HOBBY HORSE/SEA SWIMMING:The water is numbing and there are jellyfish to deal with, but if you put all that out of your mind and just jump in . . ., writes Michael Kelly
IT'S SOMEWHAT SURPRISING that the members of the Newtown and Guillamene Swimming Club would invite a journalist to come and write about their little corner of heaven near Tramore in Co Waterford. Members joke that a strict rule of Omertà (the Sicilian code of silence) in the club is aimed at keeping the area under wraps and you can see why - it is quite simply spectacular. Ssshhh. Tell no one.
Newtown and the Guillamene are adjacent coves on the Great Newtown Head, about five minutes drive from Tramore - and it is this slight remove from the town which keeps them largely hidden from the hoards that descend on Tramore each year. The coves are overlooked by the Metal Man, a statue of an ancient mariner erected in 1823 that sits atop a stone pillar looking out over Tramore Bay. Legend has it that on stormy nights the Metal Man can be heard to chant: "Keep out good ship, keep out from me, for I am the rock of misery".
He may not be chanting about misery on the summer's day that we visit, but as we strip off in a heavy shower of rain and a moderate to biting wind, he's definitely whispering something ominous. They are hardy folk in this club - out of just over 100 members, a core group of 10-15 swim all year round and at this time of the year about 30-40 members are swimming daily. Outside of informal swims, the club also hosts annual charity events and has raised more than €60,000 for local charities in the past few years.
There has been swimming at the Guillamene since the 1880s, but the club started officially in the 1940s. It was the preserve of men until the 1970s, and there's still a sign at the top of the steps leading to the cove that says "Men Only". A second sign, however, helpfully explains that the original is but a souvenir of a bygone era and that women are welcome. "A relic of old decency," one of the members says. At the time, some male members showed their displeasure at these modern developments by swimming nude. It wasn't recorded whether female swimmers were disgusted or delighted by this.
According to chairman Ollie Clery, the club is all about promoting swimming and maintaining the bathing area - he's keen to emphasise that you don't need to be a member to swim at the coves and that visitors and locals are welcome.
"We consider this place the jewel in the crown of Tramore," says Clery. "It is so peaceful out here. Members come along for a bit of craic and the camaraderie. Lots of us would get together socially outside of the swimming. We would be lost without it."
Steps lead down from the car park to a small pier where there are ladders descending into the water and a terrifying looking diving board. While we wait for the rain to stop (an odd experience to be sheltering from the rain in a pair of swimming togs), club members share their stories.
It was a Christmas Day swim that got Noel Condon involved. "There was a brass band playing Christmas carols beside the water. It's hard to explain but it was just magical. I've been hooked ever since."
Jackie McGuire swims here every day in the warmer weather, though not in the winter. "It's great exercise and great camaraderie. It's something I look forward to every day and I think every member appreciates this place - we don't take it for granted."
All speak of the tremendous health benefits of daily swimming, though interestingly they don't buy into the notion that year-round swimmers never get colds. One gentleman tells me that he lost his false teeth in the water while swimming in a particularly heavy swell. Someone else warns of jellyfish - "They're only small ones," he adds helpfully. Wetsuits, it is generally accepted, are cheating.
It's low tide, but the water is deep enough here (about 12m) that you can still use the diving board. While I tentatively climb down the ladder like a big wuss, club treasurer Michael Fardy (who is in his 60s) shows me up with a grand leap from the diving board. About two years ago, Fardy swam across Tramore Bay to Brownstown head, a distance of three miles.
I've had two swims in the sea so far this year - talk about brass monkeys! But this is a very special type of cold, presumably because the water is so deep. My instinct is to get out straight away, but everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves and eventually the numbness sets in and takes the edge off the cold.
Afterwards we retire to the clubhouse (a small cabin overlooking the bay) where an impromptu snack of tea and Waterford blaas is served - the grub quite frankly merits an article in its own right. The sun comes out and we stand looking out over the yawning bay, the tea warming our insides. Perhaps Omertà is the best way forward after all.
mkelly@irish-times.ie