Swim

A rural Saskatchewan summer

Reality has set in.  We were really spending the summer in this place.  The kind of place I thought only existed in movies.  A place where things to entertain a 14-year-old are limited. Where the local store owner has never seen a drive though window.  Where the only radio station plays old fashioned country music. Where my friends in the city can send letters to me - general delivery.  Staying in a trailer that should have burned down years ago when it was abandoned.  It is a true testament to 1970s nylon carpeting that the abandoned cigarettes simply burned themselves out, rather than taking this carpet and wall paper covered monstrosity with them. The gas leaks, so we cannot use the stove. The yard is overgrown.

But this is my summer and I will make the most of it.  We walk to the beach to swim or read in the shade.  Mom sometimes takes us to the big lake, where there are some boys to flirt with. We collect large rocks from a road construction area and build our own fire pit (is this stealing or helping?).  We learn to cook everything on a grill or in an electric frying pan or an old coffee warmer. And the store owner, Pearl, is a funny old woman with a kind heart and a brash attitude, who gives us candy when we sit and visit. 

As we are talking one day, Pearl notes that I am a very good swimmer.  I brag that I can swim the 1500m in tournaments.  She tells me that a girl a bit younger than me tried to swim across one of the local lakes and got about half way.  Fowler Lake is just under 3 km.  She issues a challenge: Can I do it?

Of course I can! Years of swimming and the confidence of youth make me certain of it. So it is decided; the following evening, when my dad returns from work, my sister and I will swim the lake.  My dad borrows my uncle’s little aluminum boat; with the kind of outboard motor you drive from a handle attached directly to the motor.  It is fully equipped with all necessary safety equipment, including some ancient looking life preservers. We launch the boat and my dad drives us to the far end of the lake. My mom is with us, not so sure about this endeavor; they will stay with us the whole time.

The thing about any distance sport is that you have to get in that space.  That space where the world shrinks down to a single thing: keep moving.  It is the closest I ever get to mediation.  The problem that became clear to my parents early on, takes me a bit longer to notice: my sister is struggling.  She is falling behind, forcing my parents to use the boat to move back and forth between us.  This becomes more challenging, as the sun is starting to set.  I have reached my meditative state and can’t change my pace.  So mom and dad keep going between us (I will find out later that they eventually give my sister a life jacket, as they don’t want to leave her to check on me).

The swim takes on an out of body quality.   A beaver joins me at one point, swimming beside me for some time, before disappearing under the water.  I have a moment of concern, searching my brain for what beavers eat and wondering if my toes look like little fish in the water, before remembering they eat young tree and branches.  I alternate between a front stroke and swimming on my back.  I notice the stars start to come out and how startlingly quick it is getting dark. My parents continue to check in, asking if I want to stop.  I am confused; I can do this forever.

As the dark shadows of trees draw nearer, I realize there is a small problem.  The lake is surrounded by steep shores populated by thick pine trees.  The only place to climb out is the boat launch.  Which I can no longer see.  Pretty soon lights begin to appear, not too far ahead, first two, then four, six.  People are waiting for me and they are turning their truck lights on so I can see.  I adjust my course and head for the boat launch.  I arrive before my parents, who are still with my sister.

As I am getting closer, I feel something hit my hand.  I realize the water is shallow enough that I am scraping the bottom of the lake bed with my hand. I do not know, until I try to stand, how incredibly tired and weak I am.  I can swim forever, but walking proves to be a challenge.  I am also now aware that the air got much colder when the sun went down.  My uncle wades into the water, carrying a blanket, which he wraps around me.  The locals are laughing and congratulating me. They’re drinking tea and coffee from thermoses and offer me some, which I accept.  I am quickly bundled into a truck, with the heat on full.  As I look around, I see that a few dozen people are standing around and talking, watching the goings on, sharing hot drinks.  Some have brought lawn chairs and are busy visiting.  Pearl is in the truck with me, laughing heartily, telling me the only reason we were allowed to try this in the evening, was because everyone assumed we would give up in the first hour.  I have been swimming for two hours!  Eventually, my sister gives up and gets into the boat with mom and dad.  We all go back to the nasty old trailer and enjoy a large supper.

The summer moves on and the story of my lake swim becomes part of my family lore: just another crazy thing part of a ridiculous summer. I return to this place, to stay in another scary old trailer 24 years later.  My cousin is getting married.  Pearl died a few years ago and the store is closed.  There seem to be fewer people living around it.  Like many other rural communities, it appears to be dying.  We take part in all the usual wedding festivities: a ceremony by the lake, a pig roast, a dance at the hall.  People from the community are friendly and I ask me how I am related.  When I explain I am related to my cousin, through her dad’s family, one of the women instantly asks “Are you the little girl who swam Fowler Lake?”. The story has become part of the lore of this community as well; perhaps it is not dying as quickly as I first thought.

Author's Note

Any feedback is welcome.
And did you have to Google "Saskatchewan"?

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is a great story of youth & also the way an event like this becomes woven into the lore of a place. Your writing is very well done with almost no typos or grammar issues, easy to follow, everything clearly stated in a balanced mix of sentence structures. Really love the description of swimming as zen (I've done lots in my life & I love the mesmerizing relaxation of it). Really love the whimsy of the beaver following along . . . very fresh & surprising thoughts about what a beaver eats. I also love the end of the swim, uncle with blanket, everyone sitting around partying & watching -- great realistic details.

5th paragraph: "It is the closet I ever get to mediation." . . . think you mean "closest"

Last paragraph: "There seem to be less people living around it." . . . "There seems to be fewer people . . . " might sound a little better.

