Diving Into Memories

by Angela Sanford

   I’m a decent swimmer. I love the water—the feel of waves rolling onto a beach, the sand between my toes, the salt on my skin. Yes, I know that sounds almost ridiculous, but it’s true. I learned to swim in the Bay of Fundy from a very young age and continued lessons into my late teens. The only stroke I never mastered was the breaststroke, which held me back from completing all my swimming levels. Still, I was able to become a junior lifeguard and a junior instructor, and I cherished every opportunity that came with those roles.

   Swimming

in the Bay of Fundy had its own set of challenges. Sure, the saltwater helped you float, which made things a little easier. But for three weeks every summer—around the end of July into early August—we participated in swimming lessons dictated by the tides. Sometimes that meant getting up at the crack of dawn on a cold, blustery morning, drizzle falling as we stepped out of the car, already damp and shivering, holding our sides until we finally plunged into the water. The moment our heads were wet, it didn’t matter anymore. Other days, the sun shone brilliantly, and we enjoyed a picnic on the beach, spending extra hours with friends who were taking lessons alongside us. Back then, there was barely an empty space along the beachfront.

   Over the years, the road access to the beach has changed, and today when I go, the shore is almost deserted, save perhaps for a lone fisherman or two. I still remember struggling with the breaststroke, front crawl, and backstroke against the current and the waves, countless times turning my head to breathe only to be splashed with a gulp of salty water that I had to expel before pushing onward.

   Swimming lessons also meant the floating dock had to be set in place a few days before lessons began, and it would often remain for a week or two after. That dock was magical—it gave us a place to dive, to do cannonballs, to sunbathe, and to let our laughter ripple across the water.

   Swimming in a pool is wonderful, of course. No surprises, no little minnows sneaking into your bathing suit—though I never had that problem, I knew others who did. But a pool will never feel quite the same. There’s something about the Bay of Fundy—the tides, the waves, the friends, the cold, the sun—that makes those summer lessons unforgettable. It’s not just swimming; it’s a memory, a ritual, a piece of childhood that lingers long after you’ve left the water.