For as long as I can remember, I've had an annoying love-hate relationship with the summer. Really, it's a comical cycle of me basking in the glorious sunshine until I'm drenched in sweat and bitter because of it.
That's not to say I hate being wet, in fact, I love being wet. (Get your mind out of the gutter.) Swimming is one of the best reprieves from the intense heat, and it's something that I've done a lot in my life.
For years, my family camped out at Lake Nahwatzel, south of Olympic National Forest, for the Fourth of July weekend, and each morning I would wake up bright and early with my swim trunks on, ready to jump into the water and stay there most of the day. And when I stayed a week at my grandparents' house during summer break, I'd wake up as early as I could each morning to go to the YMCA with my Papa. Those mornings were a lawless time where I could play around much more than I swam.
Once I was a teen, my best friend Krystal and I frequented the Lewisville Regional Park and swam in the East Fork Lewis River from April to September. One time we even braved the frigid rapids in October. (It was not a great time, but it's fun to write about now!)
It's not just that I love swimming, I've always felt this innate pull toward the water. One of my favorite Disney channel movies growing up was The Thirteenth Year, a coming-of-age story about a boy who's really a mermaid. And whenever I watched shows like H2O: Just Add Water or Avatar: The Last Airbender, I imagined that I, too, could control this life-giving element.
There's even family lore about a 3-year-old Colton, who yearned for the sea so much he bolted from his family and raced down the Ocean Shores beach before being apprehended by one of his uncles.
However, I can't be that surprised. This liquid longing is clearly something that's been etched into my bones. Both of my parents, and their parents before them, grew up in Grays Harbor County, braving the icy waves of the Pacific Ocean and the swift currents of the Wynoochee and Satsop rivers that flow into the Chehalis.
Despite all that, by the time I moved to Spokane in the summer of 2023, I hadn't been swimming in more than a year. It was a sad realization, but last summer, I was lucky enough to find a few places to get wet in the Spokane River. (None of which I will name here to ensure I can continue to find parking.) ♦
