When the calendar changed to September, the Swiss weather gods flipped the switch from summer sun to cloud cover, which seems to be the default weather through fall, winter, and a good portion of spring. Unless I try cold dipping this winter, my last 2024 swim was September 3rd. Goodbye river, hello rain.
The river swimming season lasted about six weeks. Before late July, constant rain and cool temperatures prevented me from venturing in. A colleague told me about an app that lists river statistics like temperature and water height, and I started checking that obsessively, combined with visual inspection on my way to work every day. Was the water high, fast, brown, or green and clear near the banks? I’ve been working on a rhyme about when to swim, based on water color. All I’ve got so far is “If the water’s brown, stay in town. If it’s green, jump right een.”
As you can see, I am not a poet, and I welcome your suggestions.
Once it warmed up and the river calmed down, I swam about ten times, on weekends and after work. I went alone a few times, because as a friend says, “If I don’t do certain things alone, I’ll just be sitting at home.” This is also the person who says she feels the least body-conscious in the river. She is wise and correct. One of the things I love about Rhine swimming is the variety of people and bodies you see, in all states of dress. By the end of the season, I was walking back to my bike in shorts and a sports bra, a look I haven’t worn since cross country practice in high school.
Getting in the river also gives me a temporary peace of mind similar to that I once got while running. Pounding on asphalt used to obliterate all my intrusive thoughts; floating in the river is significantly gentler on my body, but it also quiets my anxiety for 20 to 40 minutes, depending on the speed of the current. It’s hard to fret when you’re weightless and floating through the city, watching the many scenes playing out on river banks.
Speaking of those scenes, I took notes of summer along the Rhine, hoping to entice you to visit. Here are some things I saw as I floated and walked back to my bike or the tram:
-a birthday party, complete with a separate table for cake and flowers, champagne chilling in a plastic storage container
- a man in a green Speedo, sambaing with a bikini-clad woman
- a mallard duck landing near the river’s edge. An Egyptian goose flew out of nowhere and chased that duck off the river bank and across the river. The next day, when I passed that spot, I saw two Egyptian geese – and their gosling. This explains why I saw these geese in that spot throughout the summer, once hissing insistently at pigeons, once honking at a dog.
-so many ducks with their heads in the water, tails in the air.
-the firefighting boat steering upriver on a mission and returning with two men, in their swim trunks, who apparently needed rescuing.
-a man standing waist-high in the water, holding his little white dog in his left hand and scooping up river water with his right hand, giving the dog a river bath.
-two women floating downstream with a floofy white dog on a pink inflatable raft.
-a guy in his swim trunks doing a headstand on the steps by the river.
-men and women jumping off both the Middle Bridge and the Johanniterbrücke, which is verboten and alarming to see, bodies falling from above into the water. The idea that someone might accidentally jump on me as I emerge from under the bridge makes the swimming a little less peaceful.
-a woman in a fuchsia bikini sitting on the beach – our “beaches” are rocks – using a boulder as a desk to write or draw in a notebook.
-a couple sitting on a boulder in the water, drinking tallboys of Feldschlösschen.
-a different couple sitting on a different boulder, making out.
-a couple floating down the river in matching bucket hats that looked like frogs.
-at least two women taking naps on the sidewalk. There are multiple paths along the river: the street, which cars, bikes, and pedestrians use, a promenade lined by trees, and, at least for one section of the river, a walkway below street level, cut into the river bank. Along the bank, there are wide steps, perfect for tanning, picnicking, having a drink. This is usually where people choose to take naps, sun themselves, stretch out and read books. So it’s notable when I spot someone stretched out on the sidewalk, nearly lying in the tree planters. Especially if they’re topless.
-a guy sitting by the river with an elaborate maté set up. Another man, maybe late 50s, sitting at a camping table with a glass of wine and a plate of watermelon slices. I saw him two or three times, always with a different snack.
-two shirtless men sitting on a bench, each playing a guitar, harmonizing a song in Spanish. I could hear them from the river, and as they came into view, I saw they weren’t busking, just singing and playing for themselves.
-on the last day of August, as we floated around the bend by the cathedral, I could hear alphorns playing downriver. I never saw them, but those melancholy horns were the perfect end of swimming season soundtrack.
Like this newsletter? Forward it to a friend! And feel free to share any summer highlights with me, in comments or via email.