December 2025. Venue: Dosthill Quarry, Wigford Road, Dosthill, Tamworth, Staffordshire.
https://diveandswim.online/dosthill-quarry-swim-bookings/ Satnav: B77 1LL
Amenities:
* Car park
* Refreshments
* Indoor and Outdoor changing facilities
* Toilets
* Lifeguard
* Equipment shop
The mornings are becoming darker. It’s the first week in December, and all of a sudden, I find myself waking up at 7am in black surroundings. Outside, the wet, shining street reflects headlights sweeping around the corner and the intermittent blue and silver glow of Christmas lights held in a swag outside next door’s garage, and left on overnight.
A kind colleague pointed out that it won’t be for much longer; we’re a fortnight away from the Winter Solstice and the promise of lighter evenings, followed by brighter mornings and longer days. Is it harder to get motivated for a swim on mornings like these? Well, honestly, yes, it is. We’ve had one or two frosty morning swims already. I get up and look out of the window. On cold mornngs, the car windows are frosted white and I can barely see the end of the road, obscured in a lilac-grey mist. I look forward to the journey, to the landscape, new and changed by the frost, and of course there’s a nervous energy about entering the chilly water. But today, although it was still night-time-in-the-morning, the car didn’t require defrosting, as it’s been unseasonally mild for almost a week.
Despite the inauspicious start, the promise of a new swim discovery pushed me out of bed. I had booked a 10am slot at Dosthill Quarry in Tamworth a little over an hour away, motoring northwards via the M5 and M42. Several swimmers at my local swim spot had mentioned this venue, not least because it is a PADI dive training centre. I’d heard tales of sharing the (what do you call the expanse of water filling a disused quarry? A pool? Too small. A lake? Meh! ) quarry with intrepid divers who leave the surface high above them to train their skills amongst submerged vehicles. I’d seen short films taken by these divers approaching rusty cars in the murk, meeting curious pike and sturgeon on the way, and being vaguely entertained by a (model) skeleton grinning out of a window. Photos courtesy of Andy Kent, Dosthill Quarry.
A quarry swim was going to be something different, and I was looking forward to it. Surprisingly, the water temperature was a comfortable 9 degrees, warmer than anticipated, particularly at a quarry setting. The car park is on a hill next to a churchyard; there is plenty of parking space and it’s a short walk to the reception area. There are a couple of Portaloos, and at the water’s edge, there is a selection of brightly coloured sea containers deployed as a signing-in desk, shop, café, diving equipment storage and, of course, changing facilities. There are benches outside too for changing which I’m sure would’ve been fully utilised if it hadn’t been raining that morning. There’s also a mini amphitheatre fashioned from concrete, which again would be brilliant on a dry day, perfect for stashing bags and belongings in plain sight, and for looking out across the quarry, enjoying the view.
And how can I best describe the view? Essentially, the reception area or deck acts as the straight line in a capital ‘D’. The horseshoe shaped quarry is deceptively large; it felt like a disconcerting long distance to the far side, and I gingerly asked the staff if there was a shorter course than the one clearly marked out, separating swimmers from divers. I think that the scale of the cliffs played a part in the slight overwhelm. When you are in the water, the walls of rock tower above you, partially covered in vegetation. As far as I could see, there is no area to stand and rest apart from at the water’s entrance. There are steps leading into the water and you are warned before entering that they are very slippery. These wide steps and the handrail are constructed with scaffolding poles which are very useful to grip onto as you get in. The water was nevertheless cold, and the furthest end of the quarry looked a long way off! But this was obviously do-able as there were already a few small groups of swimmers at the far end, chatting, laughing and managing to (somehow) survive it all.
I set off at a speedy breaststroke, deciding to commit to the full course, and to experiencing this unfamiliar landscape to the full. It didn’t take long before the depth of the water became an intrusive thought. I doubt that there is any scientific evidence to support this, but the water felt oddly thicker and it was more of an effort to pull myself through it. I kept going, overtaken from time to time by super-swimmers in wetsuits – faces in. Once I had rounded the circuit and could see the home straight, I noticed the water around me once again. It was absolutely crystal clear. My hands and arms pushed through a wonderful cold clarity that I hadn’t experienced before – even in spring-fed lakes. It must be a terrific environment for divers to train in. With my new-found confidence, I stopped for a couple of seconds and carefully trod water, hanging vertically (like a sleeping whale) and could very clearly see my feet, five feet below. How deep was the water below my feet? It was deep, but when all said and done, it wasn’t loch-deep.
Years ago, my husband and I were fishing from a hired rowing boat in a loch on the Ardtornish Estate in the west of Scotland. Similarly to Dosthill, there were areas where tall grey hillsides slipped into the water’s edge at an acute angle. We had been rowing for a while and had finally found a spot to weigh anchor and begin fishing. I remember dropping the small anchor, controlling the rope, not far from the shore. But as more and more rope was pulled into the depths, I began to feel uneasy. No indication of the loch floor. The rope ran and ran through my hands until it became taught and there was nothing left. Just imagining the anchor hanging in the dark water below, with unknown creatures looking up towards us, made me nervous – like upside-down vertigo.
Back at the quarry, and after an exhilarating swim, I got changed quickly and familiarised myself with the surroundings once more. The staff are friendly, and there is a well-stocked shop selling swimming equipment, such as hats and goggles. Dosthill insists that hats and tow-floats are worn, and before it is possible to book a slot, you are asked to fill in form online regarding your swimming capabilities. Most visitors that day didn’t stay long afterwards, (preferring to jump into their cars and switch on the heater) due to the weather. On dry days there is plenty of outdoor space to sit, rewarm and enjoy the view.
I’ll definitely go back to Dosthill Quarry, if only to swim next to those cliff edges once more and enjoy the beautifully clear water. I had the pleasure of meeting a couple of divers practising that day. Despite being the personification of adventure, they insisted that, insulated under all their diving gear, the wild swimmers were the most brave!