We reached the northern end of Tirrell Pond in the early afternoon, when the autumn sun was still hot and high in trees on Tirrell Mountain rising up to the east were just beginning to peak—pops of bright gold and crimson amongst the evergreens—and we basked in their warm, hazy glow.
I wanted to swim immediately, while my skin still prickled with sweat. My boyfriend and I shed our backpacks and our clothes and padded out on a sandy spit, and then cautiously waded into the water. After a few steps, the sand beneath our feet disappeared, and we plunged in. The water was icy, so cold the arches of my feet cramped in protest as I paddled around. But this was a moment I didn’t want to end, so I continued to bob for as long as I could stand it.
After we toweled off and bundled up, our blood now thoroughly chilled, we went to explore
