Cold water makes me giddy. Within seconds.
Today was a day of seconds.
And giddiness.
This was my second swim of the week, my second swim from Rockaway Beach and my second swim with Christina, a fellow mother whom I think may also be part selkie.
I experienced the joy of sharing a swim with another woman struck giddy and weightless in these freezing waters. And strong and confident in this salty world—mid-October—to boot.
My first swim with Christina was with a group of middle school kids a few weeks ago, during one of our Friday’s together spent watching our flock cavort together and learn a bit about open water swimming in the Salish Sea. This class not only brought the kids together, it also brought us together—we were strangers until open water swimming led us to each other.
I arrived to the park today a few minutes after Christina, and found her fully suited up as well—a taller, more elegant version of me—rubbery black suit from top to bottom. And smiling. We glanced East towards Seattle, where we could hear the waves crashing, and hesitated just for a moment as we deliberated on whether the waves might be too rough, and whether the air was too cold as the sun had already exited this stretch of land for the day.
With a shrug and a quick nod, we said “why not, might as well try” and clutching our buoys, goggles and caps we strode quickly to the wooden steps leading to the rocky shore. Our goal was the same—get in and see where the waters might take us.
As we finished preparing for our wild plunge, we again deliberated on whether to go left or right. I voted for right, where the hidden rocks lay, and Port Blakey beyond, confident that with the wind at our backs we might make it around the point—and it was familiar. We weighed the pros and cons, and agreed on trying a swim south.
Out there, where high waves crashed in from the north, I felt safe returning to a landscape I had seen before. Wind at our backs and nothing but glistening water beckoning us forward, we cautiously swam over huge submerged boulders.
My feeling of calm confidence expanded as we entered the clear waters and I learned that Christina had once been a scuba instructor —in warm waters—a half a world away. She was at ease, comfortable in this watery world, a strong swimmer. Under way we took time to bob about, both beaming with delight as high rolling waves bumped us up and down like a carnival ride.
We worked our way south and into the harbor, under a clear blue sky. To the East, I looked out at fluffy white clouds hovering over Seattle. The world looked perfect. In balance. The immediacy of the journey made everything but the swim disappear. For a moment I could almost pretend all was in order.
Along the way we spotted a few moon jellies and crabs scuttling over the large rocks below. The shelter of the harbor gave us a small reprieve and we bobbed about, surveying the lovely bay before bracing for the bumpy trip back to dry land.
Two foot waves met us head on, some fringed with white as we plowed North to the start, as schools of tiny fish shimmered below us seemingly completely unaffected by the roiling surface above them.
My humanness—our humanness—was made clear. No high tech wetsuit or extreme gadget could wrestle these waves into submission. The thrill of the challenging waters, the beauty and the required letting go of control—this is where the giddy ness set in for me today.
To swim through waters like this requires surrender and a healthy amount of determination. We had the option to exit early, walk the beach back, avoid the waves but neither of us considered that an option. The thrill and elation of bouncing over and through this world is infectious—addictive. I felt myself craving the thrill of plunging over and through the cold waves. Why don’t more people do this?
We were both forced to pause, taking backward breaks to rest and fill our lungs with air as we bounced along, beating through waves as the sun sunk farther down. Nearing the finish, we discussed a possible dose of Dramamine next time, as a slight queasiness unsettled us both. Minutes later we giggled as we stumbled clumsily to shore over large slippery rocks and seaweed, swaying back and forth like drunken sailors after a good night partying.
Today was a good swim. I look forward to thirds. Maybe I will get a third swim in this week after all.
There’s still time—and there sure is plenty of room out there.
I dare you.
Mary Swims 
💞🎢🎡🎢💞