Last week I completed the inaugural Hydroman swim in Most, Czech Republic.
Open Water Swimming Events are Stepping Up
Over the last few years I’ve tackled numerous open water swimming events in the UK and Central Europe, growing accustomed to dark peat-stained waters where visibility ends before my outstretched hand.
So when I first heard about Hydroman, set in the crystal-clear waters of a flooded former quarry in northern Bohemia, I was interested.
Organised by V Aquatics, a highly-regarded Prague-based swimming academy, the event promised a unique experience. Not having competed in an open water race for more than a year, I was also keen to discover whether the rising popularity of open water swimming is elevating the quality of these kinds of events.
The open water races I’ve attended have been bare-bones affairs—bring your own kit, pack a cooler, and focus solely on the swim. Hydroman was a little different. Merchandise stalls lined the beach, offering everything from safety buoys to energy drinks, while an MC mingled with competitors prepping for the race and spectators lounging in deck chairs. A DJ kept the energy high, transforming the old quarry’s shores into a mini-festival.
For past swims, I’d dragged my family along, only for them to twiddle their thumbs for a couple hours while I raced. This time, I left them at home, but shouldn’t have. With food and drink stands and recreational areas scattered around, Hydroman offered plenty to keep spectators entertained, making it as much a family-friendly event as a competitive one.
I arrived an hour early to check in and stretch, giving myself plenty of time before the race. Registration was seamless. V Aquatics’ friendly staff—fluent in English—swiftly handed me my chip, race numbers, and a swag bag with everything I needed.
Hydroman very much had a multi-national vibe, as snippets of German, Spanish, Italian, English, and of course, Czech, mingled around me, heightening the excitement of the event.
My 5km race was set to start at 9:15 a.m., one of several distances offered alongside 3km, 1.5km, and 750m events. The beach was filled with swimmers gearing up. At 9:00, I waded into the 22°C (70°F) water—perfect for a long swim. I swam out a bit, adjusting my goggles to ensure a snug fit. The water had a blue-green tinge, limiting visibility to about 10 feet—not as clear as advertised, but still a refreshing change from the dark, murky lochs and rivers of Scotland and Central Europe.
The MC summoned us for a bilingual race briefing in Czech and English, and the air crackled with anticipation as the 10-second countdown began and the safety boats and paddleboards took to the water. From our standing start the lake’s surface lay flat as an empty swimming pool, reflecting back my rising nerves and adrenaline. Then, we were off.
Open water swimming is sometimes called a limited-contact sport, but race starts can feel more like a demolition derby, with arms and legs churning in a frenzied pack. To conserve energy and avoid the chaos, I positioned myself on the edge and headed toward the first buoy.
From the shore, we aimed for the lower-left marker, then we needed to complete two laps of a large rectangular course before heading back to the beach for the finish. The pack soon spread out as elite swimmers powered ahead, while I scanned for a swimmer whose steady pace I could shadow to maintain my rhythm.
Despite latching onto swimmers with a pace that suited me, my navigation was a mess. I aimed to sight the next buoy every 10 strokes, but too often I’d look up to find myself veering toward the center of our rectangular course. Adjusting, I zig-zagged forward, soon realizing I’d need to sight every five or six strokes to stay on track.
Navigation was especially tricky on the long sides of the circuit, where the sparse buoys left me guessing. Without a tracker, I’m convinced I swam closer to 6k than 5k. My one critique of Hydroman is the need for more buoys to guide swimmers, a small tweak to elevate a well-run event and make it more accessible.
Stroke by stroke, I dragged myself forward, aided by the lake’s glassy smoothness and some determined self-talk to quiet my aching shoulders. Soon, the finish line came into view, with the MC’s voice and pulsing music drifting across the water. I kicked hard, crossing the line on wobbly legs in 1 hour 48 minutes.
My time was way off a PB, but given my wandering path and this being my first serious swim in months, I was satisfied. Organizers swiftly collected finishers’ chips, and energy drinks were pressed into our hands as we laid back onto the beach, basking in the post-race buzz and warm sun.
I hung around for another hour, rehydrating, swapping stories with other swimmers, soaking up the atmosphere, and watching the winners get their medals.
Hydroman really stands out as an excellent event that showcases a level of investment commensurate with the overall growth of open-water swimming. Its festival-like energy felt more like a Spartan race than a typical swim event, with the stunning location, clear communication, and robust safety measures earning top marks.
Next up from V Aquatics is The Hydroman Vltava River swim in Prague, and I’ll definitely be taking part.
