Munn Lake Wild Swim #2

After a bit of wavering and wobbling and last-minute rescheduling, the first group swim of the season went off…swimmingly! The previous day, I had checked the temperature of the water at Munn Lake (just 4 miles south of Olympia) and also the slightly shallower Deep Lake (further south in Millersylvania State Park). Both lakes were between 56 and 58 degrees F and so we opted for the closer, small, and more sheltered Munn Lake.

Like many of the lakes in Washington state, Munn Lake was formed in the wake of the retreat of the Puget Lobe of the Vashon Glacier that covered South Puget Sound during the last ice age, which occurred 19,000 to 13,000 years before the present time. Munn Lake is within the Deschutes River Basin and is fed by groundwater seeps and precipitation; there are no inflows and outflows from Munn Lake.

This lake was named after Edwin Munn, a dairy farmer who settled in the area in the early 1900s. Thanks to the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife, which maintains access to the lake via a paved entrance road, parking lot, and concrete slab boat ramp, members of the public can enjoy non-motorized boating, fishing, and swimming in the lake.

On this breezy Friday afternoon in April, four swimmers and a cheering squad of two made drove in a brief rain shower to gather at the top of the boat ramp. We set up chairs, hot water for tea, and pans of brownies and almond cake. There were just two fishermen on the far end of the lake—incentive for us to go gently into this good water.

“Are we really doing this?” I asked because i knew everyone was thinking it.

Yes. Though not without much “Nooooo!” body language, brief posing for a group photo, mild shrieking, and nervous laughter.

Getting psyched: This looks like a summer day on the boat ramp into Munn Lake, but on April 12, the water temperature was 56 degrees F and the air temperature not much higher. While 56 degrees F might be “warm”to some wild swimmers, it seemed “do-ably brisk” to us. Photo by A. Butler

Our foursome covered what I imagine is the typical range of swimmers: One moved quickly into the water like a mermaid with no fanfare or yelping. One was a wee bit tepid but with a few deep breaths entered the water gracefully, swam several strokes with her head under water and stayed in longer than anyone else. One (me) who really really wanted to get back into the warm car but, once numb from the waist down, stopped resisting, slid in tensely, and then kicked and flapped madly to stay warm. And one who got in up to her neck then retreated to the warmth of dry land to join the cheering squad, vowing to build up her cold-water tolerance. One thing we all had in common was that we were smiling and laughing all the way. And smiling even more broadly when the sun came out.

Getting In: Though we all stood on the boat ramp at the same time, we were out of sync getting in. The two furthest out did a relaxed breast and crawl; the one in the middle (me) flutter kicked; and the one on the foreground wore her flip-flops in, carried one out while returning to shore soon after her plunge. Photo by A. Butler

I’ve been trying to figure out where the resistance to cold water lies, where the lure of cold water originates, and what is happening physically, mentally, emotionally when we overcome 5 minutes of discomfort to reap the benefits of 15 minutes of immersion in cold water. Does the water actually feel good or is the anticipation of the endorphin exhilaration after the swim enough to block any “pain” we might feel in cold water? Does swimming in a group make the water more tolerable, enjoyable, beneficial?

Or was these feel-good vibes just the effect of being in water, in cold water, or simply out in nature? I think I’ll answer “yes” to all my questions here.

All of this topped by post-plunge cups of hot tea and goodies, conversation, and sunshine.

For more than a decade, I have swum in Munn Lake. Sometimes alone (in summer) and sometimes with other swimmers, floaters, and the fish and the osprey. On the first day of spring this year, I swam in this same lake with a friend. The water was 52 degrees, the air an unseasonable 80. We didn’t really swim. We stayed in the water for a good 15 minutes just smiling and laughing and appreciating the company and the very fact that in the Pacific Northwest, we could just walk into a lake in March and loll around as long as we wanted. That swim was at least twice as much fun as my solo swims and very empowering. I could swim in cold water (and enjoy it) and I lived in a community where other people did too. Similarly, swimming with three other people tripled the fun and having a land-based support group (bundled in down, fleece, and blankets) boosted the fun-o-meter even higher.

Getting out: Once you’re finally in it’s easy to stay in. Photo by A. Butler

Feeling Good: Three levels of head submersion: Full (left), none (middle); only the ends (right). Photo by M.T. Goforth

Feeling Better: Oh the joys of warm, dry clothes and a hot cuppa tea! Photo by M.M. Ruth

MUNN LAKE is a smallish, shallow lake 4 miles south of Olympia. It has easy access via the boat ramp managed by the Washington Department of Fish & Wildlife (Discover Pass required). Because this is a relatively shallow lake (19 feet at its deepest) this lake warms up more quickly than other nearby lakes (Ward, Hewitt, for example). Munn is stocked for catch-and-release fishingh rainbow trout and has a naturally reproducing population of largemouth bass, yellow perch, bluegill, sunfish, and black crappie—though none nibbled at our toes during our swim. As with any lake where fishing and swimming occur, watch your step for hooks and other sharp things. For more info and directions to Munn Lake, visit the WDFW site here. Munn Lake is periodically closed to swimming due to chemical treatment of the invasive aquatic vegetation that blocks the flow of water between Munn and Susan Lake. Warning signs are posted at the boat ramp.

