well. In the end I decided to do it all myself, and Hung Out to Dry is now finally in print.
Today wild swimming is making a comeback. Yacov Lev and Rob Fryer launched the River and Lake Swimming Association and have been championing the cause on the internet. Swimming guide books such as Wild Swimming by Daniel Start and Wild Swim by Kate Rew (founder of the Outdoor Swimming Society) are helping to change people's perception of swimming in the great outdoors. Hung Out to Dry records the 2000 year history of the wild swimmer; I hope that through its publication readers will gain a deeper understanding of our rich culture. More importantly I trust that you will be tempted to look again at our rich and varied landscape and enjoy its pleasures by swimming in the water itself rather than just walking along its edge.
THE DAYS WHEN WE WENT SWIMMING
by Henry Lawson (1867 - 1922)
The breezes waved the silver grass,
Waist-high along the siding,
And to the creek we ne'er could pass
Three boys on bare-back riding;
Beneath the sheoaks in the bend
The waterhole was brimming -
Do you remember yet, old friend,
The times we "went in swimming"?
The days we "played the wag" from school -
Joys shared - and paid for singly -
The air was hot, the water cool -
And naked boys are kingly!
With mud for soap the sun to dry -
A well planned lie to stay us,
And dust well rubbed on neck and face
Lest cleanliness betray us.
And you'll remember farmer Kutz -
Though scarcely for his bounty -
He leased a forty-acre block,
And thought he owned the county;
A farmer of the old world school,
That grew men hard and grim in,
He drew his water from the pool
That we preferred to swim in.
And do you mind when down the creek
His angry way he wended,
A green-hide cart whip in his hand
For our young backs intended?
Three naked boys upon the sand -
Half buried and half sunning -
Three startled boys without their clothes
Across the paddocks running.
We've had some scares, but we looked blank
When, resting there and chumming,
One glanced by chance upon the bank
And saw the farmer coming!
And home linger yet
Of cups of sorrow brimming;
I hardly think that we'll forget
The last day we went swimming.
