A Changing Relationship with Water: Coping with Hearing Loss

I am a water baby. Growing up on the west coast of Scotland, a huge proportion of my memories involve being in, or at least next to, the sea. I swam in the sea, I sea kayaked in the sea, and all year round I walked alongside the sea.  At University, I joined the canoe club, escaping the city at the weekends to journey down Scotland's rivers. Whitewater kayaking was a whole new experience for me, and I spent a lot of time not in my boat, bobbing along in the river flow, thankful for my dry suit. I remember someone saying: "You have a dry suit - you must be really good!" I laughed in response: "Oh no, I swim all the time. That is why I have a dry suit!"

After University, in 2016, I noticed a sudden change in my hearing, and what felt like quite a long time later I was diagnosed with otosclerosis, a (in my case genetic) hearing impairment.  I was presented with one hearing aid, and a few months later I received my second. Hearing aids are incredible and they very quickly made a significant improvement to my quality of life, but they don't replace normal working ears. When water is involved, they are very little use at all. When I want to swim, they have to come out. 

Everything changes when I take out my hearing aids.  The world goes quieter, and I'm so aware of the void. It's hard to explain - I'm aware there is noise there, but my surroundings are muffled.  I also feel less aware of what is going on around me.  I am different too; my whole self is altered. I am shyer, more vulnerable, less confident.  I feel like a shadow of my full self.

I remember one day last summer when I took my hearing aids out before making the 5 minute walk to my swim spot.  Honestly, I'm surprised I had the courage.  It's not something I've done since. I walked swiftly down the road and avoided eye contact with anyone. I just wanted - needed - to get to the river. I remember breathing out a sigh of relief once I got there.  The river calmed, cooled and soothed me, and I hadn't even plunged in yet.  Once in, my senses just tuned into the water around me. I hoped that if I needed to be alerted to anything on the riverbank, Orchy would bark loud enough to grab my attention.  Breast stroking through the deep green-brown, I allowed myself to be at peace with the small bubble of awareness around me: the shifting shape of the river, and my movement within it.

It is easier when I'm alone to accept the quiet.  The social element of wild swimming, and any other watersports, has changed.  When I get changed, the final part of undressing comes with a reminder to those around me: "Right I'm taking my hearing aids out now!"  Taking them out is like putting down a protective shield.

My relationship with white water kayaking, already a dwindled passion due to lack of practice and the fear of capsizing, getting pinned on a rock, etc, has suffered a further blow with the onset of hearing loss.  I never want to go anymore.  It's not that I don't want to be on the river, but I'm put off by the extra barrier involved.  What if I don't hear an important instruction?  However, I recently adventured down a local river with Ben and Orchy, and it felt so freeing to be journeying downstream again. Being in the open canoe, with Ben controlling from the back, I felt less likely to fall in, and therefore felt confident enough to wear one old hearing aid to help me hear his instructions from the stern.  However, I'm lucky I have that spare pair of hearing aids.  It's not like glasses where people often have more than one.  I'm more protective about my hearing aids than I am about anything else these days.     

As Jack Johnson famously sings, I'm just sitting waiting wishing... in this case for an operation to, hopefully, fix one ear.  Then hopefully, in time, another to fix the other.  As I get used to my changing relationship with the water, I remember that I still love to be immersed in it, and that when I'm swimming, it is helping me to come to terms with the situation.  One day, this phase of my life will hopefully be fixed and put down to life experience.  Until then, I will swim on.

 

All photos by Ben McKeown, with thanks <3

Wacky for Wool; Mad for Merino

When autumn and winter are on the horizon, I'm sure I'm not the only one who looks forward to cosying up under bobble hats, scarves and mittens on crisp winter walks. I love double-sock layering, and consuming guilt-free hot chocolates whilst binge watching Netflix and snuggling under a cosy blanket.  This winter, I have also become especially, and exceptionally, wacky for woolly jumpers and mad for merino base layers. I'm hooked.  Some days, every item of clothing I am wearing is wool.

Autumn is the start of base layer season for me. This top is a lovely Kari Traa eBay bargain
Photo by Ben McKeown

Woolly Wins! 

