The comments were to be expected when I told friends and family I was off to try my local swim group in south-west London. “The Thames? Really?”, “You’re not putting your head under, are you?” and “Isn’t it supposed to be riddled with all sorts of… diseases?”
I could hardly blame them for worrying. Our capital’s beloved river might look glistening and romantic when you’re walking over Tower Bridge or along its banks at sunset, but I’ve seen too much of that foamy yellow pollution layer and read too many horror stories about Weil’s disease to ever think about getting in. I’ve rowed on it, paddleboarded on it, dipped the odd toe in. But thought to actually go swimming in it? Never.
Yet here I am near Teddington Lock in just my swimming costume and neoprene boots and gloves, tow-float strapped around my waist, finally taking the plunge at 7.45am on a Wednesday morning in May.
And to my surprise it’s all rather, well… pleasant, really — aside from the small piece of duck poo inside my shoe. The sun on my face and the bracing, velvety texture of the water. The gaggle of bobble-hatted breaststrokers giggling around me. The ducks and the school rowers gliding past. I could be in Cornwall or Wales or at least a little deeper into Surrey.
A passing dog-walker stops on the bank and gives us a wave. “I keep seeing you guys pop up on my social media feed!” he says.
The reason my swimming group seems to be enjoying a newfound dose of fame? The same reason I’ve broken my own pledge not to get in the Thames after more than a decade of living in the capital: a change in its swimming safety status — at least for a small section of it.
The news came in earlier this month: Ham in south-west London is one of 13 UK sites made a new designated bathing water area, meaning it will be regularly tested by the Environment Agency throughout the summer season. Until September 30, hundreds of sites across England will be monitored for bacteria such as E. coli and intestinal enterococci every week.
Other sites include Pangbourne Meadow in Berkshire and the River Swale in North Yorkshire, but “Costa del Ham”, as locals have affectionately nicknamed it, is the first on the Thames in London — a landmark moment given its dirty, polluted reputation and the fact that the river was declared “biologically dead” in the 1950s.
Is it safe to swim in the Thames at Ham?
So how clean is the water here really, nearly 80 years on — and will people actually brave a few strokes? The news certainly doesn’t mean we should all spend the summer dive-bombing into our nearest section of the Thames.
The river quality remains variable in most stretches, and environmental groups warn that storm overflows and sewage discharges are still a persistent problem.
But on this particular, unassuming stretch of river between Ham and Kingston near Teddington Lock, it’s a different story. There are perch and roach, the occasional pike, even the odd seal — and if you pick the right day the water looks clear enough to make you want to take the plunge (below the neck, anyway. I’m still not sure about putting my head in).
This is partly down to the efforts of campaigners who’ve been relentlessly calling on the Government and water companies to clear the country’s waterways of sewage and farm run-off and help save the dying biodiversity. It’s also partly down to location.
Locals have been swimming alongside the boats here for years
Here in Ham, you’re far enough out of central London to escape the worst of the sewage overflows and urban run-off. Locals have been swimming alongside the boats here for years, apparently, and many more bathers are expected as news of its new status spreads. Marlene Lawrence, 63, founder of the Teddington branch of cold-water swimming group The Bluetits, says she, too, was a sceptic like me. She lived and rowed in Richmond just upstream, and often swam in the Serpentine in Hyde Park. Then lockdown shut all the local swimming pools and a friend encouraged her to give the Thames a go.
“That was a bit of a eureka moment — the water lapping, the birds chattering, the sun on my face… And it was free! I knew it would change my life for the better,” she tells me. She now swims there with her fellow Bluetits at least three times a week.
The 2,000-strong group — a mostly female gaggle of headteachers, creatives and retirees, plus the odd male ally — meets on Sundays at 8am and Fridays at 5.30pm (there’s often tea, cake or fish and chips after), plus multiple mornings during the week depending on members’ availability and need for a soothing dip. Kevin, one of the hardier members, swims for a full hour every morning, and new mum Alex recently swam there just hours before giving birth.
It’s a mental health thing first and foremost, a couple of them tell me as we feel the invigorating shiver of the first few strokes. Anyone who’s tried open-water swimming or an ice bath can speak to the natural high you feel afterwards. “If someone’s having a bad day they’ll just post on the group and say they need a dip — people will come,” says one Bluetit.
All of which is not to say anyone should simply rock up at Teddington Lock and jump in, hoping to be healed. Beginners are advised not to swim alone, and the same rules apply here as much as they do anywhere deemed safe enough for an open-water swim — always check the daily flow rate and live sewage map, only swim for a minute for every degree of water temperature, never swim after heavy rain, and wear a tow-float so boats can see you.
There is also the looming question of whether Thames Water will go ahead with its proposed plans to launch a water-recycling scheme in the area which, if approved, would see treated sewage pumped not far from this very bathing spot to tackle water shortages.
Thames Water says the Teddington Direct River Abstraction scheme "would not deteriorate water quality and would meet strict water quality standards set by the Environment Agency" but Lawrence says the scheme — which would extract up to 75 million litres of water daily and replace it with treated water from nearby Mogden Sewage Treatment Works — is feared by her fellow bathers. They’ve been campaigning against it for six years now. “I’m hoping the weekly testing will gradually improve what water companies choose to do with the river — but I am fearful,” she says.
Joining the Teddington Bluetits Swimming Group
Until then, though, it’s full stroke ahead. Lawrence says Bluetit member numbers have skyrocketed since the news earlier this month. She’d normally have two or three requests to join the Facebook group every day, but that number has been in the hundreds ever since the status change on May 15.
As a keen open-water swimmer, I plan to be one of them. When I moved back to London in April, after 18 months living in Australia, I assumed morning dips were a pastime I’d have to give up on — at least on weekdays, when I don’t have time to trudge out to swimming lakes like Shepperton before work. Perhaps not. Perhaps I really can swim with ducks and friendly strangers 15 minutes from my front door. Perhaps I really can get that cold-water thrill here in our capital city. Join me if you like — as long as you don’t mind the duck poo.
