This summer, late in our eleven day trip, when Chris and I chose to traverse the Man Chain (the lakes This Man, That Man, Other Man, and No Man), I decided I was going to swim one. Why not? I'd portaged my speedo many rods, it was 9 a.m., and it was warm without a whisper of wind. Halfway through, we passed a campsite, and my traversion was officially witnessed by a group of men and their dog. Re-energized, I dove under the canoe and out into deeper, colder water. Utah, Chris's yellow lab, kept good tabs on me. Fifteen minutes later, as my limbs started to get sluggishly numb from the frigid lake, I pulled myself out onto a large rock. Sun-drenched and smiling, muscles taut and shivering, I waited for Chris and Utah to retrieve me.