I used to just wear fleeces as an overlayer in the wintertime, but in the last few years I came by some lovely knits, and they definitely keep me warmer. Snug as a bug in a rug! My collection has steadily built up since (something which has not gone unnoticed by Ben).

Wool doesn't need to be washed so often - it really doesn't get stinky for days, unlike cotton which I find needs a wash after just two days wear (armpit test!). This means less cycles in the machine, a save in energy and not having to try to get stuff dry as often inside in the wintertime. I tend to find myself living in properties at risk of condensation dampness, so the less drying washing the better - although it can be a fine line between extending the wear of something and it getting stinky! I also find wool airs really well outside (fleeces do to some extent too), so often air my jumpers instead of washing them. I tend to do a big hand-wash of woolly jumpers in the springtime - shrunken jumpers are best avoided!

All about the Base

This Finisterre merino top is a lighter one - great for hiking when you know you're going to work up a sweat. Photo by Ben McKeown

Merino base layer tops are all I have worn this winter. Merino tops come in a variety of thicknesses, so its worth thinking about what you want it for. I tend to wear lightweight merino in the spring, and heavier ones through autumn and winter. Merino is fantastic for regulating your temperature - it keeps you cool when you're warm and warms you when you're cold. 

This winter has been so cold that I've resorted to sleeping in merino layers too. I have a Kari Traa merino onesie (last I looked it was still available on Sportpursuit!) and it is the most wonderful item of clothing... until you need to go to the toilet! 🙈🥶

For winter running and mountain biking, I use merino blend tops, which tend to be made of polyester and/or polyamide alongside merino. Unlike my purely synthetic running tops, these ones can be worn for multiple runs/rides before I need to wash them. 

On winter hillwalking days, I wear thicker merino tops, such as Smartwool's 250 crew or Kari Traa 100% merino tops, and merino leggings underneath my walking trousers. 

Layers of Knit

All about the wool, especially when yoga practice is in a cold room!

Layering is key to winter warmth and comfort, especially when spending hours sitting working from home, and trying to balance the thermostat so you're not shivering but not paying a fortune on the electricity bill!

Some days it's a merino bra and base layer, thinner woolly jumper and fleece on top. Other days it's the merino undergarments and a thick woolly jumper overlayer. On really cold days I throw an insulated gilet on top. Can you tell I hate being cold?! I recently saw a photo on Instagram of a Scandinavian lady working from home in a sleeping bag that had arm holes... maybe that's the next step?!

Are you after some new woolly wonders? Here are my favourite places to buy woolly garments:

Hiking in Norway in another fabulous Kari Traa top. Photo by Ben McKeown

I absolutely love my Finisterre woolly jumpers and base layers. They are really pricey brand new, so I wait for their sales or, most often, buy secondhand on eBay and Depop. Finisterre are an ethical and eco British brand based in Cornwall. I can especially recommend their chunky rollnecks.

If you haven't signed up for Sportpursuit yet, you're missing a trick (but your bank balance is probably healthier than mine!). Sportpursuit sell mega brands at mega deals. You have to sign up and they have daily flash sales. Wonderful woolly brands to look out for include Kari Traa, Smartwool, Super Natural, Icebreaker and Isobaa. 

Howies have lovely jumpers and base layer tops, and are an independent Welsh company (they were bought by Timbaland years ago but thankfully are independent again).  Again it's worth waiting for a sale, or buying second hand. 

For running, my favourites are sadly designs that aren't available anymore, but they can be found on eBay and Depop sometimes, and I'm sure the brands have similar designs out there. My favourites are the Sweaty Betty Elite Merino Run Hoody and the Lululemon Woolly Wunder and Swiftly Wool tops, all bought second hand.

Most of these brands create their garments from ethically sourced wool. To read more about this, see this website.

Hunkering down for... summer?

The term "hunkering down". Normally associated with winter. A cold wind howling through the trees, funnelling through the valley. Watching out the window torrential rain ricochets off the bins, water streaming down the concrete road. "Hunkering down" and lighting a fire, cuddling into a blanket with a good book and a mug of swirling hot chocolate.

