By Andrew Salmon
Sometimes, a book starts a movement. So it was with "Waterlog" (1999) by the late British environmentalist Roger Deakin. The book is an ode to the human relationship with water.
Sprinkled with literary references, science and personal observation, it is beautiful and evocative, for swimming is the closest a human can come to flying. "Waterlog" captures this near-spiritual component perfectly. In his book, Deakin swims across and around the U.K., through ponds and lakes, streams and rivers, channels and beaches.
He drifts over submerged villages off the southwest coast; over 500-foot deep, flooded quarries where the water is so crystalline he can see his shadow following him across the bottom; across fields of waving grass in flooded meadows; through underwater "Fairy Holes" on the Isle of Skye. And more.
The book reads like a dream, perhaps because it whispers to something deep within our biological consciousness: the remembrance of total immersion in natural water.
Today, most people in developed countries experience water in carefully curated, sanitized environments: resort beaches, chlorinated swimming pools and temperature-controlled bathrooms.
Amid this reality, Deakin's work was a call to arms. The movement his book sparked, "wild swimming," is a process of re-invigoration.
Urbanism has maxed out in advanced economies. City dwellers demand green spaces. Interest in the environment is soaring. Wild swimming requires an intimate acquaintance with our most fluid environment, and not an anti-septic, pasteurized environment ― a real environment. Wild swimming presents a challenge: an adventure.
British water is chilly most of the year ― but cold water immersion has massively beneficial health effects. Swimming is a superb exercise for all ages ― and is entirely democratic, without any cost barrier. Non-curated swimming environments contain wild underwater flora and fauna ― but observation and experience engenders respect, making nature something to preserve, not to master or control.
Let's return to Korea.
In 2005, the five-day work week was instituted. The local leisure sector blossomed. Since then, the range of hobbies available to the average Kim has expanded many-fold. "Lifestyle" ― a concept hard-working Koreans of the 1960s, '70s and '80s never heard of ― is now a priority.
I was behind then-President Lee Myung-bak's "Four Rivers" project. While the idea of an inland transport channel lacked appeal, the project's second mission ― to increase public access to inland waterways, creating new leisure opportunities ― seemed on-target. Alas, the promise was unfulfilled. It descended into an environmental disaster.
Its predecessor, Seoul's Chongyecheon, has withstood time's test. The uncovering, filtering and re-landscaping of an inner-city blue lung was masterly. However, from today's perspective, it was too modest, not adventurous enough. The stream is too low to be seen from its banks. It is too shallow for swimming or other watersports.
But there is another, bigger possibility. Until the Han was dredged before the 1988 Olympics, it was an aquatic recreation zone for Seoulites. Contemporary photos show citizens enjoying the river, its sandbanks, its mid-channel islands.
Compared to the Thames or the Seine, the Han is broad ― a mighty volume of water. And City Hall has done a tremendous job in the last decade of creating riverside parks, paths and cycle tracks. Seoul's next big upgrade could be a rejuvenation of the water itself.
Imagine the possibility: Fresh-water beaches right in central Seoul!
And where Seoul goes, Korea follows. The project could be extended, opening other rivers nationwide to a new format of minimalist, non-invasive and pro-environmental leisure. The lessons of the four rivers project can be leveraged, for wild swimming requires no infrastructure.
However, it is predicated upon clean water. The cleanup of and environmental management of domestic watercourses is long-overdue. The time when Korea's rivers were mere channels for industrial effluents is now, surely, over.
In summer, when Koreans swim, they go to commercial swimming pools or hideously crowded beaches. Yet this nation's magnificent scenery encompasses mountain streams, reservoirs, lakes and rivers. Are these assets appreciated or overlooked in summertime?
For enhanced appreciation and care of aquatic nature, and for the physical and spiritual well being of the population, a wild-swimming movement in Korea is overdue.
Andrew Salmon (andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk) is a Seoul-based reporter and author.
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Sprinkled with literary references, science and personal observation, it is beautiful and evocative, for swimming is the closest a human can come to flying. "Waterlog" captures this near-spiritual component perfectly. In his book, Deakin swims across and around the U.K., through ponds and lakes, streams and rivers, channels and beaches.
He drifts over submerged villages off the southwest coast; over 500-foot deep, flooded quarries where the water is so crystalline he can see his shadow following him across the bottom; across fields of waving grass in flooded meadows; through underwater "Fairy Holes" on the Isle of Skye. And more.
The book reads like a dream, perhaps because it whispers to something deep within our biological consciousness: the remembrance of total immersion in natural water.
Today, most people in developed countries experience water in carefully curated, sanitized environments: resort beaches, chlorinated swimming pools and temperature-controlled bathrooms.
Amid this reality, Deakin's work was a call to arms. The movement his book sparked, "wild swimming," is a process of re-invigoration.
Urbanism has maxed out in advanced economies. City dwellers demand green spaces. Interest in the environment is soaring. Wild swimming requires an intimate acquaintance with our most fluid environment, and not an anti-septic, pasteurized environment ― a real environment. Wild swimming presents a challenge: an adventure.
British water is chilly most of the year ― but cold water immersion has massively beneficial health effects. Swimming is a superb exercise for all ages ― and is entirely democratic, without any cost barrier. Non-curated swimming environments contain wild underwater flora and fauna ― but observation and experience engenders respect, making nature something to preserve, not to master or control.
Let's return to Korea.
In 2005, the five-day work week was instituted. The local leisure sector blossomed. Since then, the range of hobbies available to the average Kim has expanded many-fold. "Lifestyle" ― a concept hard-working Koreans of the 1960s, '70s and '80s never heard of ― is now a priority.
I was behind then-President Lee Myung-bak's "Four Rivers" project. While the idea of an inland transport channel lacked appeal, the project's second mission ― to increase public access to inland waterways, creating new leisure opportunities ― seemed on-target. Alas, the promise was unfulfilled. It descended into an environmental disaster.
Its predecessor, Seoul's Chongyecheon, has withstood time's test. The uncovering, filtering and re-landscaping of an inner-city blue lung was masterly. However, from today's perspective, it was too modest, not adventurous enough. The stream is too low to be seen from its banks. It is too shallow for swimming or other watersports.
But there is another, bigger possibility. Until the Han was dredged before the 1988 Olympics, it was an aquatic recreation zone for Seoulites. Contemporary photos show citizens enjoying the river, its sandbanks, its mid-channel islands.
Compared to the Thames or the Seine, the Han is broad ― a mighty volume of water. And City Hall has done a tremendous job in the last decade of creating riverside parks, paths and cycle tracks. Seoul's next big upgrade could be a rejuvenation of the water itself.
Imagine the possibility: Fresh-water beaches right in central Seoul!
And where Seoul goes, Korea follows. The project could be extended, opening other rivers nationwide to a new format of minimalist, non-invasive and pro-environmental leisure. The lessons of the four rivers project can be leveraged, for wild swimming requires no infrastructure.
However, it is predicated upon clean water. The cleanup of and environmental management of domestic watercourses is long-overdue. The time when Korea's rivers were mere channels for industrial effluents is now, surely, over.
In summer, when Koreans swim, they go to commercial swimming pools or hideously crowded beaches. Yet this nation's magnificent scenery encompasses mountain streams, reservoirs, lakes and rivers. Are these assets appreciated or overlooked in summertime?
For enhanced appreciation and care of aquatic nature, and for the physical and spiritual well being of the population, a wild-swimming movement in Korea is overdue.
Andrew Salmon (andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk) is a Seoul-based reporter and author.
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