Coupeville Sports

I didn’t want to get in the water, but my banana made me.

Penn Cove is never going to be mistaken for a jacuzzi.

And yet I keep going back, twice-a-day most days. 167 days in 2011 and tomorrow, Monday, Sept. 24 will mark 100 days in the salty, sorta-coolish water — all of them in only a swimsuit, because wet suits are for tourists and wusses.

Not that I see much of either one during my sojourns. I’ve had a few people come walking by on the rocky, mussel-and-barnacle-encrusted beaches, a handful of kayaks slide by in the water over the last two years and a couple of ever-present seals that sometimes shadow me.

Not once have I seen another person in the water in more than 500 trips down the Hill O’ Death in front of my house.

Sunny August afternoons or fog-enshrouded November mornings, it doesn’t matter. Either everyone is swimming in a different part of Penn Cove than me or I’m just an irrational idiot.

Yeah, probably the latter of the two.

But, at least I don’t have to worry about sharks, because, if my life-long obsession with movies has taught me anything, it’s that sharks only lurk where there’s a crowd of available people-sized snacks bobbing in the water.

Oh yeah, and they usually reserve their attacks for warm water, cause sharks ain’t idiots. Unlike some of us.