What is this hunkering down in summertime? The weather outside is mild, with occasional sunshine brightening the room. 

"Hunkering down" in summer is not to be associated with the weather, but with people.

Seeking out quiet corners of Snowdonia. Photo by Ben McKeown @thebigbluetree

I accepted this mentality a couple of Saturdays back. The surf report was good. There may even have been sunshine. But, getting to the beach could be compared to "running the gauntlet." North Wales' roads are probably best described as "chocca" at the moment. I don't actually feel safe on the roads. So many fast cars with tinted windows acting as though they are on a racetrack. So, we messaged our friend to say sorry, we couldn't face trying to get there. She replied in understanding. "It's fine once you're here....but you got to get here."

We last surfed on one of the last days before Wales opened up its borders again. Even on that day, the car park was busy. What would it be like now?

Adding to my "stay at home" mentality was recent police reports of increased numbers of dogs being stolen in Wales - particularly spaniels. Leaving the dog in my car while we surf? Perhaps not. 

I would normally quite happily describe myself as "a people person." What is happening to me? What has this new Covid-19 age done to me? 

Our last visit to the beach, just before Wales opened up its borders

Here is the answer:

1. A normal tourist season has a gradual build up of visitors, starting around easter time and peaking in August during the summer holidays. This is not a normal tourist season. We have gone from none, to BOOM! Everyone is here.

2. Everyone really is here... people are not travelling abroad. The famous term "Brits abroad" has now morphed into "The Great British Staycation." Our overpopulated island is holidaying in the countryside. 

3. Lockdown gave me a greater realisation of the ridiculous numbers of second homes, leading me to anger. Our house was surrounded by dark buildings during lockdown, which now have a new BMW or Discovery parked outside every week. Villages are losing their communities. The burdens of living in "honeypots" are pushing the locals out. 

4. Mess. Mess left by people. Litter. Burned grass from fire pits. Abandoned tents. Human poo and bits of toilet tissue. That same Saturday, we walked in our fairly quiet village, and found Budweiser bottles and Mickey Fins left in the river. My blood boils in frustration.

All this has lead to my loss of faith in humanity, in our nation. As a teenager, born in England and growing up in Scotland, I used to proudly call myself British. But with our current government in Westminster, and the behaviour of some of the British public, I hide my face in my hands and wish I belonged elsewhere. Then I tell myself off, remind myself of everything I love about the United Kingdom, how grateful I am to live in this quieter valley, and take the dog out for a peaceful walk in the woods. It's about knowing where to go, where to avoid. I'll hunker down in the summer and look forward to the onset of autumn.

What is it about islands?

I've been thinking a lot about islands recently, after a sunny day visit to a beautiful island off the North Wales coast.

What is it about islands? They carry their own magic. They feel special, unique. 

Looking back to the mainland from an island off the North Wales coast

"Island life". The term conjures such romantic images in my mind (and in the minds of many I'm sure). Communities of "locals" and "incomers". Coastal treasures. Crystal blue water. Fishing boats. Jetties covered in creels and broken boats. Deep red sunsets. Lighthouses beaming both warning and safety to passing ships. Wild weather lasting for days. Powercuts. A bustling local pub. Crofts with far roaming sheep. Working the land. Wildlife galore. Cosy cottages. Secret beaches. Sleepy winters. Busy summers.

Taking the boat over the water a few weekends ago felt, in some ways, like I was travelling to a part of "home" within myself. I'm not even sure if that makes sense. I'd never been to this island before, but something about travelling away from the mainland brought a warm fuzzy feeling to my heart. Whilst I did not grow up living "island life", it was pretty close, surrounded to the north, west and south by seawater. We regularly took a ferry ride to get home. That life, living "way out west", so intwined in nature, regularly buffeted by westerly winds, does feel like a part of who I am. The environment I grew up in has, no doubt, shaped me as a person. Everyday, I miss the sea, as though we are in some form of long distance relationship (though, I know the sea does not miss me). That longing is buried deep in my soul. It never fades. 

