It’s 3:50 a.m. An almost full moon makes the wind-rippled waters shimmer as I stand alone on the shore. It’s the morning of my 4,000th consecutive swim day and I’m taking a couple of quiet minutes to soak this in.
Removing my shirt, I see headlights winding around the picnic area. I have no idea who it could be. Nobody said they’d join me for the start, and I certainly wasn’t expecting anybody at this peculiar hour. The engine turns off and out steps David, a local swimmer and one of three others I had the privilege to swim an Ice Mile with back in 2022.
‘Come on Roweboat!’ I call. ‘We’ve got 3 minutes.’ Once David is changed, we pull goggles down over our eyes and step into the warm water. I press start on my watch as it ticks over to 4 a.m. We lean forwards together and swim into the dark.
Simon Scott
Simon Scott
Simon Scott
My swim streak began in 2014. After a couple of false starts, I settled into a groove, with the first of my continuous swims on 3 March. Inspired by Al Alvarez’s Pondlife: A Swimmers Journal (2013), my initial plan was to swim through an entire year, but when 3 March rolled around again, I’d had so much fun that I decided to keep going. Since then, I’ve swum across lakes, down rivers, along beaches, through caves, around islands. In short, I’ve had the kind of life that many swimmers dream of.
I’ve swum across lakes, down rivers, along beaches, through caves, around islands. In short, I’ve had the kind of life that many swimmers dream of.
Swimming is more than just the physical act of pulling a terrestrial body through an aquatic medium. There are mental benefits: swimming forces me to embrace discomfort, whether in the form of cold water or long distances, and focus on the present moment. There are moments of intense beauty thanks to changing scenery and the magical light of dawn and dusk. I find joy in the literature and music of swimming, with a growing library of books and an expanding playlist of songs. I also find deep fascination in the body’s physiological response to different water types, temperatures and conditions. More than anything, I cherish the experience of being immersed in the natural world, becoming part of the aquatic ecosystem, interacting with the wildlife, experiences which I’ve described in The Outdoor Swimming Society’s Almanac over the past five years.
I’m always keen to swim in new places. One year, I decided to swim in as many places as I could, reaching 333 different locations by the end of December. But the place I love most is Dumaresq Dam – a small reservoir about 12 km from my home in New South Wales that was built in the 1890s until a new dam was constructed in the 1960s. Since then, Dumaresq Dam has been set aside for swimming, fishing and recreation, with a circumference of just over a kilometre. I’ve swum countless laps here throughout the seasons, at every hour of both day and night. I like to think I’ve become part of the ecological community, interacting with the natural cycle throughout the year, observing the mass emergence of phantom midges, the arrival of swallows in early spring, changing generations of musk ducks, catfish nesting after winter, and innumerable other uplifting encounters that make swimming in nature such an energising experience.
I’ve become part of the ecological community, interacting with the natural cycle throughout the year, observing innumerable uplifting encounters that make swimming in nature such an energising experience.
Of course, there are times when I don’t feel like swimming. This happened more in the early days, but I’d still drag myself to the water’s edge and get in. Making a plan the night before is a great way to ensure consistency. Often, I’m on autopilot when I wake up and have already done my first few strokes before I decide I don’t want to swim. The most difficult time was during the early months of the pandemic. With the uncertainty and heaviness of that period, swimming didn’t seem important. But just as I was thinking I’d stop, I got a message from some locals wanting to swim in Dumaresq Dam now that the pools were closed. Always keen to encourage others to swim, I went out each day and swam until the camaraderie revived my spirits.
Swimming every day means you must embrace the weather and conditions, no matter what they bring – even if it’s -9°C and the ground is frozen, or it’s raining so hard that you can barely see. I’ve swum in temperatures from 1.4°C to 46°C, in conditions I wouldn’t choose – and which I know are not advised by The Outdoor Swimming Society – including blue-green algae blooms, flood waters, anoxic water accessed through thigh-deep mud, and even a disused sewage-treatment pond. While not recommended, I look on these as opportunities to experience the diversity that swimming has to offer. An added benefit: I’ve developed a very robust gut flora!
For the most part, my swims have been an enjoyable way of injecting a small adventure into each day. It’s a journey of countless wonderful hours in the water through hundreds of different places. Of course, there were also a few duds, which often make the best stories.
Simon Scott
Simon Scott
Simon Scott
Simon Scott
On the morning of my 4,000th swim, more than 30 people came out to Dumaresq Dam. Some swam a couple of laps, some clocked up personal milestones (Nat and Dave swam 5 km) and some just splashed around in the shallows. A few notables, who were there from the very early days, include Lachlan, Stan and Peta (another Ice Miler).
Four thousand days – almost 11 years! – is a long time to do anything. I fully appreciate the privilege and freedom I’ve had to do such a silly and wonderful thing. Pig-headed determination has had something to do with it, but not as much as the miraculous support and unending tolerance of my partner Mel, and our four kids, for which I am forever grateful.
As one of my friends was leaving, he shouted, ‘I’ll see you again for 5,000!’ I hope he will, and maybe even beyond.
Simon Scott
Follow Peter’s adventures at @platocean