Editor’s note: Walt Amses is a writer and former educator who lives in Calais.
[A]fter a sunny, warm summer that even through September felt like it would never end, early October finds clouds, drizzle and temperatures not quite out of the 40s as a solitary swimmer makes his way across the pond, knowing very well that the last few days of the season have arrived. At first the full wetsuit — a grudging concession to reality — doesn’t make much difference, but eventually, the thin layer of water on skin did its job, warming sufficiently to quash thoughts of immediately turning around; but barely tolerable is hardly seductive enough to justify continuing much longer.
The ritual of swimming beyond Labor Day became less daunting this year after the water warmed early thanks to brilliant sunshine for the several weeks either side of summer solstice and several week-long episodes of similar weather throughout July and August. By the time school begins, Vermont’s lakes and ponds are generally losing heat pretty rapidly due to a variety of factors: longer nights — we’ve lost almost three hours of daylight since June — and falling temperatures, exacerbated by almost daily fog that frequently doesn’t lift until late morning.
Obviously the warmer the water, the longer it takes to cool — particularly with even more abundant sunshine slowing down the process, unusual for the last weeks of summer but more than welcome by the few diehards obsessed with stretching the season into the dazzling spectacle of Green Mountain autumn. The big question as the peepers stream in from their color-deprived enclaves in other states and even other countries, is usually “How brilliant, early or late will the kaleidoscopic ‘peak’ be, and how long will it last?” — vitally important to area businesses that depend on the reds to stay in the black.
The precise conditions that introduced swimming through September to a number of folks this year who’d only taken the sporadic, icy dip on an unseasonably warm day or had never before made the attempt, might very well have set the stage for somewhat muted foliage. Some local prognosticators believe that dry, sunny conditions — in other words, a perfect summer — contribute to a less-than-stellar autumn, particularly if it’s windy because leaves are less securely tethered.
But as though someone pressed the right button, things changed dramatically overnight, with a postcard quality color popping up wherever you looked.
According to the Old Farmer’s Almanac, the most likely factors that bring about better foliage viewing appear to be the opposite of what we’ve experienced: a generally wet growing season followed by a dry autumn with cool, frostless nights. Our borderline drought conditions may even cause an early “shutdown” of some trees, causing them to drop (leaves) early, prior to achieving their full color palette.
Central Vermont and the southernmost portions of the Northeast Kingdom at first seemed to bear out at least some of this down-home wisdom with colors exploding brilliantly in certain locales but inconsistent in others. But that changed distinctly in the days leading up to Columbus Day weekend.
While several places in Groton State Forest appeared peaking at exactly the right time — Kettle and Osmore ponds are good bets — some of the other panoramic views were taking their time and seemed a little less vibrant than previous years. But as though someone pressed the right button, things changed dramatically overnight, with a postcard quality color popping up wherever you looked.
As life-affirming as slowly gliding across the pond’s surface can be, particularly surrounded by the best of autumn, the message is stark; clear as the water itself: this transition is inexorable. It’s going to happen as it has for eons, a tiny brushstroke in an intricate mural of time and change, connected to billions of others, all interdependent.
Even with several days of clear skies and unseasonable warmth prior to Columbus Day weekend, the ponds will continue losing heat each day. The leaves will come and go; loons will eventually head toward the Atlantic coast; trout will move to deeper water; and perhaps a flock of geese will drop in for a night’s rest on their thousand-mile journey.
At first our swimmer thought just maybe, he might get in another several days … even a week. But after a half hour in the water, reality intrudes again, with the realization this will be the last swim until spring. However abruptly the cold water seemed to arrive though, it was no surprise. He knew it was coming as it always does. He was also aware of how exquisitely rare summer circumstances made it possible for him to swim over 100 days.
Days later, walking the road adjacent to the shore, gazing at the water, he realized that all that time he’d spent in the pond these past several months would sustain him through whatever winter had in store.
