It was a warm day when Marta revealed the lake to us. But now with the storm coming in it was deserted. In spite of my full swimming wetsuit, swimming hat and booties, the wind caught the hairs on the back of my neck making them stand on end like tiny pins. I tried to get into a rhythm in the water, go to a quiet place where stroke becomes effortless and breathing so well timed that I could believe I was a fish-person breathing underwater. But being a lake, and not a round one at that, to swim around it I had to keep sighting and shifting my direction to avoid the submerged trees and other spiky debris still here from when the area was flooded to form the reservoir. The water was dark and I tried desperately not to think about what might be lurking beneath the surface.