There is no real reason to throw yourself into freezing water. And yet, people keep doing it.

Wild swimming has always been a thing, but the last few years have turned it into a cultural moment. It’s no longer just the preserve of shivering men in old Speedos or your one aunt who swears by it for “mental clarity.” Now, it’s an aesthetic. A personality type. A lifestyle.

At some point, it stopped being about just swimming and became about the plunge. The shock. The Dryrobe-wearing, sea-slicked, vaguely transcendent look of someone who has “reset” themselves in water that would legally be classified as hypothermic in most other countries.

Dubliners think they invented this. But Wicklow is where you go to prove it.

The Ritual of Freezing to Death

Wild swimming is older than the concept of hygiene. The Celts were doing it before the Romans even built their first bathhouse. It’s monastic. Pagan. The closest thing you can get to full-body baptism without joining a cult.

It’s also a direct pipeline to smugness. There is no one more unbearable than someone who has just completed a sea swim. They will tell you about it. They will look at you with pity, as if to say, You wouldn’t get it.

Where are they all going? Here’s the unofficial guide.

The Places Where People Go to Swim in Wicklow 

10 Lough Dan — The ‘Real’ One

Every wild swimmer hits a point where they start gatekeeping. “The Forty Foot is grand, but have you done Lough Dan?”

Lough Dan is remote. You hike in, which means no car parks, no cafés, and no accidental swimmers. The lake itself is a long, black crescent, cradled by mountains. The kind of place that makes you feel like you’re starring in a film. Perfect place to go for a Swim in Wicklow.

The water is dark, deep, and not for messing. A baptismal experience, in the sense that it could very well be your last.

Vibe: Secret club, but without the club.
Best time to go: At dawn, when the water looks like glass and your phone has no signal.
Warning: If you get into trouble, there is no one around to save you. Not even your pride.

09. Lough Ouler — The Ice Bath Bros Would Love This

Glacial. That’s the only word for it. This is a short hike from the Glenmacnass River, tumbling down from Sally Gap. This is where you go if you’re the type of person who voluntarily takes cold showers and says things like “I just love the burn.”

The lough is like a natural ice bath, perfect for five-second dips that make your nervous system reset like a factory reboot. Bonus: the setting is unreal. Heather, rock, sky. A proper National Geographic moment—if you don’t get hypothermia first.

Vibe: Wim Hof starter pack.
Best time to go: Midweek, when you won’t have an audience for your panic-gasping.
Warning: Rocks are slippery. Exit strategy is key.

08. Brittas Bay — The ‘Wellness’ One

Some people want their wild swimming with a side of reliability. Brittas Bay is for them. It’s a five-kilometre-long sandy beach with rolling dunes and (crucially) lifeguards in summer. The water is crisp, clear, and manageable—no sudden drops, no hidden rocks, just the slow in-and-out of the tide.

This is where you’ll find the wellness girlies. The ones who swim, then stretch on the beach in matching activewear. The ones who talk about “nourishing movement.” If you’re a long-distance sea swimmer, this is your turf.

Vibe: Hot Girl Winter Swim in Wicklow.
Best time to go: Sunrise, when the only witnesses to your mermaid moment are seagulls and one very committed paddleboarder.
Warning: The rip currents are sneaky. Watch the flags.

07. Glendalough Upper Lake — The Cinematic One

If Andrei Tarkovsky Directed a Swim Spot was a place, this would be it.

Glendalough’s Upper Lake is vast, dark, and framed by sheer cliffs. The water is inky and still, except for the ripples you make breaking the surface. It’s cold even in summer—so cold it feels existential.

If Brittas Bay is a wellness swim, Glendalough is a spiritual swim. You don’t just swim here, you contemplate. Existential crises are included in the experience, free of charge.

Vibe: Wild Swim in Wicklow as Art.
Best time to go: Dusk, when the last light hits the mountains and everything turns golden.
Warning: Your bones will ache. That’s part of the deal.

06. Greystones Ladies Cove — The Hardcore One

Greystones has its own Forty Foot, and it’s not for the faint-hearted. This is a natural rock pool at the south end of the beach, perfect for year-round sea swimmers.

If you’ve ever met someone who says, “It’s actually warmer in the water,” they probably swim here. They are lying. But they are also committed.

The sea here is deep, wild, and often rough. No gentle wading. You get in, you swim, you get out. Then you tell everyone you did it.

Vibe: The Dryrobe Disciples.
Best time to go: Misty mornings, when the sea looks endless.
Warning: Slippery rocks. Insufferable post-swim chats.

