Go Wild Swimming In Dublin, Just Like The ‘Bad Sisters’

I am about shin-deep in the Irish Sea, my hands flapping about like hummingbird wings, as I question my judgement. I’m gasping for air, as the shock of the chill 50 degree Fahrenheit water laps at my knees. The air temperature is about the same, with a fine mist falling—romantic weather for a stroll on the strand, but not generally inviting for bathing.

“Once you can control your breath, you’ll be fine,” assured Susan Dillon, a coach from SwimCamp Ireland. With most every fiber of my being calling me back to shore, where hot cocoa and a fluffy windbreaker robe awaited, I took another step into the water.

Anantara The Marker Dublin Hotel has contracted with SwimCamp, a specialist in open water swimming, to help guests enjoy “wild swimming,” as the Irish call it. The luxury hotel chain prizes offering uniquely local experiences to guests, and a cold plunge in the Irish Sea is certainly that.

The activity took off in Dublin during the pandemic, and was a highlight of the TV show “Bad Sisters,” Sharon Horgan’s black comedy returning to Apple TV+ in November. In it, the tight-knit siblings regularly gather at The Forty Foot, a storied swimming spot about a half hour from Dublin City, to discuss their questionable choices before jumping into the Irish Sea.

The Forty Foot was a bucket-list destination for me, but swimming there requires jumping into rough water, and the way out is a single ladder – there’s no timid tiptoeing from a sandy shore. So instead, the Marker transports guests to White Rock Beach, a quiet sandy strand reached down many flights of stairs along a spectacular cliff.

“Look at where you are to take your mind off the cold,” Dillon advises, pointing out director Neil Jordan’s stunning waterfront estate, rising as a white beacon from the cold water in the distance. Steep cliffs were covered with ferns and splashes of wild flowers in yellow and pink, and Dublin Bay stretched out before me, with Bray Head and the Sugar Loafs in the distance. I took five more steps and was up to my waist. At this point, my teenage daughter was up to her shoulders, splashing about the waves like a selkie. “Dip your head in,” Dillon urged my daughter. “It completes the experience.” My daughter ducked under a wave and came back up, beaming.

For many wild bathers, at least in Ireland, the experience is as much a social activity as a physical one. “It’s all about the chats,” Dillon said, enticing me further into the water with celebrity gossip – how everyone went gaga when Harry Styles showed up for a swim, but Bono can just have a pint in a pub undisturbed. Bono’s compound, where rumor has it his kids’ friends have to turn in their phones and submit to a security check when they visit, was nearby, but tucked around a corner out of sight.

“You’ve done it,” Dillon encouraged, as I found myself chest-deep, distracted by tales of Matt Damon’s pandemic isolation nearby, and stories of Van Morrison’s home just down the road. “Now you just have to sink your shoulders in.” I took a deep breath and submerged up to my neck. And it was exhilarating. The cold water felt … almost good.

“The best bit is putting your head under the water and being fully submerged,” Dillon claimed—and my daughter, who was dipping and bobbing like she never wanted to get out, agreed. “I’ll do it with you,” Dillon said. So on a count of three, we both dunked our heads. Honestly, it did somehow feel complete.

“People tend to run in and run out and not give themselves a chance to get used to the change in temperature,” Dillon says – praising me and my daughter (from hardy New England stock) for braving the chill for nearly half an hour. My gait was a bit unsteady (maybe a little numb…) as I headed back to the beach and pulled on a luxurious changing robe—a loaner as part of the Anantara excursion. Wild swimming is so popular now that brands like Coucon sell oversized windbreakers lined with thick fleece that enable you warm up and strip off your wet swimsuit underneath without putting on a show. Something I definitely wish I’d had during vacations plunging into the sea from Massachusetts to Maine. Our Anantara excursion was topped off with a thermos of hot cocoa and a basket of hotel pastries—and an exhilarating tingly buzzing sensation throughout my body.

Emboldened by my icy dip, upon returning home, I plunged into the 60 degree Fahrenheit waters of a nearby New England beach. Piece of cake. I wonder if I will still feel that way in November, when the Bad Sisters return for more plotting and wild swimming.