Wild Waters and the Search for Joy
The Year I Lay my Head in Water by Laura Hall
Laura Hall was living her dream life in Copenhagen while simultaneously feeling burnt out, stressed, and numb. Faced with this crossroads, she became determined to find a more authentic way of living — one that enriched and energised rather than drained and depleted. What followed was an adventure, an immersion into nature across iceberg-filled seas and jellyfish-infested beaches, a wild and vibrant experience that ultimately led her back to herself. And it all began with something simple, a swim in Copenhagen harbour on a frosty November morning.
Laura’s home overlooks the harbour directly. Each day she is greeted by the ocean: boats sailing past, neighbours shrugging off dressing gowns for a quick dip, or, for the less modest, diving in headfirst and stark naked. Water was already central to her life, so a swim seemed like a simple solution — she hoped the cold would shock her back to life. Initially, the freezing water did exactly that. But afterwards, standing on the dock pink-skinned and glowing, Laura felt anything but numb. She felt alive.
What began as a few tentative swims soon escalated into something much larger. Within the space of a year, Laura had fallen in love with cold-water swimming, flinging herself into the freezing waters of Greenland, the Viking spas of Iceland, and the beaches and piers of Sweden, Norway, and Denmark. Her adventures were a joy to read. The thrill of the cold felt visceral on the page, while the fear of a stray jellyfish lingered constantly at the edges of my imagination. I was struck not only by the vulnerability of her writing, but by the vulnerability of the experience itself: the surrender involved in trying to rediscover happiness, and the trust required when entering waters cold enough to make your body feel unfamiliar to you.
Throughout the year, Laura arrives at several reflections. The sense of community she found through swimming did not surprise me at all; is there anything stronger, cooler or hardier than the women who cold-water swim? Laura certainly found many of them. One particularly interesting observation she makes is the difference between how men and women engage with nature: while men often seek to compete within it, women seem more content simply to exist and find joy within it. Another of her most powerful reflections centres on nature itself — its importance in our daily lives and its extraordinary ability to ground, centre, and hold us.
Like Laura, I am a cold-water lover too. The shock of freezing water is something that brings me back to myself and makes me feel innately human. More than once, I have travelled across London in search of a cold-water plunge to lift my spirits. I have also travelled to Copenhagen and seen the culture that exists there: swimming spots dotted throughout the city, floating saunas lining the canals, and a grounded sense of community rooted in nature. All of this meant I felt Laura’s words deeply, and I finished the book feeling as though I had plunged into the icy water myself — emerging pink-skinned, exhilarated, and just a little more alive. If any of that speaks to you, I would highly recommend taking the plunge (pun intended) and giving it a read!
This review was written by our Lead Reviewer, Jess Pagel. When Jess isn’t plunging into freezing waters, you can find her reviewing books at @fiftytwo_books.
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