WORDS Annette Lees PHOTOS Supplied

The Bay of Plenty could have been called “Bay of Plentiful Waters” – with hundreds of streams cascading down off its ranges, deep rivers delivering the streams to numerous wetlands and estuaries, and then all of that fresh water flowing into the sea.  

It’s a watery place, and so it’s a swimmy place. Every little neighbourhood here has its outdoor swim – a fizzing plunge pool in the local creek, a rope swing out across the river hole, a place to float in the warm estuary water and, of course, the coast with its surf and rock pools.

From the very first, outdoor swimming has defined the Bay. The first swimmer in Tauranga may have been Taurikura, a puhi of Ngāti Ranginui. Taurikura was from a village called Kahakaharoa in the Omanawa Falls area. She was shamed for refusing to fetch water for her grandfather, so she slipped away from her village one night, changed into a ngārara (a reptile-like being), and dived into the river.  On that swim, she carved a new course for the river, in the process naming some of our favourite swimming places, until she reached the sea. 

I grew up in Whakatāne. My childhood, like that of almost every other kid I knew, revolved around our swimming places. I swam everywhere I could, building layers of water memories and a strong sense of place and home – a “water-biography”. It wasn’t until my own kids became teenagers that my habit to jump into any water at my feet started to fade. And then came a fateful summer when I dipped into wild freshwater only once or twice. 

I shocked myself. I had never wanted to be that dry adult who stood on the bank or the beach, lazily watching the kids have all the fun. So I made a resolution to swim every day the coming summer to break the spell and return me to the delight of immersing myself in the wild.

That year, I did swim every day of summer. I loved it so much that I carried on, swimming every day all through autumn and into the winter and then through spring. 365 days that had a mini-holiday inserted into them every time I jumped in.  

I swam wherever I found myself that day, so I frequently entered unknown waterscapes. I approached strangers to ask where they swam and, through this, a nationwide network of very local swims opened up to me. I met people everywhere taking a dip in all kinds of weather, all through the year, and collected swimming stories from all over the country.

As I collated those stories into a book, I had the sense of a great swell of serious passion for water and swimming by New Zealanders that goes back hundreds of years.

I found 100-year-old stories from childhoods spent in the creeks of the western Bay of Plenty. In one, a memory from the 1920s, local kids filled coal sacks with stones to dam the Waitete Stream near Waihi. Each swimming hole had its own name and if you helped dam it, you were a member of that place for the summer and could swim there whenever you wanted. Winter storms washed the whole thing away, but no one minded the fun and watery job to rebuild it the following summer.

Mount Maunganui, of course, has a long history of happiness in the water. One memory from the 1920s featured the use of the ironing board to catch the waves.

Water-biographies are still being built all over the Bay of Plenty. Any beach, any river hole you were at this summer, you would’ve seen kids in the water. And with Tauranga’s recent investment in the Tidal Steps, you’re invited to step into the water any old time you’re in town.  

The Tidal Steps is an officially sanctioned bombing place where kids can practice the old leaps - the Pin, the Gorilla, the Coffin Bomb, the Knee Bomb, the Angel, and the more traditional Cannonball. In recent years, we have the Manu, a bomb simulating a bird taking flight. A good Manu bomber enters the water in a perfect V, with legs and arms straight up and the tailbone entering the water first.  Advanced is to hold a rugby or volley ball between your legs as you pop the Manu, sending the ball tens of metres into the air when you hit the water.  

Bombing is a competitive sport now, with its own town and national tournaments. In 2017, Tauranga had its first official bomb competition at the newly opened Tidal Steps. More than 30 bombers fought it out that year for the Best Bomber title, and the numbers of people entering these competitions grows annually. There’s even an “old people’s” category for those over 45.

Don’t let the arrival of winter put you off a dip. This season can provide us with some of our best swimming. Winter swimming has a seriousness about it. In my year of swimming, I found it did take a little more dedication to out in the cold, rain and gales. The sun is slow to rise and early to descend in winter, so I would sometimes have to swim in the dark to keep my pledge, but there is an added deliciousness about night time swimming.

Founder of that New Zealand icon the Plunket Society, Dr Truby King placed cold-water swimming among his top six essentials for health. The others were fruit, raw vegetables, coarse bread, water-drinking and vigorous towelling-down.

It is true that swimming in very cold water is one of life’s great experiences. A glorious shock awakens the entire body. You are made instantaneously present and aware. You have a vivid sensation of inner cleansing, revitalising and freshening. All of your senses are sharpened by peril, so that light appears crisper, your sense of touch precise, your tastebuds bright and the scent of coldness concentrated.  

When you emerge, the blood returns to your skin in a visible fizz of pink health. You are burning from head to foot, and you are likely to be laughing. The coolness, freshness and sparkle will stay with you for many hours, leaving you with a bountiful sense of wellbeing and joy. You will be kinder to your family and more generous to your workmates. You feel calm. You feel assured that the day will be exactly the right length to achieve what needs to be done. Well, that’s how it feels, anyway. I bet you swam in cold water as a kid. Try it again. Nothing’s changed.

There are actually proven health benefits to cold-water swimming. People suffering from pain or allergies (rheumatism, fibromyalgia and asthma) describe how their symptoms are eased by winter swimming, perhaps because of the sudden burst of neuroendocrines which act as natural painkillers and anti-inflammatories. Swimming regularly in winter significantly reduces tension, fatigue, and negative memory and mood states. 

You could, of course, just have a cold bath, but then you miss out on all the loveliness of wild water. Open wild water adds to each swim special qualities of sunlight slanting through the lake or sea, watery views of the natural world, full immersion in the temperature of the season, and a taste of the water’s origin. Water has 600 times the resistance of air, so it is an effort to swim through it. At the same time, it holds us up, allowing us to discover its multiple dimensions – sideways, down and back up again. We get to explore as if we’re flying. We feel weightless and freed: A 70-kilogram adult weighs only 3.5kg in water.  

Only outdoor swimming has bright light shafting through the water. The pools of watery darkness as clouds pass overhead. The wind and waves. The sense of risk and wildness and freedom. Unknown things rising up out of murky water. A feeling of falling when the water below is so deep and clear you can see fathoms. Disorientation without painted lines on the bottom. Not being able to stand, just in case you need to. The cold. The underside of paddling ducks, the flicking swish of a fish, the silence, the wobbling horizon, the distant mountain, the reflection of clouds, the fresh silkiness of wild water on your skin, the ripples and coins of light on the water surface, the rocking of the waves and currents, the watery blue. Fear and joy all mixed up. The wild blue yonder right here in the Bay of Plenty.

Swim: A Year of Swimming Outdoors in New Zealand, by Annette Lees (Potton & Burton $39.99). Available from pottonandburton.co.nz and booksaplenty.co.nz