A Perfect Moonlit Swim and An Eagle

Today at the lake I saw the Cascade mountain range on the other side of the lake, the water was completely calm and flat, and I got to have a repeat swim date with A, a woman I swam with a few weeks ago. I had the best cold swim to-date. 

We changed our venue to another beach about a mile north of the usual spot and just a mile from my house. In summer I never go to this beach because it’s smaller, more intimate, and packed with little kids and their parents. Also, the bacteria count for the water is often higher than at my “usual” beach (I have a USUAL beach!) because this beach is overrun with ducks and geese. There is a huge grassy area between the beach and the boathouse and a walking/cycling path that goes around it and separates it from the beach. It’s entirely covered in fowl poop. 

I don’t even care as we make our way from the parking lot, across this grassy area, to set up on a nice wooden bench. I want M to be comfy while she watches us. Because I can’t do more than one thing at a time, I’ve asked M to also take the photos of the water, a short video for water sounds, and any other photos she can get for my blog. 

Now, at 5:30pm, there is nobody here except a few people strolling or biking on the paths, a few people stepping up to the beach to take photos. I’m already in my wetsuit and donning my neoprene accoutrements as A arrives. 

I like swimming with A. She is more experienced than me, and she has a purple swim cap that I covet and admire. We like to swim for about the same amount of time, too, so that makes us compatible.  I also find out tonight that we have had similar injuries and have both suffered the unbearable pain of kidney stones, which hurt more than the limbs we broke. She had the metal removed from her leg after her injury healed. Having the two metal plates and 18 screws/nails removed from my leg is high on my list, but with COVID so many elective surgeries are getting pushed way out. Hospitals need all the resources for the sick people. Also, I know it will be three months at least where I won’t be able to do anything. I can’t bear the idea of immobilization after all my hard work to walk and swim. But whatever. That metal has to come out. Sooner rather than later. 

This small beach is so much nicer than our regular beach in some ways. Mostly, it has a sand beach. It is simple to walk right into the water. No shifting pebbles underfoot. It is small and cove-like, which makes the lake in this area feel smaller, too. When I look south, there is land because the lake isn’t a circle! Everything seems closer, more manageable, private, gentle. I think because of the hour, we didn’t see a single boat, paddle boarder, or kayaker. This more intimate setting and the perfectly flat water alone was enough to unravel any knots in my nervous system. But I was also feeling pretty giddy walking up to the beach. 

A decided she would swim back and forth between the poles, but I had noticed a buoy in the distance (to tell boats to slow down) and wanted to swim to that. Walking into the water sheathed in neoprene is so easy. You don’t get that shock when you get knee-, waist-, or tit-deep. The suit really insulates. There is about a foot-long gap between my socks and the end of my suit (I wear a sleeveless shorty); that part of my leg feels the cold. The leg with all the metal feels coldest. But literally the minute I dive in, I forget about it. Also, today was warm, and maybe the sun warmed the shallow water today. Plus, no wind, no rain. Just a glorious day all-around. 

I love the few seconds when I first dive in. Even when I feel the burn across my forehead I just focus on moving through the water. It’s like I was built to do this. In the water I’m graceful, even elegant. My extra long lumbering legs are perfect for breast stroke kick, and my gangly arms reach and scoop, reach and scoop as I breast stroke my way forward. It feels effortless, and I have all the room I need. Nobody in my way. I don’t drop anything or bump into anything. The space is exhilarating. I can stretch out fully and whatever and employ any weird strokes and kicks I want/need to propel myself. 

I’m weightless. I can’t feel my huge gut, my enormous zeppelins, or the chunks of fat living above and around the top of my pelvis. I’ve never had fat there before, so on land I feel completely wrong, and my balance is off.  My body doesn’t feel right, look right, or fit into my clothes. I’m not an athlete anymore. On land I struggle to get around. I have my leg brace and cane. I use a walker if I need to go for a long walk. I drop things all the time. I trip. But in the water I just glide. You know those water bugs that have really long legs (I guess they are all legs, no arms…..but do they think of their front legs as arms?). I imagine I’m like a gigantic water bug, except more graceful, attractive, and smarter. Cuter. Definitely cuter. Plus, big tits. LOL.

Even in the deep water, I constantly swim past tufts of feathers (duck or goose, I don’t know). I pretend they are jellyfish and that I can effortlessly slallom between them. I’m that graceful and agile. Too many metaphors, but this is my experience so I don’t care. Suck it, English 101. 

