Frozen in time…..and water.
The fact that this picture exists is entirely thanks to my swim partner today, Christina. Not only did she delight in and endure the shock of ice water with me, but she managed to coax me in first by offering to take my picture.
I am quite certain that I would have aborted my plan entirely had she not been there—peer pressure can be contagious and helpful in moments like these.
The trade off was I acclimated first, faster than I normally would, in exchange for a photo capturing this first for us both—a Salish Sea swim less than one week before Halloween.
Spooky might be an apt description of our swim, as we made our way out around half of Fletcher Bay, stopping frequently to comment on the temperature which froze Christina’s lips and her pinky, and iced over my bottom teeth. When we paused I could feel the chill sink deep into my chest, making deep breaths more challenging. Again I was reminded of how critical breathing is to successful swimming—it’s almost as if the cold locks your lungs partway closed.
The bay was utterly still, with the only splash (other than our own strokes) coming from the whip of a fish headed towards the creek. Perhaps a salmon coming home to spawn.
The water’s chill was such that I felt short of breath for much of the swim, and found myself humbled by the unforgiving watery world around us.
Despite the frigid water, I found comfort in having a new friend with me to share in both the thrill of conquering this formidable late fall challenge and revel in the beauty all around us.
High above us a blue heron squawked a hello, and flapped her way to a stand of evergreen trees nearby.
“Well, hello there,” Christina said with a smile.
Moments later as we stopped again to catch our breath, we commenced a conversation about alternative ways to stay active this winter, out of this cold watery world—running, rowing, walking, weights. In hindsight I realize that swimming at the pool never even entered the conversation. It’s almost like open water swimming is entirely it’s own sport, not even related to pool swimming.
Around the bay our bodies created a path of bubbles behind us, as we made our way through clear green water. The surface was coated in places with a thin brown film, likely algae, but just below the surface the water was pure green.
Back on dry land we unhooked our swim buoys and made a beeline for my house through the woods. A coyote had trailed us down to the water as we headed out, perhaps the one responsible for disappearing our cat and the neighbor’s cat a few weeks ago. We swapped stories of these beautiful and fearless cat-eating creatures, as we wondered allowed if we will swim through the winter.
Today I found the initial chill wore off some as we went along, but the intensity of the water and our preoccupation with getting too cold took some of the carefree feeling away.
I learned the value of having another with me to gauge the safety of this adventure, and most of all the sweetness of sharing the wonder of this beautiful landscape with another.
I guess I’ll just take it as it comes. If I swim again this October, I will likely keep it short—and bring company.
I don’t wish to promise myself that I’ll continue or commit to a self imposed schedule through the winter. But in my heart I hope I can continue to get in, even briefly. Float and drift in saltwater beneath giant trees and flapping herons while coyotes dash about along the shore.
Mary Swims 
✨🦇💙🏡💙🦇✨