Mission to Swim

We went on a quest for a new swimming hole yesterday.

It didn’t start out that way. Initially, our plan was to go to our conventional lazy swimming hole along the Navarro, since we (ok, I) didn’t feel like hiking to our other favorite spot. First, of course, we had to wander around Harvest collecting snacks, and Sven picked out an awesome watermelon, using his unique powers of watermelon selection to zone in on the best one. Next, we headed out to the river.

Unfortunately for us, someone else was already at our swimming spot, which was a little strange, since it’s not very well known. Since we don’t really like to share and we were up for an adventure, we quested further down the road in search of a swimming hole I remembered from my youth. We actually looked for it once already this summer, but a familiar landmark had disappeared, so we were unsuccessful.

This time, however, our mission was meant to be. We traipsed down a short path to find ourselves balancing on some very large logs next to invitingly deep water and across from a sunny sand bank. We promptly stripped, so as not to get our clothing wet, and we ferried all of our goods across so that we could lie in the sun eating avocado and goat cheese on Bruce Bread olive rolls. Sven busted open the watermelon and we devoured the sweet, crispy flesh in between handfuls of cherries, spitting the pits into the bushes behind us and wondering if cherry trees would appear. (Verdict: no.)

Later I tried jumping off the logs, and I found it quite satisfactory.

Unfortunately, the wind came up in the later part of the afternoon, which made being on land slightly less pleasant. I think that on a perfectly still sunny day this spot would be ideal, and it may become my new favorite. Especially if we put in a zip line so we can soar across the river to the opposite bank. Oh, yes.

There are few things I like more than spending a good chunk of an afternoon at the river with friends. Especially on Sundays, when my self-imposed work week looms early the next morning. Well, early as in whenever I wake up, but still. My carefree hours are waning to a close on Sundays, and I like to do something fun rather than skulking about in dread of the next day. I’m also very glad that I came home when I did, as it allows me to spend time with Tristan before he leaves for Chicago. As he himself said while we were sitting on the bank drinking black raspberry soda: “Everybody knows Mendo summers are awesome.”

Indeed, they are.