So grateful for the experiences island visits have given me. Photo by Ben McKeown @thebigbluetree

Yet my visit to that island was merely a day trip adventure. After a wonderful few hours of walking, gazing out to sea, watching lazy seals and day dreaming about what life would be like in this little place, it was time to leave. We were back on the boat, passing the guardians of the island, the true locals: communities of puffins, guillemots, cormorants, gulls. Motoring away, their little pockets of homes in the cliffs becoming all the more distant, and the fuzzy feeling in my heart steadily evaporating into the salty air.

Where do I belong? Such a complicated question. Simply, I belong in a quiet place, surrounded by nature. I think I belong, not necessarily on an island, but certainly by the sea. I dread being asked "where are you from?" It's too complicated. My accent is a ever-changing concoction, affected by who I am talking to. People cannot work out where I am from. I am not really sure where I am from, but I can say where I have lived, and where felt like home. An island could certainly be a home, but whether I will ever fully belong there... will I ever fully "belong" anywhere? And what is it about islands, that instil this longing in me?

My best friend, stood on her island, gazing back to the peninsula where we grew up together

  

Campervan Hostility

I have just discovered the facebook page of Cameron McNeish, "writer and mountain bum", who is writing a lot at the moment about the hostility towards campervans in Scotland.  His facebook page is well worth a browse, and I especially recommend reading the post which starts with:

 "I must admit I'm becoming increasingly frustrated by those community and regional councillors who think the only way to deal with the burgeoning numbers of campervans and motorhomes is by creating bylaws to ban them. The excuse is that campervanners leave litter and faeces behind them."

Day parking on Tiree. Our croft campsite was nearby for the evening/night. See my post on Tiree for more details on camping there

I have been discussing, experiencing and pondering the issues of increased numbers of people in the countryside. I admit, I'm pretty good at moaning about things, but what the whole of the UK needs right now (not just Scotland) is some progressive action. Here is a comment which I wrote on Cameron's post:

What is finally becoming clear to me is that any hope of a "cognitive fix", or "educating the public" to be responsible campervanners is a lost hope. And I work in environmental education!

I agree that the majority of campervanners leave no trace, but with an influx of Brits unable to be the typical "Brits abroad" we now have some who are leaving despicable messes in our wild places. Do campervan companies need to take more responsibility? Ialso totally agree with you that the bylaw in Loch Lomond has worked as a "structural fix" there, but has only moved the problem elsewhere. Yet with a National Park status and an army of rangers, perhaps the problems of mess being left were better tackled there? As a river kayaker at University from 2007-11, I regularly camped at Glen Etive and I don't remember it being terribly busy at all, or seeing much mess there. How times have changed.

However, we have to accept that the UK is simply overpopulated, and we will probably never be able to function like Scandinavian countries when it comes to just being able to park up and live the van life - or certainly not in the busier "honeypot" areas. This breaks my heart to say. In these places, we need some options for people.

I grew up on a west coast peninsula which had one campsite and a lot of hostility towards those who didn't use it. I then holidayed in the Hebrides and saw the forward thinking that was happening there - little spaces with signs saying "park here overnight for a small fee", or bigger car parks with a small fee paid to the local crofter. This is certainly what is needed.

As other people have also said, a lot can be learned from other countries. Pretty much every second vehicle in NZ is a campervan, and they have excellent Department of Conservation campsites dotted all over the country, costing very little money, and some are free. We need more systems like this, not bylaws, which, I feel, takes away a basic human right.

 

Why So Many Leggings? Part 4: Patagonia

As someone who works in environmental education, I try to practice what I preach and live a more environmentally friendly lifestyle.

My downfall?

Leggings.

During lockdown/furlough, I have been practicing a lot of yoga and enjoying lots of runs on my local trails. I admit I have spent a lot of time on ebay looking at second hand leggings, and doing a fair bit of buying/selling. So I figured it was time to own up to my legging obsession, and share a little of what I've found out. It's tricky when you need leggings for running, leggings for yoga, leggings for hiking, leggings that can dress up/dress down, leggings for lounging... could there really be one pair to rule them all? And what are the eco credentials of the big brands?