05. The Meeting of the Waters – The Freshwater Thrill Seeker’s Choice

Not all wild swimming needs to happen in deep, foreboding lakes or open sea. Sometimes, you just need water to throw yourself into. The Meeting of the Waters is the renowned wild swimming spot situated near the village of Rathdrum perfect for just that. This picturesque location is where the Avonmore and Avonbeg Rivers merge, forming the start of the Avoca River.

It rivers through the Wicklow Mountains, cold and fast, forming natural plunge pools along the way. The water is tea-coloured (thanks, bogs) and the whole thing feels extremely off-grid, except for the occasional fly-fisherman who will stare at you like you’ve lost your mind.

Vibe: Much calmer than you’d expect.
Best time to go: Summer, when you actually have a chance of warming up afterwards.
Warning: Rivers move. This is not a “float and chat” situation.

04. Lough Bray – The One That Feels Cursed, In A Good Way

Perched high in the mountains near Glencree, this place looks like it was designed for a gothic novel. It’s ringed by cliffs, permanently windswept, and just remote enough that you half expect to see a ghostly figure staring at you from the far shore. The water? Black as night. Cold as sin. Feels vaguely enchanted.

It’s split into Upper and Lower Lough Bray. Upper is smaller and more dramatic. Lower is bigger, calmer, and has slightly more reassuring energy. Both will make you feel like you’re about to see something you weren’t supposed to see.

Vibe: Folk horror, but fun Swim in Wicklow.
Best time to go: Misty mornings, when it’s even more atmospheric.
Warning: No easy entry points—expect to scramble down.

03. Silver Strand – The One That’s Stupidly Pretty

A hidden, crescent-shaped beach just south of Wicklow Town, this place looks like it was stolen from a postcard. The water is clear, the sand is soft, and it’s got that sheltered, tucked-away feel that makes it seem private, even when it isn’t.

The catch? It’s technically on private land, but if you walk in from the coastal path, you’re golden. It’s also popular—if the sun is out, expect half of Wicklow to have the same idea.

Vibe: Secret beach energy, minus the secrecy.
Best time to go: Midweek, when you don’t have to fight for towel space.
Warning: Getting there involves some mild trespassing. Allegedly.

02. The Devil’s Glen – The One That Feels Illegal But Isn’t

It features a series of natural pools and small waterfalls along the Vartry River, accessible via a short hike from the Devil’s Glen Forest car park. The river’s sheltered surroundings, particularly near the waterfall, create strong winds, making for an invigorating swim.

It’s huge, silent, and eerily still, with the kind of mirror-flat water that makes you feel like you’re in a dream sequence. You’ll likely have it to yourself, because most people assume it’s off-limits (officially, yes; realistically, no one is checking).

Bonus points for the fact that it’s freshwater, so you don’t have to deal with post-swim salt crust.

Vibe: Feels forbidden, but isn’t Swim in Wicklow
Best time to go: Sunset, when the reflections are unreal.
Warning: The “Am I Allowed To Be Here?” paranoia is part of the experience.

01. Magheramore Beach – The Indie Darling of Wild Swimming Spots

If Brittas Bay is the mainstream blockbuster, Magheramore is the indie film with a cult following.

Tucked just south of Wicklow Town, this is a smaller, quieter, and arguably more beautiful alternative to the bigger beaches. The cliffs give it a hidden gem feel, and the water is as crisp and clear as it gets on the Irish coast. It’s a favourite among real sea swimmers—the ones who own multiple pairs of neoprene gloves and take their recovery snacks very seriously.

It’s also the kind of place that could easily be ruined by popularity. So, if you do go, keep it sacred.

Vibe: Underground favourite Swim in Wicklow.
Best time to go: Early morning, before anyone else gets the memo.
Warning: You’ll never want to swim anywhere else again.

The Cultural Moment of Wild Swimming

Wild swimming isn’t new. It’s just suddenly…everywhere.

The influencers have arrived, turning it into the physical manifestation of the wellness-to-hyperfixation pipeline. Instagram is full of slow-motion shots of people stepping into lakes with perfect posture. TikTok has a hundred different “Why I Started Wild Swimming” explainers, most of which boil down to “I saw someone else do it, and now I can’t stop.”

There’s also an emerging crossover between wild swimming and fitness culture. The same people who were doing ultramarathons in 2020 are now dunking themselves in the Atlantic at sunrise. It’s become part of the broader “embrace suffering” movement—cold showers, 5am wake-ups, 75 Hard. We have made voluntary discomfort a personality trait.

Wild swimming is equal parts endurance test, aesthetic, and semi-spiritual rebirth. If you’re still asking why people do it, you probably haven’t done it yet. Because the truth is: the cold will always be a shock, the first plunge is always the hardest, and the only way to warm up is to do it all over again.