History was transformed and empires crumbled in the wake of these mythic waters.

When Helle fell into this sea, it took her name: Sea of Helle, or Hellespont. Jason sailed the Argo from here in search of the golden fleece the fleece itself had swathed the flying ram on which Princess Helle escaped from her wicked stepmother. Achilles and Hector fought to the death for this fluid corridor the Persian king Xerxes crossed it from Asia on a bridge of ships to invade the Greek settlements (after petulantly lashing the sea with whips when a storm destroyed his first attempt) Alexander the Great reversed direction to take them back. Hittites, Mycenaeans, Greeks, Persians, Romans, Ottomans, Genoese, Venetians, Byzantines, Turks: all have ruled here. These empty battlefields bracket centuries of conflicts over control of the waters that now buoy my body. Behind me rest the memorials to the men of both sides who died in the brutal Gallipoli campaign of World War I-the Swimmers’ War, it’s been called, for the innocents who bathed daily in the seas that soon ran red with their blood. Ahead of me, on the eastern shore, lie the ruins of Troy, site of the decade-long war recounted in Homer’s Iliad that first confirmed the horrors of battle, an epic fought 3,200 years ago. Historically, I am swimming at the threshold of what was once the known world. Geographically, I am moving from one continent to the other, a passage more sensibly traveled by boat or plane. This is the Hellespont, known today as the Dardanelles, the storied channel separating Europe from Asia in western Turkey. The water lifts me the land, another continent, seems distant.

I am trying to cut through a relentless cross-current with firm strokes of my own. THE SEA surrounds me, a warm expanse of regal blue with gentle waves that barely stipple the surface. With Swim, you can avoid that happening to you. Swimming enthusiast Lynn Sherr explores every aspect of the sport, from the biology of swimming to the fame of Esther Williams from turquoise pools and wild water to the training of Olympians and she reveals the secret of buoyancy so that anyone can avoid the example of the English poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, who lamented, “Why can’t I swim, it seems so very easy?” When his friend, the biographer Edward John Trelawny, said, “because you think you can’t,” Shelley plunged into Italy’s Arno River and dropped like a rock. You’ll even find a few songs to sing when you push out those next laps. It’s about our relationship with the water, with our fishy forebearers, and with the costumes that we wear. It’s a look at how swimming has changed over the millennia, how this ancient activity is becoming more social than solitary today. It’s an inquiry into why we swim - the lure, the hold, the timeless magic of being in the water. Swim is a celebration of swimming and the effect it has on our lives.

Swim by Lynn Sherr