For six weeks this summer, my wife and I are spend­ing three- to four-day, ex­tend­ed weekends on an idyllic lake 70 miles north of Manhattan.  We have rented a house that sits on a small lake (about three quarters of a mile long and a one quarter of a mile wide). 

When it rains, the lake over­flows the small dam that trans­formed what was a swampy pond into the lake.  The lake then becomes a very small source for one of New York City’s water supply reser­voirs.

Since the water in the lake ultimately becomes part of the drinking sources for some 10,000,000 New York City residents and their neigh­bors, the lake is kept wonderfully clean.

Most of the 80 houses on the lake are set back in the woods, so the view from the shore is of an extensive, sylvan set of rolling green hills.   It is very quiet (even not in comparison to Manhattan standards!), as no motorboats are allowed.  Motorboats would founder on the numerous hidden rocks in the lake even if they were permitted.

What a striking change from the streets and even the parks of Manhattan!  Even in the most quiet part of Cen­tral Park, there is a hum in the background of traffic or air-conditioner compressors.

We have never seen more than three or four canoes and kayaks on lake at any given time.  Such a rural and unpopulated vista seems extraordinary in light of its nearness to the city.

This July has proven to be a fortuitous time to have a green respite from the city – almost two steady weeks of 90 to 100 degree weather.  The heat – particularly when there was a hot wind that wafted over the streets and sidewalks last week –  was trying the spirits of, and dehydrating, even the most intrepid New Yorkers.  Many of the city’s visitors with whom I share the sidewalks near Times Square seemed utterly unprepared for the onslaught, and were wilting in the heat.  Entrepreneurs were selling iced bottles of water at many mid­town subway stops and on the pedestrian path over the Brooklyn Bridge.

Every day we have been there, my wife and I have taken daily swims to small groups of rock islands that crop up in the center of the lake.  There we can rest or even harvest a few blueberries from the bush or two strug­gling to gain a foothold in the rock crevices.

Swimming continues to be the grounding activity around which my daily routine revolves, whether I’m in the country or in the city.   Physically and psychologically, it is the key to my stability and gives me some sense of inner peace, notwithstanding the dexamethasome (Decadron) and its weekly dose of jitters that I experience for at least three days that I must take it as part of my myeloma treatment.

Forty-five minutes to an hour in the water also provides me a complete release from any residual burning in my feet from the nerve damage that’s been induced by the variously wonderful chemicals that have kept my myeloma in check for nearly four years.  I don’t even think about neuropathy or multiple myeloma as soon as I start my trek through the water.

I do find that lake swimming in the country is indeed very different from swimming laps in a pool underneath a skyscraper near Times Square.

On the lake, my mind wanders much further afield from the swimming.   I don’t have to carefully watch where I’m swimming; I don’t have to hew to the lane marker; and, of course, I don’t have to turn around every 25 yards and push off the wall at the end of the pool.

Although I’m able to drift into reverie in the lake as well as in the pool (especially when I have a swimming lane to myself), those reveries last much longer and seem much more silent in the lake.

Since I have gotten in pretty good shape through my regular swims, I have signed up for a one-mile swim this coming Saturday. It’s a swim that crosses a wide spot in the Hudson River, from Newburgh to Beacon.  Kayaks line the path of the swimmers as they swim across the Hudson just as the tide changes the direc­tion from north to south. 

Though the river is affected by tidal currents, no significant salt makes its way the 70 miles up to Beacon from the New York Harbor.  And the water of the Hudson at Beacon is drinking water quality (the town of Beacon uses the Hudson River for its water supply), so it should be safe for me to enter the water.  The wa­ter temperature is expected to be about 75 degrees, perfect for an hour swim. I am eager for the chal­lenge, and I think I have gotten final clearance from my wife, who is not enthusiastic about this venture.

Besides being out in or near the lake, my wife and I spend a lot of time sitting in our temporary living room reading our books or chatting with friends or family members who have come to visit.

The owner of this retreat has left his wonderfully simple, fully-stocked house for us to enjoy.  The summer pace and rural quiet surrounding the house are providing a welcome shake-up to my usual rhythms of the fast-paced city I live in.

We feel very lucky indeed.