WATER BOY
Like a lot of people, I'm addicted to water. Swimming offers the cheapest
and most effective relief from stress, depression and restlessness. It buoys
you up with a mysterious physical buzz. All winter, instead of concentrating
on skiing or skating, I swim 10 km. a week with the Nepean Masters Swim
Club.
To keep an edge on, I compete at Provincial and National levels in the
1,500 meter freestyle. Sixty grueling laps of a 25 meter pool. But I really
live for June till mid September when I shun the Band-Aids, hair balls and
tepid water of chlorinated pools and give in to the wild beauty of soul
swimming.
Luckily, the cottage country of Ontario and Quebec boasts some of the
finest open water swimming in the world. Of course, the season is short
compared to the tropics, but there are no sharks, jellyfish, sea snakes,
gnarly surf, rip tides, undertows, crocodiles or typhoons. You do, however,
have to dodge the propellers of motor boats, idiots on jet skis and bolts of
lightning from summer squalls. Also, you may have to navigate through
ominous tusks of half-submerged dead heads, and pull in your gut as you skim
over shallow rocky shoals. With your head wreathed in pursuing deer flies,
you may even have to outswim crazed otters, muskrats and beavers.
A rare breed, open water swimmers embrace the magic that eludes the rest
of landlocked humanity. Being able to comfortably swim almost anywhere is
like having the ability to fly. When you enter the water you tend both to
lose yourself and find yourself. As soggy as it may sound, with this naked
liberty you are back in the womb, one with nature.
Of course, even the most competent should not attempt a solo swim. It is
wise to be accompanied by a partner, or a spotter in a rowboat, kayak, or
canoe. Another safe option is to swim with one of those streamlined
flotation devices attached by rope to your waist. All summer, there are
many clubs and informal groups who meet for an early morning or evening
swim.
Aside from a questing spirit and a willingness to get wet, open water
swimming requires only a Speedo-style bathing suit (the skimpier the better
in terms of drag), a pair of well fitting goggles, and a snug swimming cap
to protect your head from the sun and to keep it warm on the cooler days.
Some swimmers, especially triathletes, purchase Rip Curl or Orca wet suits
for added warmth, flotation and speed. But many connoisseurs prefer to feel
as much water as possible on their skin.
This summer I've tasted secret ponds; fast flowing streams; a tree
shrouded weir; evening dips with my friend Pete the cop at Meech Lake
(including a 9 a.m. 1.5 km race), meandering swims up the Ottawa river at
our cottage at Norway Bay (including an annual long distance swim), a swim
with my friend Cara in misty rain at her Algonquin Park cottage, and a near
perfect week with my brood up at a tiny, waterfalled lake at Val des Monts.
After you do a fairly brisk 1 to 2 km freestyle, the endorphin rush nearly
leaves you giddy. In open water you need to learn how to find a straight
line. Pick a beacon in the distance: a large tree, a cottage, a dock, or
island. Lift your head now and again to realign your destination; swim with
a relaxed rhythm - arm over arm with a long reach, a powerful pull and
follow through, together with a steady, shallow kick that will keep you
afloat while youšre sensually propelled through the water.
Believe it or not, some open water swimmers donšt wear goggles because
they prefer to swim with their eyes closed. The dark mystery of what is down
below keeps many out of the water. But donšt give in to fear. Just quietly
breaststroke with your head up out of the water for awhile. Take a good look
around as you swim along the shoreline of a rocky island fringed with sweet
scented cedars and weathered driftwood.
Thinking hešs camouflaged among a jungle of reeds, an elegant blue heron
gazes back at you, appalled that anyone would dare to enter his domain.
Notice the wind gently rustling his feathers, the same wind that ripples
the glassy surface of the lake. On a half-submerged log, like a row of
German war helmets, painted turtles are sunning themselves. As you approach,
each one tilts and plops into the water.
Now take a deep breath and submerge into the SAFE world below. Donšt mind
the tall fronds of seaweed wavering before you.Then stroke over to the edge
of a Monetšs garden of water lilies. Swimming among lily pads offers you a
vegetal sensation of going through the undulating caress of a car wash. The
flowers are white with an exquisite yellow centre, and when you lean in for
a whiff, they have the sweet rubbery scent of fragrant soap.
Farther along, hold your breath and glide just beneath the surface. You
might notice a gleaming school of minnows, their bodies so transparent all
you see are their fine bones and huge eyes. Often you will encounter yellow
striped perch, a half dozen coy bass, sunfish, a long, stunned pike, or meet
up with an inquisitive muskie. You may even bond with sturgeon, catfish,
eels, crayfish, water snakes, and the odd prehistoric looking snapping
turtle.
While stroking through water, I always unravel whatever lifešs quandaries
are perplexing me.The big one this summer has been coping with selling a
house and buying a new one.
Finally, dive down deep until you are swimming along the bottom. Then,
because you have been swimming with angels all along, gaze upward at the
slanting shafts of radiant sunlight, as though you are immersed in some vast
ancient cathedral of God.
Richard Taylor teaches at Carleton University and has published a travel
memoir, HOUSE INSIDE THE WAVES: Domesticity, Art and the Surfing Life.
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