The Courier & Advertiser (Angus and Dundee)
Wild swimming: Take the plunge, leave worries on dry land.
Calum Maclean might never have swum in Fife, but ahead of a virtual talk focusing on the kingdom, he tells Nora Mcelhone that he is open to recommendations
B ased, like the rest of us, at home these days, selfemployed broadcaster Calum Maclean is missing that sense of freedom that underpinned much of his work pre-covid.
Calum works in both English and Scottish Gaelic and is perhaps best known for the films he has produced for the BBC’S The Social and BBC Alba series Dhan Uisge, which shared some of Scotland’s hidden swimming gems.
His easy, good-natured screen presence has helped him to build a strong social media following, which in turn has helped to keep things ticking over since last spring. “As there was no freedom to travel around day to day, a lot of filming projects were cancelled,” he says,
“I have moved into more paid social media work really as a result of lockdown.”
Calum moved to the beautiful Highland Perthshire village of Aberfeldy last year but misses travel in general and having easy access to the sea in particular.
In lieu of travelling, he says that during the first lockdown he “spent lots of time on the golf course, bivvied on the golf course, foraged wild garlic, did a lot of barefoot running”.
More recently he was even able to swim on the flooded course.
“Not having freedom I used to have – it is a pretty small complaint to have, I know,” he admits. “But being self-employed can be a lonely existence. I am mostly at home doing writing and planning, with occasional trips for TV production now that we are allowed to film outdoors.”
A general love of the outdoors means that Calum has enjoyed swimming in Scotland’s coastal waters, lochs and rivers since childhood and he has fond memories of family holidays on Ireland’s West Coast. “I didn’t used to swim at this time of year until four or five years ago,” he says.
Lockdown has seen a huge rise in people taking up and referring to open water or wild swimming, but Calum sees the pastime as a more natural extension of his general love of Scottish landscapes and exploring both land and water.
“These days I call myself an outdoor swimmer,” he says, “but it doesn’t bother me so much what people call it.”
During the summer, more relaxed travel restrictions meant that he was able to get to favourite swim spots, such as Arasaig on the West Coast, or the stunning blue-green Loch A’an tucked away in the Cairngorms, but for now he is focusing on finding new spots to swim close to home.
Sometimes it’s enough just to head for a dunk in a stream near the house. “It makes you feel calmer,” he says, “gives you a chance to think. There is an endorphic boost once you have had your swim.
“There is certainly an addictive element to swimming in cold water. I do feel a need for it if I go without it for a few days.”
He has even been known to resort to an ice bath, which he describes as being much easier than “swimming in Loch Tay – that’s a brutal cold. Being in an ice bath is more of a focused exercise.”
During tough times, Calum feels that cold water offers a great escape and there have been fewer times tougher than the last 12 months for many people.
“At the minute it can be quite easy to get annoyed by simple things,” he says, explaining that his swims and dips offer the chance to “wash the mundane away”.
When he gives his talk, I’ve Never Swam In Fife, online next week, Calum will cover a little bit of everything he enjoys, from the Gaelic language to swimming and “general outdoor shenanigans”.
“I was asked to give the talk by Kirsty Strachan ,who is the Fife Gaelic Development Officer. So I will chat about the outdoors in Scotland and give a bit of an insight into some Gaelic things, like descriptions of places, stories.”
He is a passionate native speaker, having grown up in a household where his father spoke Gaelic, and even his Australian mother learnt the language.
Apart from work with BBC Alba, “a lot of my videos try to bring the language in, put it in front of people, show that there is nothing to be intimidated by,” he says.
His love of the Gaelic influences much of his work with regular features, such as the fun Facal Friday Facebook posts currently exploring the language in the context of swimming in some pretty icy waters.
His slightly irreverent humour is to the fore as always, and he has the luxury of being in charge of the subtitles, which hasn’t always been the case in the past when, “I make some very funny jokes but they don’t translate it very well!”
