For the second time in as many years, the West Neck Pod (along with the rest of the eastern seaboard) is anxiously anticipating the arrival of a major hurricane. Last year’s Category 4 "Hurricane Earl" turned out to be a major non-event, bringing Long Island none of the threatened heavy rains and dangerously high winds, and cheating Pod members out of not even one good open-water swimming day as it passed harmlessly north and east of us (
http://thewater-blog.blogspot.com/2010/09/hurricane-schmurricane.html) ....The story is likely to be different with
"Hurricane Irene" – indeed, as I write this, the television news is reporting that already six people have died as Irene lurches her way northward along the coast. But early this morning, Irene – and those deaths – were still far to our south. With Irene’s arrival seemingly inevitable and imminent, and the immediate future of open-water swimming in its aftermath being something of a cipher, it was perhaps no surprise that a total of 16 somewhat trepidatious swimmers showed up at West Neck Beach for this morning’s swim – to see what Irene might have been stirring up and to get in one last swim before "Armageddon." (Regrettably, the Tobay Triathlon and Tri-Relay must be denoted another of Irene’s victims, having been cancelled early this morning – though
Don Bond still managed to claim his commemorative shirt, if not a trophy!) Even
Frank Fiore, now fully recovered from his horrific biking accident, rejoined the Pod for his first open-water swim of the season!
To the great surprise of all of us, Cold Spring Harbor showed no overt signs of Irene’s approach, other than the overhanging clouds. The water was eerily flat and calm, an effect that was exaggerated by the expansive vista of the harbor, now virtually devoid of boats and floating docks -- all moved to safer water in anticipation of the storm. Despite its surface calm, though, there was much stirring below, as we watched wave after wave of snappers leaping from the water in a desperate flight to escape the bigger fish hunting them below. Huge underwater swells, invisible on the still only lightly rippled surface as we began our swim to the Sailboat’s now-empty mooring, swept and lifted us, and in the strength of the incoming tide we felt Irene’s power for the first time. The return trip, though, was no less onerous, with an inexplicable outgoing current holding us as if in place. But despite the challenge, we felt privileged, swimming as a body in the vast, uninterrupted expanse of open water that touched the sky at the horizon. The swim was
awesome, in the truest sense of the word – inspiring awe as we contemplated the majesty of Nature, her beauty, and her enormous and sometimes terrible power...
It’s evening now, the air is dense and thick, and a steady rain is falling, signaling Irene’s relentless approach. I’ve done all the preparing I can, I’ve had my "last swim," and, like most of my fellow Long Islanders – swimmers and otherwise –
I am waiting....
Be safe everyone!...I’ll see you in the Salt! (but probably not tomorrow!)
The ravages of Hurricane Irene, and the resultant Health Department "advisory" that closed 131 Long Island beaches – including West Neck Beach – had Pod members itching and twitching to get back in the Salt by mid-week. Mindful of the Health Department recommendation that "bathers" wait 48 hours and four tidal flushes after a heavy rainfall, by Wednesday morning five of us deemed the water "safe enough" for swimming, even though the health advisory had not yet been officially lifted at 6:30 a.m. (though it was later that day, much to our relief!). But as I pulled into the parking lot at West Neck Beach that morning -- for the first time since Irene swept over our Island -- and viewed the altered landscape, I felt oddly sad and disoriented. The parking lot – which had been underwater days before – was still filled with sand, the beach was littered with logs and branches and other debris, the concrete bench lay broken where the surging tide had dumped it, and the swim lines were cast up on the beach, along with the buoy that demarcated the "Swim Area." The empty boat moorings – too soon for the season -- amplified the sense of strangeness – and this place that was so familiar to me now felt vaguely foreign. As I waded into the water, I felt somewhat apprehensive, not knowing what hazards Hurricane Irene may have hidden there.... 
We set out towards the Sailboat mooring – Gae, Evelyn, Karen, Cathy Kabat and I – marveling at the comparative cleanliness of the water, even as we dodged the occasional tree branch or other floating remnant of the storm. It was wonderful to swim again – and by the time we reached the mooring, I was starting to feel "normal" again....On the return trip, Karen, Cathy and I were roughly pacing one another (Gae and Evelyn having turned back earlier), and I knew it was Cathy swimming to my left because I saw her orange flotation buoy trailing behind her. So when I stopped to sight midway to the dock, saw Karen to my right, but found that Cathy was nowhere in sight, I became alarmed – especially when I looked back toward the Sailboat mooring and saw an orange flotation buoy in the distance just off the mooring, but moving rapidly northward. My alarm turned to confusion, especially when I saw an unknown, lone swimmer (with no flotation buoy) heading north along the Causeway at a rapid pace. I consulted with Karen, who at first was equally confused, but we finally came to the realization that the orange buoy was Cathy’s, which had somehow become detached from her waist belt, and that she was chasing it down, hell-bent for leather! 
Dara Torres certainly has nothing on our Cathy Kabat, who was skimming along the top of the water like l'Hydroptere in full sail, and who caught up with her buoy before it reached Fort Hill Beach! Karen and I swam back to meet her, and we all swam back together giddily, all the tension of the morning now lifted, and glad to be back home in the Salt for this last, wonderful swim of August 2011!
