Three crabs, two exits, one algae bloom and no jellyfish.
My swim today included a mad dash to the bay with sweat dripping down my back and some kind of crazy notion that if I got into the water quickly enough I might somehow be more likely to not run into a stinging red jellyfish cousin of the one we saw from the boat the other day.
The water was freakishly warm today, a genuine surprise to me, as the air was cooler, the clouds rolled in last night and the sky even spit out a few drops of rain throughout the day.
The bath-like water made entry very comfortable, but this sweet comfort was immediately forgotten as my mind slipped like a slug on butter to the very real possibility that at any moment I might run headlong into an oozing hot mess of stinging tentacles.
My other challenge was physical, not mental, as visibility was nearly zero through much of my swim due to a tremendous red algae bloom that turned the water from an earthy green to a bloody brown red—which only heightened my preoccupation with scanning the water before me with every stroke to look out for any solid red masses that might suddenly appear before me. Not only that, but I was also convinced for most of my swim that the redness was red tide, not algae, and it was thanks to my cousin, Ted, that this concern was laid to rest when I passed by his house and he shared this observation with me. Toxic poisoning from red tide —no good. Phew.
A few minutes into my red adventure, I found myself recalling a story from Josh’s mom about wolves when we were visiting his Grandma Lorna in Idaho years ago.
As the story goes, one day when Linda and her sister, Teri, were little and were bouncing off the walls, Grandma Lorna told them to go outside and run around the house three times, and gave them one specific instruction, “Whatever you do, don’t think about wolves.”
Well, guess what they thought about.
Like the wolf story, I found myself thinking about the red jellyfish more and more, every time I tried to “not think about a red stinging jellyfish the size of a VW bug.”
The bay was empty save me and a colorful mess of seaweed floaters and debris, with the tide very high—to the brim, leaving me with plenty of water to swim in….and plenty of room for…..jellyfish.
But there were none. At least none by me.
Finally with my determination to get at least a mile swim in firmly stuck on my brain, I neared the mouth of the bay where the thought suddenly occurred to me that I was as likely to see a seal as I was to see a jellyfish, and maybe if I contemplated this idea I might not only enjoy my swim more, but experience this alternate reality….or at least perhaps skirt around getting stung.
This thought eased my mind enough to allow my eyes to scan the bay floor, and I will admit, I realized that perhaps swimming close to shore might be less tempting for those creatures whom depend on currents and space to float around.
Near shore I was startled by the appearance of white tipped sea grass, swaying around like underwater tumbleweeds. I gingerly stroked the fine fingered tips and plumes of what looked like pollen burst out.
I let myself get distracted by the treasures below, and with my near shore strategy I also skimmed by three sizable crabs, that gave me the “claws up” wave reminding me who was trespassing on who.
At the road end I paused to stand and look at the clouds. On my return trip the bay got murky and stayed red. I exited early onto my aunt’s dock, from which I was able to scan the waters up the bay.
No sign of jellyfish.
The bay called to me again, and back in I went. In the last quarter mile the waters cleared and a light steady rain began to fall. I stopped to look up at the sky and watch circles burst on the glassy surface all around me.
The red algae bloom subsided and the green filled in.
I felt a calmness settle in and relief as I made my way back to the muddy root exit.
I thanked the seaweed for giving me frequent physical reminders to stay aware of my surroundings, catching on my arms and goggles and toes.
I didn’t think about wolves, and thought less about jellyfish than when I’d started.
We are what we think. What we believe is what we become.
Today when I was talking to my sister about writing and swimming, how they have become one somehow to me she said warmly, “my sister the seal.”
Maybe I was the seal today.
Wolves don’t like water.
And maybe jellyfish don’t like seals.
Mary Swims 