![]() I don’t need a number to tell me that it’s cold. I didn’t bother bringing a thermometer for the water. ![]() I shiver in the morning air, just slightly above freezing. I pull off my bulky wool sweater and toss it on the barnacle-covered rocks, leaving me standing in only my red swimsuit and hand-knit wool hat. I could be sitting inside drinking coffee, but instead I am getting ready for a swim.Īt the edge of the bay, my wool tights come off, neoprene booties on. The kind where the water and sky blend together into one, imbued with a raw, wet cold that seeps into your bones. It’s another gray Pacific Northwest winter morning.
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