the wild swimmer

My job? Hard to explain. Content broadcasting, mostly. Social media and that. I like to mix creativity with adventure. Especially in Scotland—something about the landscape just speaks to me. So I make videos about wild swimming. 

There was this one job, right—they sent me out to Loch Morar. Deepest loch in the UK. I was excited. But then it’s all risk assessments, safety boats, cost. In the end, they wanted me to stick to the shallows. Travel all that way just to have a wee paddle? 

So I went back. On my own. Swam right out to the deepest point. Filmed it. The video kind of took off. Got a lot of love on TikTok. And it let me talk more about the place—correct that presenter who was mangling the Gaelic. It’s not Vodka or Voodoo. It’s Voh-rag. Or a’Voh-rag if you’re speaking to her directly. 

I didn’t find the loch creepy. The surroundings maybe. There’s a wee graveyard on one of the islands. And the story about the grey dog—cu glas Mheobail—spawned these demon pups that tore a soldier apart. You heard that one? 

I’d read about the beastie in the loch—Morag—but I wasn’t fussed.  Probably just scanned Wikipedia. I feel at home in the water. I like the stories. Whether I believe them or not doesn’t really matter. Almost. 

See, I think stories tie us to places. People try to explain Morag away—say it’s just a seal or a deer—but that takes something out of the place. I’m into rational explanations, but not if it strips the magic. 

And it changes with the seasons. I've been there on sunny days, felt like joy. The top layer of the water’s warm enough you could skip the wetsuit. You can see the sunbeams piercing through. Then in winter, it’s a different place—cold, ominous. But that feeling? It comes from your own head. 

The depth doesn’t scare me. Whether it’s 20 metres or 300—it’s all the same to me. I can see my feet. And then it’s just... more of the same. Like a vacuum. For some folk, that's horrendous but for me? It feels like flying. That’s magic. 

There was this one time though, I did turn back. It was cold, choppy.  Something just felt off. I don’t normally get spooked, but that day—something spoke and it said no. Not today. 

I’ve met beasties while I’ve been swimming. Plenty of seals. A fish swam into my leg just yesterday.   I think it was a fish.  But nothing ever made me question what I saw. Not really. 

There’s these big heroes, get all the attention.  Loch Ness.  Loch Nessie. Nessie everything, everywhere. But there’s loads of local legends at risk of being forgotten. I want folk to know them. 

And I’d love to see a country where we don’t have to slap up signs saying “Don’t swim here—people have died.” A place where folk have the skills, the knowledge, to stay safe around water. So we can adventure without loss. 

I always say—pick up a map. Learn how to read it. Choose your own adventure. Like those old books. “To swim across Loch Morar, turn to page five.” That’d make a good video, actually. Click here to make me swim this loch today. Interactive. Aye, I love that.