Evening Swim

One thing I really missed on the Nepal trip was swimming.  I swim every summer and early fall evening that I can in a sweet highland lake not far from my house.  It is quiet when I go around sunset.  Families have packed up for the day and the campers are cooking dinners over fires.  There might be a few kayakers or paddlers and a few other swimmers some I have made friends with over the years.  In a lake this large, it can feel as if I have the whole glorious scene to myself. 

As I walk to the shore from the parking lot, my body starts to relax, my mind releasing the tight knot of workday thinking, planning, worrying, and figuring out.  Diving into the cool waters, I dive back into myself. The sweet earthy fragrance of the forest, the golden light flickering through the trees, the flow of water on my skin fills my senses with delight and wonder.  The water is a different color each time.  Sometimes grey with white swirls and other times deep inky black or purples mixed with reds. With all this uneasy summer weather, storms can whip up in an instant bringing thunderous downpours.  Other evenings, it is still steamy even this high up on the mountain.  But the colder evenings come earlier here than in the valley so swimming in late August and September brings electric chills.  I sleep so well and deeply after a swim in this cold mountain lake!

The swimming makes me feel so alive and calm and I missed in during the four weeks of trekking in Nepal.  Swimming helps me to let go of the day and slow down enough to take in the precious ending of the day.  It marks my threshold into evening.  In Nepal, after a long gritty day of trekking, we used baby wipes or a small basin of precious warm water to wipe a bit of the dirt off of our bodies.  It was something but not as glorious as a full body dunk. 

All lakes have different surface tension.  The lake where I swim has a thickness to it.  It can feel like I am dipping my arms and leges into a thin coating of molasses.  The pull of the water through my white hair, the rhythm of my body gliding, the water on my body is like a careful and attentive lover.

I am not the only pilgrim to this lake.  There are others who come to the lake in the evening for replenishment and homecoming.  We worship together and in solitude like at a church service fed deeply by the liturgy of the lake. 

When the season turns colder, I will mourn the passing of these evening prayers.  I think about using a wet suit but never do.  It wouldn’t be the same to have something between my skin and the water. I will do more yoga and take hot baths in the evening to unwind, embody myself, mark the end of the special day.  I will read and write more. And will await with tender anticipation the start of another season at the lake.