Today there were different types and colors of seaweed. Probably the same, just denser since they don’t seem to have weeded this beach beyond the very shallow end. I could touch it with my hand, and a few times a stray weed that had broken free from its stalk and floated away grazed my leg. I didn’t see any fish, but a few bubbles here and there. Oh wait, I did see a little fish dart between hiding places, just a flash of silver. (A and M saw an eagle, but I was too busy swimming. Fairly common to see bald eagles and ospreys around here.)

I discover some type of underwater marker. It was too deep for me to reach with my hands, but I found that if I bobbed up and down fairly vigorously, I could snap my feet together and grab the floating box. I couldn’t get it in the end; it was secured to something. I’m not sure what it was, maybe some type of GPS unit encased in a waterproof case. It was tethered to an eggplant shaped underwater buoy that was the oddest white/red/pink gradient color – like the monkeys at the zoo that have the embarrassing bubble butts. But it looked like a plant, too. Anyway, I got tired of trying to get, despite my totes prehensile feet. I have really long toes. I can throw rocks with them. Seriously far.  Ask my friend J.P.

I left the device alone, which was probably the smart thing to do. I’m no thief! (Just an opportunist.) Just a few strokes more toward the huge white speed limit buoy, and everything went grey, a lovely grey heather shade. Not black, not light, dark but not too dark. Nothing to see. I was glad I had my new, clear goggles. So much better in dark water. You might think it’s scary to swim in dark water, but it’s not. I even tried to scare myself, pretending there was a shark behind me, tracking me. Didn’t work. 

I made it to the buoy, and copped a float on my yellow swim bag so I could look around and see all the lights on the shore. So many rich people in their multi-million dollar homes. Hello, rich people. To the south was the north end of the massaive park where my other beach is located. This part of the park has lots of buildings, so more lights. The water was so refreshing. I swam back to where A was swimming her “laps” and we chatted for a bit as we paddled around. I can use my buoy has a kick board. We were both in a state of bliss wondering how it was possible to have this entire area to ourselves. We looked back toward the other side of the lake to see a huge orange moon rising from behind the evergreens. In the background, the outlines of several mountains in the Cascade range. I was so glad A was there because it’s always hard to describe or photograph those amazing nature moments; better to share it with someone in real time. It’s not a secret, but you can witness the moment for each other. 

I attempted to make another trip to the big white buoy, but whenever I lifted my head I was swimming north not east. WTF? I’m used to that happening when the water is rough, but the water was perfectly still. It took me forever to get there. Then I paddled in to find A. She was ready to get out. M told us when we reached the bench that we’d been swimming about 30-32 minutes. Perfect. That cancels out the chocolate and hazelnuts I ate late last night. 

It was pretty much pitch black in the park, so I didn’t care too much about just yanking off my swim top and giving myself a good rub with my towel before putting on my shirt. It’s a l-o-n-g shirt, so I could pull off my suit without flashing anyone. Again, a nice rub with my super absorbent PacK Towl. Then I slipped into the only pair of pants I’ve worn (other than elastic waistband track pants) for the past 5 years and threw on my fleece jacket. I forgot my woolly cap, so I wrapped the towel around my head instead. 

Now I am home and am 1) ravenously hungry 2) really f-ing tired. I have already rinsed off all my gear and showered. You have to shower because of the duck poop parasites. I’m about to go horizontal on my couch. Lou Reed is going through my head. “It’s such a perfect day….I’m glad I spent it with you….such a perfect day…you just keep me hanging on”  Did you know that Bowie produced that album (Transformer). Badass. 

Oh, also, a lady walked past us in the park, and I told her I like her hat which looked like a witch hat. She was like, “yea, well, I’m a witch.” I’m all, “me, too!!! I’m a sea witch. And I have a friend who’s actually a witch, a Wiccan.”  Witch, “yea, me, too.” 

I really need to make up a card I can give to people I meet in passing. Something like, “so nice to notice you and say hello. Would you like to have tea with me some day?”

Is that weird? 

As for depression…last night I moved the huge stack of unopened mail from the table in the entryway to my couch. I didn’t open it. Now I’m lying on top of it, wrapped in a blanket, ready to find a movie on Prime Video. Whatever.

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