Swimmer’s Itch

 

“What do these signs say?” Ian nods toward the white signage posted on bright orange sandwich boards at the shoreline. I sigh…what now? It’s been 10 days since I’ve been swimming --what with the bad air quality and the pools and beaches all closed because, hell, we can’t breathe. The dense and persistent smoke from dozens of wildfires surrounding the Bay Area has made being outdoors difficult and hazardous to our health. It’s like smoking 20 packs of cigarettes a day! Or so rumor has it. And after all, swimmers do need to breathe!

            So, today is the first day that the air is better. In fact, here at Keller Beach it’s blue skies and puffy white clouds floating over the bay toward a now visible Mt. Tam. I am so excited to be back on the beach! And, no one is here! Unlike the last time we were at Keller on Labor Day Weekend: pot addled bongo drum players; noisy families putting up tents and unpacking barbeques; everyone too close for comfort given the Pandemic---no mask, no room for social distancing. It was insane!

            Today, it’s calm and peaceful and gorgeous. Why oh why is there another obstacle to contend with. Because the signs must be alerting swimmers to something wrong, right?

            “It’s rather ominous,” Ian comments. “No one’s here….” He leans over and reads one of the signs as I take in the other:

            WARNING! All Swimmers and Waders!

            Tiny microorganisms causing ‘Swimmers Itch’ have

            been reported in the shallow water. Please be aware of

            this and avoid wading in shallow water. The micrograms attack

            the hands and feet. It is not fatal, but can be irritating. 

            Shower and towel off immediately after swimming!

Great, I think. All I need now is Swimmer’s Itch! But I don’t swim or wade in the shallow water. I head out to sea, into the deeper waters, to make my way to the pylons. So, it seems like I’ll be okay, right?

            I ask Ian what he thinks.

            “I guess it’ll be okay,” he muses. "You do take a shower after you swim....."

            “Yes! I do!  I’m going in!” I proclaim. “I haven’t been swimming for over 10 days and I NEED to swim! I can live with a little itch if I get it. That’s better than not swimming!”

            “Hopefully, we won’t get it,” Ian says, heading back to our spot on the beach and starting the prep for our water entry.

            I’ve heard of Swimmer’s Itch before. There were signs about it at Alameda when we went swimming there weeks ago and I hadn’t mentioned it. To be honest, I didn’t even really read the signs very closely. I’m always in such a tizzy to swim. With this Pandemic, my swimming is so erratic and the outdoor swimming is so dependent on outside forces. If there’s lightening—forget it. If there’s smoke, well, I’m willing to give it a try, but breathing is a necessity. Ian demonstrated one day while we were walking with deep breaths of taking air in and letting it out with loud vocal accompaniment to this like a Tuba on its last legs.

            So, okay, Swimmer’s Itch. It sounds nasty, but not as nasty as a seal bite, right? Which I suppose is still a possibility.

            We get me into the wetsuit today with little difficulty. Ian has figured out the “Zip” and now it’s easy peasy. Well, almost. As I head down to the shore, past the warning signs, I think of the tiny biting organisms that will make me itch, but only for a moment as I head into the water. Diving under and taking that first stroke—I’m in heaven! The water’s floating embrace and brisk coolness is such a high. I can’t believe I haven’t been swimming in the bay all these years.

            Yet, why would I? With my indoor pool routine, there was no need. The very thought of diving into the freezing bay was a ludicrous prospect. Today, though, I’m so jubilant to be back in the water, swimming toward the pylons, the blue skies smiling at me and the puffy clouds shaped like elephants leading the way.

            The swim is hard today though. Maybe it’s cuz I haven’t been for so long; my arms are tired and my hands are cold. But I know the route now and know I can do it. I just need to pace myself. When I reach the pylons, Mr. and Mrs. Cormorant greet me with their outspread wings before taking off, skimming the bay with their black bodies low. I wave to them before turning around and heading back to shore, knowing the way back is a breeze. The current and tide are with me, carrying me back to the shore.

            Ian’s been swimming parallel to the shore this whole time. I’m still amazed he can stay in the cold water for so long! As we head back to the beach, I see that the families with little kids have stared piling in. Time to dry off and head out before the screaming kids take over.

            Sitting up in the sun, towels covering me, I watch as a mom in front of us texts something on her phone and then asks her kid, “Do you want some grapefruit?”

            “Nah,” he declines. Of course. What 4-year-old wants grapefruit? He heads down to the shore, starts wading in the water. I watch as he kicks at the tiny waves and picks up piles of seaweed, tossing it back into the bay. “Shouldn’t that kid not be wading in the water?” I ask Ian.

           

“One would think so,” Ian nods.

            “I wonder if that mom read the signs?”

            Ian shrugs. “People are stupid.”

            And I think, were we stupid to swim today? Did we contract the tiny microorganisms’ little bites? Will I wake up with itchy hands and feet tomorrow?

            I sure hope not!

            But even if I do, it will be worth it.

            Anything to swim!