Ducks, Debris

Next Swims: 

Friday morning: 6 a.m.

Saturdays/Sundays at Noon

Mon - Fri afternoons - 4 pm ish?

Last Swim: Wednesday 6 a.m.
Water Temp: Unknown - wetsuit weather
Air Temp: 48, cloudy
Clarity: Brown and completely opaque
Waves: BIG
Kru: Tattooed Lady, Dragonfly 

Shore Support:  Showgirl

Wim Hoffers

First 6 a.m. swim of the season! Already light on arrival but clouds totally obscure the sun.  Haven't  been able to glimpse the Pink Super Moon either over the past couple of days.  This lack of celestial definition has been creating a feeling of meh, redefined recently by The New York Times as "Languishing."

Breakers beyond the rocks almost as big Sunday's, washing far up on shore, bringing in new large pieces of debris and the damp smell of ducks and other organic matter. Off-putting grey-ish brown shore waves churn black junk.

TTL is ready to go, but "I'm not doing it" I declare as we walk down.  Establishing ourselves along the south wall, realize I have forgotten my blanket.  By the time I've traipsed up the stairs and down,  decide to swim after all. Since I'm here.

Back at the wall, TTL has changed her mind, now she's not going in.  But doesn't take much to change back when I say I am now up for it.  "But maybe we should wait for a lull?"  "Sure!  Like now.....or now....or now...."

  We suit up fully in layers of neoprene.  Limited water entry options with Wim Hoffers and a log taking up available shoreline space. 

The swim is brief but lovely, punctuated by earplug-hampered conversations, such as,  "WxxIOH Swoi ie8m97b  DI8z8?"  "What?" and "A little further?" "OK!"

Heading in, we dodge a lethal-looking ripped-away porch step. "This is what people are thinking of, when they say don't go in it's dangerous."

Getting out is tricky.  Big wave knocks me off my feet.  I stay down but the following one is smaller and I scramble out. TTL makes it out too.

Nobody cures Languishing like Mother Michigan.