Liquid bliss. Photo by M.M. Ruth

The Lake-Swimming Adventures Begin

One hot, dry September nearly a decade ago, I traveled with two friends to swim in the lakes south of the Grand Coulee Dam in eastern Washington. We spent hours in both Lake Lenore and Banks Lake swimming in the refreshingly cool water after long hikes in the dry, cactus-loving hills above the lakes. And I do mean swimming—crawl, breast stroke, back stroke—not just dipping into the shallows to cool off. 

Ten years ago, I was newish to Washington and to the story of the Missoula Floods that shaped this strange landscape. I remember being impressed by the strange basalt cliffs and asking my family to imagine the boulder fields of Joshua Tree National Monument laid out in the bottom of the Grand Canyon and then to imagine the canyon flooded with water to leave the tops of the boulders exposed. That’s what it was like swimming in these lakes. When I turned my head to breathe while swimming in Lake Lenore, my face was inches from the sheer basalt walls. In Banks Lake, you could swim into a maze-like cove strewn with sun-warmed boulders, crawl out onto a boulder to warm up, then slip right back into the water. 

It was sublime.

But I had since forgotten exactly where that Banks Lake cove was and I wanted to swim there again. After a spate of unseasonably warm March days in Olympia, I packed my wetsuit and my husband and I strapped the canoe on the car for a weekend at the lake.

Alas, Banks Lake was not how I remembered it.

Why didn’t anyone tell me it got really really cold in eastern Washington in winter? Photo by M.D. .Ruth.

Yes, that’s ice. Except for the liquid water along the nearshore, Banks Lake was frozen. 

Yes, I could have found this out with a simple phone call, but it was inconceivable to me that all that water could have frozen at all or could still be frozen. Though I’ve been living in Washington for 12 years, I am still very newish to eastern Washington.

I was disappointed but luckily, there was a vast landscape to explore by foot and car. There was much geology to see and understand. And I was happy to embrace the legacy of the Missoula Floods without installing an ice-breaker on the prow of our canoe or getting hypothermia.

Embracing the Missoula Floods meant doing my homework and reading a few of the excellent books on this subject. It meant studying the interpretive signs posted along the highways that lead from Soap Lake to the Grand Coulee Dam along Highways 17 and 155. It meant asking my husband (the geology major) lots of questions he cannot answer because it’s just too incredible. And—most importantly—it meant giving my imagination plenty of time to expand to take in the scope and magnitude of the floods. 

Next Blog: Why Banks Lake is a lake and why it is where it is.

Still on Cloud Nine

Though I could talk about the clouds for days or weeks on end, I had just an hour of pleasant cloud conversation and cloud gazing with Molly Walsh of Thurston Talk last week, in advance of my April 18th talk at the Olympia Country and Gold Club. Read Molly’s article in Thurston Talks here. And then join me on April 18th at 5:30 (socializing) for my presentation (6 p.m.). This event is open to the public! No need to bring your four iron! I’ll have books on hand to sell and sign.

Olympia Country and Golf Club
3636 Country Club Drive NW, Olympia
360-866-7121

Munn Lake Swim #1

What better way to celebrate the vernal equinox than to tiptoe into a local lake with a friend and fellow cold-water enthusiast? It was a spontaneous plunge—planned just minutes before the official moment of spring at 2:58 p.m. Pacific Daylight Time. With the air temperature in the low 80s in Olympia today—and cooling back down to the 60s tomorrow, it was a carpe diem kind of event.

I had been to my local Y in the morning with my new swim goggles and plan to see if I could swim for an hour without any significant breaks. Surprisingly I could. It was almost anticlimactic. I thought I would be struggling by the end of 45 minutes and would finish the hour feeling like I had preserved and really accomplished something. I swam for an hour and ten minutes and then I just felt done. Eventually, I’d like to build more speed, strength, and stamina so I can swim comfortably for an hour in open water. But there is a big difference between a lap pool and a lake (especially if its cold) and I wanted to work on getting acclimated to cold water so I could enjoy a long swimming season this year. I didn’t want to wait until the summer solstice to start. So why not see how cold a cold lake feels right now?

A few e-mails back and forth with my friend and we were off to Munn Lake, at the south edge Olympia. There were just a few fishermen on the lakeBetween the two of us, had two enormous towels, one wetsuit, two big fleecy sweaters, one hotpot of water for tea, two mugs, one thermos of coffee with Kahlua, and Discover Pass, and one very excited golden retriever. And a thermometer for testing the water. It was 52 degrees F. Bracing? Refreshing? Painfully cold? It was hard to tell.

I wasn’t sure I was going to get all the way in the lake, but my friend just peeled down to her bathing suit and started walking down the submerged concrete boat ramp. Just like that. I announced that my goal was to get in slowly, eventually, and not scream or use any swear words. By the time my ankles were wet, my friend was already in up to her neck, smiling. “It’s lovely! It’s hard on the arms, but otherwise perfect.” She looked like she meant it.

So I tried to follow suit. The longer I stayed above the water, feeling the unseasonably warm sun on my skin, the colder the water felt. Forward, ho! My legs numbed quickly, I splashed water on my arms, winced, then pushed off the last concrete slab and was in. It was…not bad.

There is definitely a timing trick here. Plunge in to quickly and you could shock your system (heart) in a dangerous way. Too slowly and you are letting matter get over mind, giving yourself too many opportunities to change your mind, lose your resolve, and retreat to your big warm towel and steaming cup of hot something.

I turned on my back and floated myself up the surface of the water to take advantage of the relatively warm water and the very warm sun. Now it was delightful and I relaxed into the lake, into the landscape, into an afternoon that was the fulfilled promise of Spring.