[Shannon]

Thank you for the kind words and for reading!
Thanks suggestions are spot on, and will be made, one I get to my desk top!

[Lost, n'MT]

I actually found myself enjoying this story more so than "North" as I felt more entranced and taken deeper into the story. The ending took me to a place where I didn't expect, as the last paragraph took a rather sad turn, only to bring another smile to my face after reading the last two lines.

“Are you the little girl who swam Fowler Lake?”. The story has become part of the lore of this community as well; perhaps it is not dying as quickly as I first thought."}

Such a perfect conclusion to what could have been a rather melancholy ending. This story reminds me of a happier time that I personally cannot relate to on this level, yet this leaves me feeling those times can and never will be duplicated (for better and for worse). I feel as if you captured a moment in time (or rather this particular summer) that could never be re-created. However, to be able to capture and re-live or re-experience this through a written story feels just as beautiful from this reader's perspective, than to live it.

Though I cannot personally relate to any of Saskatchewan or swimming in a lake, let alone so much swimming. I converted all the metric numbers to better grasp the distances and I was astonished by the distance to go with the nearly two hours of swimming. This was a very enjoyable story to read which caught me off guard in the end, to my pleasant surprise.

Even though I think this story was longer than "North", it appears to flow more smoothly in my opinion. Both are enjoyable in their own way, but I actually ended up appreciating and enjoying this one even more. Thank you for sharing as I didn't anticipate being as moved by this as I don't read many stories. However, I thought about this being compacted into poetic form, and I feel much would be lost in the transition. I am getting a better grasp of stories, and I thought this was very well told leaving the reader a detailed perspective of what a sentimental and enjoyable some could consist of in a Saskatchewan summer way back when.

Also in response to your questions in your Author's Note, I am familiar with the name "Saskatchewan", but evidently I've also confused it with "Saskatoon". However, I was aware of both being in Canada and really cold most of the year, but that's about it, lol. Thank you for a new perspective through sharing this story.

[Shannon]

I am surprised, but pleasantly so, that you prefer thus one. I thought the isolation would appeal more. I think I tell I story better when my experience is the focus.

[Lost, n'MT]

I was surprised too because I was expected to like "North" more. I understand why you'd think the isolation would appeal more. I am not sure if this just stood out more for me, or perhaps experience and practice appears more evident in this story? I honestly don't know, but I was unaware of "North" being your first piece but that could make some sense in highlight.

I agree with that observation. I don't know how soon after you wrote this piece, but perhaps it's worth considering that you're improving more than you realize? But much like poetry, stories are subjective, I really enjoyed this one of the most. Possibly more than the poems I have read, although I still Otto is my favorite for multiple reasons. Two enjoyable reads nonetheless.

[Dave]

I loved it! I think it's great that years later you can go back and find that you are part of the folklore of the area. Having once upon a time been a long distance runner I can appreciate your near"meditative" state. If I remember correctly we called it "being in the zone."

Thank you for a trip back to pleasant memories.

[Shannon]

Thanks for coming back this far to read. This one feels like my first composed piece as a writer (it's all been written in the last 3 months, since I joined the site) to me.

[Woody]

I have nothing but praise for this excellent narration, S. vivid descriptions. an enjoyable read indeed.
I've heard of Saskatchewan before. Canada, isn't it?

[Shannon]

Thank you. This one is true, entirely. Saskatchewan is a province in Canada. About four times the size of Tunisia, with about a million people in it.

[Taylor]

I have no suggestions for you because this is quite a fine story in my book. I love the use of first person, present tense for its immediacy. The language is spare and finely chiseled. Very, very nice work.

[Shannon]

Thank you so much for the exceptionally kind words Taylor.

[Kuldeep desai]

wow you are a swimmer......That's great........i had read these kind of Swimmer's story before and also i had seen in a movie called Benjamin Button. But this piece what you have written which had happened a while ago it may be a small little thing in front of other swimmers achievements but its really inspiring, no one dare to do such things in the age at which i was just in front of TV and watching Tom and Jerry, Its not just an story its a epic from your great memory.

[Shannon]

Thank you very much. It was fun and felt like a great achievement when I was 14.

[Shimmerbliss/CAF]

Great story! You made me feel that I was right there and I became lost in the tale. Good for you! What a memory. Well done!

[Shannon]

Thank you so much. The end was very much a shock to me!

[Frantzline Tingue]

I like this. Nice work. 👍🏽

[Stan Lee]

No, I didn't have to google it. I've been there! This is another brilliantly descriptive tale. Uniquely told and very enjoyable. Thanks for sharing. :)

[Shannon]

Thank you very much for the review. One can't help but wonder what brought you to Saskatchewan...not much there!

[Stan Lee]

Sure isn't. Plus it was the middle of winter. Freeeeeeeeeeeezing cold and barren as can be. :) Personally, I don't recommend it.

[Shannon]

You must have gone to the south. The barren comment always baffled me as a kid. Where I grew up, lots of forests and lakes. But then I figured out most of the population lives in the flat south.

[Stan Lee]

Yes, I was in the south east. Trust me. Flat. barren. icy. :D

[T. A. Thornton]

I just recently got into running, and one thing I really like about this story is the line about her not realizing how tired she was until after she was done swimming. That's spot on. I often don't even realize how exhausted I am until the end of my runs.

[Shannon]

Thank you for the kind words. I often tell these narrative kind of stories, precisely because I love the commonalities!