Cedar River swim no. 1

S and I went to the Cedar River late in the afternoon and looked for the easy wade-in spot I’d found early in the month. We found it and pushed ourselves through the row of landscape shrubs, and I was surprised to look down on high weeds, brush, and a very steep riverbank — not at all what I remembered. We backtracked through the bushes. When I looked to my hard right, I saw the open, grassy dirt path I remembered, which led easily to the water’s edge. How could I have missed it? It was right there. I guess I was more excited than observant. We followed the path and stepped off the crumbly dirt into the cool water. It rushed past our ankles as we walked.

It was a longish wade from there to water deep enough to float. I was grateful for my friend’s patience with my desire to wade from shallow to deep rather than plunging off the riverbank into waist-high, flowing, cold water for our first time in the river.

As we waded and my feet got cold, in mesh wading shoes, I wondered if the time spent wading would mean I’d start shivering as soon as I submerged. That wasn’t the case, it turned out. And the low-70s temperature was warm enough, even under the overcast sky, so that the air didn’t feel cold. After ten minutes of wading, the water was almost waist deep and we weren’t too cold to swim.

S suggested lying back into the water instead of plunging forward or (my method) crouching down to neck-deep. Going in backward is said to lessen the shock of the cold water. So we did that, and I agreed that it was a little less startling. The cold water felt great, and not “really really” cold — maybe 60 degrees? Slightly warmer than the saltwater at Alki, which was 57 degrees when I got in it last August.

We saw sandpiper-type birds, green herons, great blue herons, a kingfisher (and no fish, but there must be some fish or amphibians to support those birds), willow and alder trees, clear cold water, and — airplanes everywhere. Parked airplane tails rise above the riparian trees on both sides, but everything’s quiet in general. Most (not all) of the planes flying in and out regularly at that airport are very small.

We floated around and relaxed, enjoying the cold sinking in to our bodies, while also keeping track of riverbank spots where it would be easy to get out of (or into, next time) the water. Cold water is so calming after the initial shock. S had said so with great enthusiasm when she started swimming at Alki. It took me months, last year, to gather the nerve to go along and swim there. Just the fact that she’d described how good the cold water made her feel — physically and mood-wise — made me open to experiencing the same thing, and I did. Since then I’ve read about cold water and the vagus nerve, bla bla bla, cold water is healthy if you can tolerate it and if you want to do the uncomfortable work of acclimating. (I’m acclimated to a small degree; I wouldn’t want to get into an athlete’s ice bath.)

Looking downstream towards the low, sturdy Boeing facility bridge and the river’s outlet into Lake Washington, the view was picturesque green and blue, watery, full of broken-clouded sky reflected on the deep end of the river. With the water at eye level, all the tall weeds and medium-sized shrubs and small trees made a good facsimile of a natural riparian zone, despite the airport on one side and the groomed narrow park between the river and the Boeing factory on the other.

After floating and swimming and submerging for about 20 minutes, on top of the 10-minute wade, I was shivering a bit, so we headed back upstream to where we’d got in. The current was gentle but strong, and we alternated breaststroking and walking until we were only knee-deep. I was glad there wasn’t much of a breeze as we were so exposed in our wet swim clothes. 

Next time, I’ll want to wade in off the riverbank directly into deeper water rather than wading downstream, and we found a good place to do that. 

Swimming in this beautiful clear river, even though not in a pristine wild setting, was a goal that popped into my head when I read Waterlog (Roger Deakin, 1999), and I’m so happy to have made it happen with the help of S. Hope we can do it again before this summer is over.

Below: a few pics of this area, only the first two from this summer.