Happy Sunday re-run day. Here's a sort of revolting post about leeches. Thank goodness you'll never find one in Geneva.
Three boys in the back of a red (with some sweet "wood" trim) Chevy station wagon captained by my hair trigger father driving as fast as possible through the dark Minnesota night wasn't much fun, but what awaited us when morning broke and the paved roads turned to dirt and stone, well, what awaited us was pure vacation bliss. As a family of water lovers, we rented a lakefront cabin and towed our 16' Boston Whaler along, the same Boston Whaler whose motor I would wreck one afternoon on a rocky sand bar while fishing for walleyes. The same boat that I spent my Lake Geneva summers fishing out of, oblivious to the fact that 16 year old girls preferred Gordy's and Cobalts over Williams Bay and Boston Whalers. Yes, this humble body of water tucked away in the Minnesota north woods was the vacation destination of my youth.
On the surface, this lake was innocent enough. Relatively clear water, although downright dirty when compared to the pristine waters of my lake of choice, abundant fish, a reed covered shoreline, and large enough to allow for sufficient water based exploration. This was a fine lake indeed, creepy indian reservation on the North side of the lake aside. Fine until one fateful summer when I was swimming in the roped off swim area. The bottom there was sandy, and the water relatively clear. Clear enough in fact that I could see a leech swimming towards me. Swimming with Phelpsian speed. Like a snake on sand, this sidewinder wove towards me as I raced to shore, my arms and legs a fury of adrenaline fueled freestyle. The leech missed its intended target, and swam on in search of some other blood filled mammal willing to donate a little to its cause. This leech, green and brown with what appeared to be a discernable face, was at least 12 inches long. Probably 1 inch thick. Absolutely repulsive.
Leeches are everywhere, they're in north woods lakes of Michigan (gag), and golf course ponds in Schaumburg. They're even in the stream that ran through my grandma's farm fields in Princeton, Illinois, and they've had the audacity to even been attached to my own body. I hate fewer things more than I hate leeches (Michigan, you're a close #2). They're the stuff of nightmares for me, and the fear I have for them completely dictates which bodies of water I will swim in. I watch River Monsters on the Travel Channel (I think that's the channel), and enjoy that Brittish fellow as he travels the world in search of man eating fish. When he wades though the brown water of the Amazon, or slips off the shore into the Nile, I don't first think of piranah's or crocodiles, or the targeted monster fish. I don't think about the water born viruses and illness that surely awaits our fine crooked toothed English friend. No, I think about the leeches that must be present in that water. I think about the big, fat, pulsing leech that he probably just stepped on that will almost certainly turn it's wretched little mouth until it latches on to our red coated host. I just hate leeches, and moreover, I hate the water that is their home.
Maybe that's why I love Geneva so darn much. You could soak in the cleansing waters of my cherished lake for days on end, and no leech would ever find you. You could dangle your toes off a white pier on a warm July afternoon, and no blood sucking creature would stop by for a taste. See, Lake Geneva, moreso than any other lake I've ever been to, just doesn't harbor the leech. Maybe it's because leeches know better. They know when they're outclassed, and maybe that's why they stay away. Maybe the water is just too clear. Too fresh. Too pure. Maybe they know that their presence isn't desired, so they stay away as a courtesy.
Whatever the reason for their absence, I for one am most appreciative, and if you're a water lover like me, you should be as well.
No leeches - reason number 1,230,432 that Lake Geneva is the place for you.
