Bound to the Point

Tales of the Southside Pod swimmers

By S. NICOLE LANE

My clock says it’s a few minutes before 6 AM. I said I would arrive at 5:30 but I miscalculated my morning and now I’m late. It’s also cooler than I expected for a July morning. I dig for a sweater as I remember to also grab my mask. I walk along the cool grass of the park towards the south side of the Point, a man-made peninsula that curves into Lake Michigan in the Hyde Park neighborhood. The wind whips as I walk up to a group of seven to ten people all congregating on the rocks. A few dive in when I get there, and several already head toward the grey horizon. All I can see are their inflatable buoys shining pink, green, and yellow in the water. I know these people as the Point swimmers and I know them only from a distance.

I’ve called myself a “rock person” since moving to Chicago seven years ago. As someone who grew up along the beaches of the

Carolinas, I broke up with sand a long time ago. The rocks along the shoreline of the Point are special to the area as they tumble, fall, and change after every winter. They warm you after a chilly swim in the lake. They create the perfect diving board. Children, who seem to know the rocks like the backs of their hands, hop, skip, and jump along the giant limestone boulders.

I’ve been hanging out with fellow rock people every summer and consider myself a decent swimmer. Unsalted and vast, the lake is home to one of my most cherished therapeutic practices. Because of my proximity, I’ve always known about the Point swimmers. I’ll soon learn they also call themselves the Southside Pod, a pandemic and aquatic name that a few of them have printed on their swim caps in bubble letters. Two years ago when I joined the “Point Swimmers” Facebook page

I was introduced to the photography of David Travis, the early morning swimmers, and the folks who swim all year long.

Travis, a sailor and photographer, began taking photos along the lake of cyclists and runners on the lakeshore path a few years ago when a friend suggested he take photos of the swimmers. Ever since, he’s been capturing the athletes in the morning light. He sits on the rocks with the swimmers, watches their items as they dive in, takes the water temperature, and documents their swims.

“A lot of them are master swimmers,” says Travis to me as we sit on the rocks. He points out swimmers by name and tells me about their skills, where they are from, and how often they come out. “It’s the best place on the lake to swim,” he says, something I agree with, but the sound of the wind and waves causes my voice to drift and I’m unable to audibly