Wind: from NW 3.8 m/sec (9 mph) | Air Temperature: 8.2 °C (47 °F) | Water Temperature: 9.39 °C (49 °F)
(Lake Washington Buoy Weather Data 12/14/2023 )
Today at the lake it was chilly but not cold, and the water was nice and flat. There weren’t many people in the park. I saw two or three people walking on the trail I the distance. A lady and her grandson pulled into the parking spot next to mine, and she said, “there’s that crazy lady who swims in the cold water.”
It was a pleasant opening. We chatted as we walked down the cement path (that took them nine long months to build) to the beach. Her grandson was cute and had many questions about the water, about my snorkel, about my gear. I was happy to have the company and to explain whatever he wanted to know.
It is funny how you reach that age where you share maladies with strangers. The woman was thinking that swimming in the lake was a big deal, but I told her that I was just a runner who couldn’t run and needed to do something. She is a dancer who can’t dance. She has fused vertebra in her neck. She has fallen several times. Sometimes she falls on her grandkids toys.
It was nice to chit chat while I got my gear on, but it was also a distraction that led me to make a mistake with my gear. I caught it and corrected it, but that is a risk. I also forgot to take my photos and record the water sounds because I was talking.
A Tin Can Life
I got into the lake, and swam south. I wasn’t sure how far I wanted to go but I figured it was a good plan to head toward the boat launch. I swam over the milfoil forests, getting excited when there were patches of empty lake floor. Seeing the sand is exciting. It’s so dorky, but I often imagine myself in a tiny dune buggy, tearing up the lake floor. I don’t know why my imaginary under lake life involves me being tiny, but I am happy to roll with that. It reminds me of when I was a kid and read so many weird books about fairies, elves, martians.
I remember one where a fairy lived in a tin can in someone’s back yard. I always thought that sounded incredibly cool. Just a simple life. In a can.
What does it say about me that I still have a romanticized idea of fairy life? Of tin can living?
Mountains Can Also Get in the Way
I continued swimming south, and pulled up when I got to the willow tree. I couldn’t tell if this is the willow tree that I swam to this summer, or if there is another willow tree that is closer to the launch. I floated on my back for a minute so I could watch the clouds. They were mostly grey, so it was like a fluffy Rothko painting covering the sky. I have learned to appreciate the shades of grey because it seems smarter and healthier to lean into the colors, hues of winter than resent them.
From the water, the sky and clouds have their own shapes and forms. Under the cloud cover there are other, thinner clouds. I could only see cross sections of Mt. Rainier today, but I saw enough in crisp focus to appreciate the view for what it was. Mountains are only markers. It is exciting to see them, especially when the entire range is visible. But for me they say, “you are on this side.” Me and all the stuff in between. I’m interested in that stuff. What could I see on the way to the mountain? I’m less interested in the mountain. I don’t want to hike up a mountain, preferring the two-mile, flat loop trails. I don’t want to ski down a mountain because I have no interested snow or in being cold. Plus, I already broke my leg. Not something I want to repeat.
So the mountain and the ranges are very pretty, scenic, whatever, but not that exciting to me in themselves. As destinations. I like what they represent—outdoor adventure— more than I actually like them.
Milfoil Forests
I swam a bit farther, trying to find the other willow tree, but I got bored with it and turned around. Suddenly, I was seeing lots of rocks and even boulder-size stones on the lake floor. I pulled up and found myself close to the shore. I hate when I do that. I think I’m swimming in a straight line, but I’m going 90 to 180 degrees in the wrong direction.
I swam back into deep water until I saw lots of milfoil stalks, then positioned myself to head back to the cement dock. I alternated crawl and breast stroke, trying to move more slowly so the crawl wasn’t so exhausting. I cannot understand why crawl feels so much more taxing then breast stroke. It doesn’t matter.
I was focusing on my back. I love how my muscles feel when I pay attention to my strokes. I can feel the muscles in my arms and across my back working to move me forward. I love feeling strong, and when I’m not in the water I notice the difference I my posture from all this swimming.
While I was swimming over the weeds I thought about perspective. I have had such a contentious relationship with the milfoil over the years. But today I glided over it like I was in a plane, surveying the forest below. It wasn’t my enemy, just part of the scenery. Benign. And having it’s own green beauty and texture. I still reserve the right to be mad at it next time or maybe not until next summer.
I couldn’t see the little boy and his grandmother on the beach anymore, so they must have moved to another part of the park. Maybe they went home. There was a figure near the showers, and it looked like someone getting ready to enter the water. I hoped it was another swimmer.
As I approached the boundaries of the swim area, I decided to swim around the cement dock, then changed my mind. I swam under the dock, then turn around and swam away from it. I saw the figure coming toward the water, and swam to the shallow water to get out.
Another Swimmer
It was a man I’ve seen and talked to before. He just gets in for a few minutes, then gets out. But he has soooo much gear. A camp chair. A boogie board. Trekking poles (to help him get into the water without falling). A towel. A bag of stuff. Another bag of stuff. I sometimes feel like I spend more time getting into and out of my wetsuit than I do in the water. He for sure does.
We ended up showering together, so we chatted. He had lots of questions about my gear. I am always happy to answer people, and I always enjoy the water more when I’m not the only swimmer. I probably stood and talked to for too long (I needed to get home for a phone meeting), but I wanted to help him. If he gets the appropriate gear he can stay in the water longer (his goal). He needed help getting out of this shorty suit, and asked me if I could pull it off his shoulders. I did. I am usually the one needing help with my gear. Countless strangers have zipped me into my suit when I couldn’t do it.
I had to sit on my kickboard to get my wetsuit off. I love how grippy it is, but it’s a pain to remove. I can’t do it standing. I got back into the shower in my swimsuit. The guy commented on my cupping marks. I forgot that I have big red circles all over my back from my treatment the other day. I didn’t think anything of it then, but now it seems sort of intimate for him to comment on. Whatever. He must be 10 or 15 years older than me, and half my size, so I’m pretty sure he wasn’t hitting on me.
As we were shuffling toward the parking lot, his friend appeared. Maybe his girlfriend? He had so much stuff that he has to take to trips to get it to his car. I appreciate this so much. Because he was in the water less than five minutes. I am totally for doing the work necessary to have a nice experience. It’s worth it.
I got home just in time for my phone call. Now I am cold and need to shower. The lake was lovely today. I wore my hooded vest under my wetsuit, so my head was almost too warm. My hands were almost too warm.
I am happy to have co-existed with the milfoil today, but I am still grumpy about the particles in the water. They really bother me. I didn’t write about my thoughts on that today cause I was trying to be positive.
Now I am guzzling flat berry-flavored sparkling water and feeling like a complete champion. Thank you, lake.
Onward!