It was in 2019 when I discovered them. Exactly 50 years after the summer of love… I never realised that until now. I remember last summer so fondly, as a haze of leafy London with those wild swims punctuating the heat of the city. I was writing my master’s dissertation from May through August, but my time was flexible, and I felt quite fulfilled by the freedom of my studies. The weather was good, offering that beginning of summer feeling – a promise of long sunlit days that would dip into stretched out evenings tinting the sky cool amber and lilac. My university friends and I would soon start exploring new areas of London – the city we were keen to call home. We discovered pop-up markets, picturesque mews, old pubs and quaint cafes on our walks. We visited the affluent areas of Hampstead and Highgate, and it was around then that we discovered the Kenwood Ladies bathing pond. 

That water was a sanctuary of tamed wilderness right in the heart of luxuriant north London! To be swimming surrounded by nature, seemingly secluded and just 20 minutes after having been in the heavy city smog, was always a welcome surprise to the senses. The first time was after one of those notoriously humid tube journeys that characterise a London summer, where a film of sweat clings to the skin. It was followed by a walk up the sloping hill of Highgate Road. We reached the grassy lands of the heath, following the stone path down to the inconspicuous entrance of the ponds. This space appeared enshrined in greenery, hidden from the rest of the expansive heath and its views of the city skyline. A well-preserved club only for ladies in the know, it appeared. 

Carrying with us the sweat of the journey, it was blissful to see the glint of water through the shrubs that encircled the ponds. They lightly blew in the June breeze, like a secret message enticing you into the still water. A light-hearted invitation to give into the offerings of nature. Immediately stripping down to the bare essentials, we would make our way to the edge of the pond and step in. Cool and calm, as freshwater is – a completely different feel to the sea. And so, with giddy excitement, we swam, with fellow swimmers around us and resident ducks unaffected by our soon-to-be regular presence. I began to associate that feeling with the beginning of a joy that leant itself entirely to nature’s modest abilities. Then there is the slight tingling feeling of numbness when exiting, allowing the dappled sunlight to take its time embalming the body, its orange phosphenes playing behind closed eyelids while we dry under the foliage-formed natural skylight. A moment flooded with a soft thrill, with the skin absorbing delight and radiating its thanks. That was the first time, and I was hooked. 

I would return all summer to that special patch of green and brown hues, with the sun’s rays landing in the grassy space, yielding to the environment for an hour or two. It served as a serene balm to the soul, escaping from any outside distractions. A little trip I could take in exchange for just a slice of my day. As much as I enjoy this city, it has a knack of getting under the skin. Returning to the pond was a sigh of relief that I didn’t know was necessary until I arrived in that field each time. Beyond the immediate sensory delights, there was a reminder that the simplest and most natural things in this life are the ones that provide us with lasting joy. The roots of transcendentalist philosophy are planted inside me, and I am reminded of Emerson, Thoreau and Whitman. This pond was my Walden, and I was never more convinced of the best ways to live than when I spent time here. The more I appreciated it, the more it became apparent that the symphony of nature was always present, always surrounding us, but not always heard by those who pass through it. Unlike so many other things in life, especially in your 20s in London, nature was not ephemeral. 

That summer of wild swims, picnic blankets and sunbathing, framed in a veil of blooming trees and swaying shrubs, made such beautiful memories for me. A memento that this was joy and that it was available to return to at any point, was refreshment and solace in itself.