Once life drifts back towards normality and restrictions are eased, Calum is looking forward to exploring new swim spots all over Scotland.
Despite having swum across the Forth he hasn’t yet had the opportunity to explore Fife’s beaches and lochs.
With that in mind, he is hoping that some of the audience members will be able to recommend some great locations for cold water therapy in Fife.
IT MAKES YOU FEEL CALMER, GIVES YOU A CHANCE TO THINK... I DO FEEL A NEED FOR IT IF I GO WITHOUT IT FOR A FEW DAYS
I’ve Never Swam In Fife is at 7.30pm on Wednesday March 10. Tickets are free and available via
It’s just another “manic Mum Day” and I cannot quite believe that during a period where some people are bored on furlough during lockdown, I feel like I’m juggling plates that are on fire while standing on one knee and answering the phone.
I can hear the tiny voice in my head shouting: “Well, well, well – if that just isn’t the consequences of your own actions.” Pipe down smug MJ, nobody needs your input here.
Probably just as well I’m a multi-tasker. I suppose it’s true what they say – if you want something done ask a busy person. Who the hell are “they” anyway? I’d quite like to meet them and give them a piece of my mind, even though I’m not prone to irrational, emotional outbursts – oh hold on, aye, sorry about me.
So, cheerio February. You wheeched through bringing us Valentine’s Day, snowy escapades, vaccinations and the promise of spring.
The mere implication that better times are hurtling towards us means I can no longer fight back the urge to believe change is on the horizon. I’m not daft enough to think that lockdown is miraculously going away. I’ll resist the urge to run out and hug those dearest to me, but they’ve been warned they are going to get lopsided Olympic-level hugs whether they like it or not when this is all over. My name is MJ and I’m a hugger.
With the absence of anyone else to indulge me, the mister and kids are bearing the brunt like weary troopers. I understand we’re not quite there yet, I’m OK so long as there are chinks of light and glimmers of hope peeking through like snowdrops, crocuses and daffodils.
March will bring with it my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary had they not checked out for celestial pastures. It would have been dad’s 82nd birthday and he’d have rocked it.
Mothering Sunday looms. A day when I will count my three blessings – they’ll be forced to endure more long hugs without complaint. We grew up on the west coast and each year my parents would drag the brother and I for a springtime day trip to Culzean Castle. My mum adored the long avenue lined with blossom trees. The Ayrshire coast is no Japan but it’s still a beautiful sight.
Petulant eight-yearold MJ was nevertheless unimpressed and just wanted the playpark or cafe.
Imagine being able to drive for an hour this year just to meander through petals flurrying down to the ground like a pastel carpet? Essential travel? No, but 44-yearold MJ would be there in a heartbeat, dragging my reluctant crew behind me.
Instead I’m elbow deep in PA duties for my children. Oh how I’d have laughed at that notion in 2019. We wanted to raise independent, resourceful kids and to some extent we’ve succeeded. I doubt anyone would have predicted I’d be organising Zoom meetings, chats with relatives, negotiating spreadsheets and juggling 47 different website names and passwords.
I’m still working on subject choices while passing out the snacks and making copies needed for a report due tomorrow. I’m thanked with a nod, told where to leave it and convinced I’m about to be asked to pencil in some time to discuss dinner plans later.
Meanwhile, the mister has just brought in yet another package. Curious as to what it is, I inform him it’s a gift for the kids’ teacher. Another for the kids’ chauffeur and cleaning lady will follow. Him: “So all for you then?”
March 2020 saw determined MJ who was going to get fit during quarantine. Nope, didn’t go quite to plan. I have, however, invested in a second phone charger (one of my parcels) so I don’t have to walk to the other room when my phone is dying.
While I applaud all you dedicated walker/jogger/ cyclist types in your fancy gear, I’m aware I’m rocking more of a “fallen into the PE lost property box chic” look.
Never mind, we’ll soon be able to shed some winter layers as the sun makes an overdue appearance, leading me to dig out the factor “duffle coat” for my Scottish blue skin.