Dark Water
In Constance we stayed in a place called Litzelstetten. It had a beautiful and secluded public ‘strandbad’ a public bathing area.
There are hundreds of these around the lake but this one was quieter and had gently sloping grassy verges and a kiosk selling cheap bockwurst and weiß beer. We loved it there. The strandbad also had a concreted walkway leading into the water and a floating pontoon (pictured above).
G and I were a bit obsessed with this pontoon. I had some fanciful idea about being out there at night to watch the annual shooting star storm. Neither of us really wanted to brave the moonlight swim though, and we lacked the bravado to borrow one of the rowing boats people left lying around. In fact we didn’t much fancy the swim to the pontoon in the daytime either, it was really far out and although the lake was mostly calm, there’d be occasional big waves coming in from the tow of passing boats. That didn’t seem to bother the locals much though, they’d swim out as whole families and lay around sunbathing and diving in.
On the second last day I goaded myself into joining one of the families. It was comforting swimming towards other people, even though the water just around the pontoon was a bit creepy-cold. On the last day we went for a last dip before checking out of the hotel. I saw one of Constance’s famous zeppelins gliding towards the pontoon. It wasn’t a shooting star storm but it looked pretty awe inspiring.
I kept twitching my toes to avoid getting cramp but the swim out was fine. Having the pontoon to myself was pretty incredible – I felt like I was right out in the middle of the lake and I could see G far far away, shielding his eyes and watching me from the shore. There were only one of two couples paddling around and we were otherwise alone. I waved up at the zeppelin, wished I had a waterproof camera and decided to make my way back.
I had put on my nerdy goggles and a nose clip for diving but still a bit wary of cramping up I decided to climb down instead. Once in the water I started to swim the breast stroke but didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I tried again but literally made no progress. The current was pulling me sideways and the water felt much, much colder than before.
I changed to front crawl but that only seemed to make me thrash around and get out of breathe. I started to hyperventilate, blood pounding in my head, chest seizing up, the whole works.
My goggles and nose clip were making me really claustrophobic but I wasn’t sure if I’d sink if I stopped moving my arms. I looked to the shore I saw the nearest person was a good 60 metres away. Fuck. To call out or not to call out? They couldn’t reach me quickly, I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to call out as I couldn’t catch my breathe.
I tried to calm down and kicked as hard as I could in the water, ripping the goggles off with one hand. The world burst back into colour and sound and I swam a furious few strokes then tore the nose clip off too. After another heart-pounding minute the water started to get warmer and my breathing was less shallow. I started to laugh with relief – cursing my abject stupidity, not really sure if I’d just started to freak out or whether the currents were unusually strong.
I swam straight back quickly and tried to shake the feeling off but it stayed with me all day. I was pretty freaked when I read this story in on the way home. I’m really sorry for Liam’s family, it’s an awful tragedy and I can see how easy it is to ‘get into difficulties’ as they call it.
