If you’re getting the feeling there are endless ways to keep fit while sailing around the Bahamas, you’re getting the right feeling. This week’s suggestion: Swimming laps.
It’s hard to take a photo of myself swimming laps, so I thought I’d show you the water I swim in.
Things to consider:
The water temperature is around 73 degrees Fahrenheit, which can cool a body down, so I wear wetsuit shorts and a rash guard. I find a full wet suit too restrictive for swimming laps, and the rash guard prevents sunburn.
Since there are sharks in the area, I don’t swim at dawn, dusk or in murky water, and I don’t splash around as if I were a fish in distress.
I don’t wear anything shiny in case a barracuda is sharing my water space.
I either swim with a buddy or have a partner follow me in a kayak to reduce the risk of a dinghy hitting me.
Salt water is hard on the swim goggles, so I bring several pairs to last me the season.
It’s a great way to keep fit if we’re in an area that doesn’t have a beach good for running.
Thanks for reading . . .
Hello, Farley here.
Sometimes I wonder why my humans don’t listen to me. I know things they don’t know but have a little trouble getting my message across. They just don’t get what all my barks mean.
A case in point. You see me below. Clearly I look concerned.
We’ve been deep sea fishing all day. I’m the first one to let everyone know when a fish is on the line.
Zing goes the rod.
I’m up like a shot. “Fish on,” I bark. That get’s everyone’s attention. Human’s get so excited about catching a fish. They’re weird that way. This bark is me telling them the fish is there.
After a long day of fishing, the humans drop the hook and all go for a swim.
“What are you doing?” I bark at them. This bark means don’t go swimming.
“There could be sharks here,” I bark again. This bark means I really don’t want you to go swimming. There are sharks around.
No one listens. They all go swimming. Then one of them notices there is blood on the stern of the boat and decides to wash it off.
“Stop,” I bark. This bark means you are going to attract the big guy. But, hey do they listen to me? Nope. At least all humans are back on board at this point.
Now guess what happens. The man in the grey suit visits us. I swear is wasn’t more than a few drops of blood, but within minutes the shark was at the stern of the boat.
“Step back,” I bark, and this time they listen. Now it wasn’t the same shark that bumped my kayak. I know this because it was too small. No big deal really for a shark experienced do like me.
Somehow, I have to get my humans to stop swimming and to learn my barks.