These leggings were a second hand bargain and are great for hiking and yoga

Leaders of the Pack? Patagonia

Patagonia - where to begin? The pioneers of creating more environmentally friendly, made-to-last, ethical clothing and equipment. They are a founding member of 1% for the planet, and support many Grassroots charities. Nicknamed by many as "Patagucci", their products come at a price, but there is also a huge second hand market, which is even encouraged by the brand through their "Worn Wear" campaign.

But what about their leggings?

As I buy almost all my leggings second hand, looking for a pair of Patagonia leggings on the likes of ebay and depop is like panning for gold. You might pop on at just the right time and hit the jackpot, as I did with a pair of full length Centred Tights. 

Like many brands, Patagonia have created different leggings for different activities, with this pair designed more specifically for yoga. However, the reviews show them as an all-rounder: yoga, running, even hardy enough for climbing. Made with recycled polyester, Fair Trade sewn, and with links to the mill and factory, Patagonia really are the best in documenting the journey of their clothes. 

Wearing my Centred Crops for an afternoon yoga practice

Perhaps these are the one legging to rule them all? Colourful designs for running and yoga,  and their plain black ones can be dressed up. Comfortable, hardy, ethical, environmentally friendly... what more needs to be said? 

Why So Many Leggings? Part 3: Sweaty Betty

As someone who works in environmental education, I try to practice what I preach and live a more environmentally friendly lifestyle.

My downfall?

Leggings.

During lockdown/furlough, I have been practicing a lot of yoga and enjoying lots of runs on my local trails. I admit I have spent a lot of time on ebay looking at second hand leggings, and doing a fair bit of buying/selling. So I figured it was time to own up to my legging obsession, and share a little of what I've found out. It's tricky when you need leggings for running, leggings for yoga, leggings for hiking, leggings that can dress up/dress down, leggings for lounging... could there really be one pair to rule them all? And what are the eco credentials of the big brands?

Hiking in my Sweaty Betty Chandrasana leggings in the Outer Hebrides. Photo by Ben McKeown (@thebigbluetree)

The Great British Brand? Sweaty Betty

Sweaty Betty. Are they the UK's version of monster company Lululemon (see Part 1 of this series), or are they more green and ethical?

Like Lululemon, Sweaty Betty leggings are expensive, costing around £80 a pair. Also like Lululemon, there is an excellent second hand market on Ebay and Depop. Sweaty Betty also make leggings for different purposes - for instance, Power for running and the new Super Sculpt for yoga, amongst others. However, SB leggings are good all-rounders.

Clearly I'm behind the times with SB, as I have always been a fan of their Chandrasana Reversible Leggings. On one side plain black, perfect for dressing up or going to work, and a pattern on the other for yoga/hiking/lounging. I have two pairs of these, both bought second hand and worn a lot over the years, and they are still going strong. 

What about their pledge to the environment and their ethical considerations? There is a whole page on their website about Sustainability and the journey they are making. It makes a much more interesting read than the same page on the Lululemon website. SB are using recycled cotton and bamboo in their clothing (see my previous post about bamboo here), and 17 plastic bottles are used to create their new Super Sculpt leggings. There is a section about the changes they are making in-store to be more environmentally friendly (such as not using plastic bottles), and they make their factory standards clear (but do not go as far as Patagonia in sharing exactly what factories they are using). 

In conclusion, Sweaty Betty definitely beat Lululemon with their ethical and green credentials. Speaking from years of using SB, their leggings are certainly made to last, with barely any pilling on my Chandrasana pairs even after years of washing at 30 degrees. I think it's a shame they are no longer selling reversible leggings, which offer the best of both worlds, though this may change. I use them for work, lounging, yoga and I have hiked up mountains in them. Like with my BAM leggings, I choose not to run in them, as they are quite thick and I prefer a more lycra feel of material for running. 

If you've got the cash, it's nice to know you're supporting a British company which is moving in the right direction for our climate and its inhabitants. Not got that cash? Swipe through Ebay and Depop for your perfect pair on a budget.