You might not think of Dublin as a great swimming city, but just south, an easy 20-minute ride on the DART railway, is a magical spot for a revitalizing plunge into the Irish Sea. Called the Forty Foot, for reasons that are apparently lost to history, it was recently made famous by the Apple TV+ series Bad Sisters, in which Sharon Horgan, Eve Hewson, and the rest of the titular sorority seemingly spend half the series bobbing in the waves or wet-haired and bundled up on the rocks. Sure, they’re plotting to murder their awful brother-in-law, but they’re also getting fresh air and wholesome exercise. You might say the Forty Foot is the Bad Sisters equivalent of the Bada Bing!, but outdoors, picturesque, and not piggish. For a water-lover like me, it looked irresistible on TV.
The site is a rocky cove at the end of a small promontory jutting out into Dublin Bay. You get off at the DART’s Sandycove & Glasthule station and then walk for 15 minutes or so along a pretty waterfront park. There is no sand at the Forty Foot. It’s not a place to lounge with a good book—there’s a proper beach along the way if that’s more your thing—but the rocks are comfortable to sit on, and there are a few alcoves for discreet, towel-assisted changing.
You might say the Forty Foot is the Bad Sisters equivalent of the Bada Bing!, but outdoors, picturesque, and not piggish.
I visited on a sunny August Sunday, just before noon. The scene was busy, but pleasantly so, the vibe more lively pub than overcrowded resort beach, folks striking up conversations as they swam or lined up to dive or jump off ledges of varying heights, from 5 feet to maybe 20. Don’t fret: there are sturdy ladders for those desiring a more genteel entry into the waves.
The water temperature this day was 15 degrees Celsius, or 59 degrees Fahrenheit, about as warm as it gets. (Locals swim here all year round.) If you are a Floridian or San Diegan, that may hit you on the far side of bracing, but what are you drinking all those pints of Guinness for if not this? A Northern Californian myself, I had flashbacks to childhood swims in snow-fed lakes in the High Sierras. Mainers will feel at home.
The scene was busy, but pleasantly so, the vibe more lively pub than overcrowded resort beach.
Looking for an après-swim warm-up? Visit the Sandycove Store & Yard, just a short walk away. It’s a complex where you can get coffee and a toastie, the local version of a grilled cheese—the national dish. (The Irish, as opposed to the Irish-Americans, don’t know from corned beef and cabbage.) If that’s not enough to revive you, the Sandycove Store & Yard also offers saunas.
Literary-minded swimmers can also visit the nearby James Joyce Tower & Museum, a former military outpost and then residence of some sort where Joyce briefly stayed in 1904. It figures in the opening of Ulysses, in which Joyce has Buck Mulligan refer to “the snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea.” I’ll give Joyce the latter descriptor, but at least when I was there the sea was more a muted but lovely aquamarine.
Bruce Handy is a journalist and the author of Wild Things: The Joy of Reading Children’s Literature as an Adult
