Life with Wool: Dog Days, Wool Ways

It’s August, and the dog days of summer are officially here. It’s hot, my friends. Here in Maine, the temperature has even gone over 80 degrees Fahrenheit. For us, that’s like being dropped in the Sahara.

I always envy people who live in places where hot weather means a worry-free life in shorts and flipflops and strappy flowing dresses that flutter in the breeze. But in Downeast Maine, summer excursions into the great outdoors require a different kind of wardrobe—one that protects exposed flesh from hungry summertime creatures including humdrum mosquitoes, horse flies, deer flies, and any of 15 species of ticks, some of which could transmit such joyful maladies as Lyme disease, anaplasmosis, babesiosis, Powassan encephalitis, and hard tick relapsing fever.

That’s just from ticks, I didn’t even tell you what the mosquitoes might carry.

And so, while everyone else frolics through fields in their flowy dresses and flipflops, we’re advised to wear long-sleeve shirts buttoned all the way up to the neck, tucked into long pants, the legs of which are tucked into very attractive white socks, which, in turn, must be shoved into sturdy shoes. Those of us more prone to bug bites may also wear a hat over which is draped a mosquito net, which I lovingly call my mosquito helmet.

Any remaining exposed flesh must, of course, be slathered in sunscreen.

Finally, in a ritual that reminds me of Meg Ryan spraying her hear with Aquanet in When Harry Met Sally, we give ourselves a thorough dousing of bug spray before stepping outside.

Ahhh, nature!

If you’ve ever wondered why Maine isn’t considered a hotspot for summer fashion—and also, why we complain when it goes over 80—there’s your answer.

I didn’t mention the best part: Upon returning inside, we get to strip naked and play the “Is this a tick?” game with our nearest and dearest before throwing our clothes in the dryer for 10 minutes (to kill any ticks who might linger) and leaping into the shower for a vigorous scrub (ditto).

The only time it’s safe to strip down to the essentials is when heading out for a swim. And nothing cools you down like a dip in the Maine ocean. Our water is so cool that the National Weather Service has taken to issuing warnings on warm, sunny days, cautioning naïve visitors that the air may be warm but the ocean, she is not.

We’re experiencing an unusually high volume of jellyfish up and down the coast this year, something poetically described as a “bloom.”

So, once you ease yourself into the refreshing water, you get to keep an eye out for those. I’m used to the occasional jellyfish. But now we have a new resident to look out for: great white sharks, drawn up the coast by warming waters.

Yes, I know sharks don’t want to eat us. Humans don’t taste nearly as delicious as seals. One bite and that shark would spit out your leg and swim away, people tell me. In the United States, there are an average of only 16 shark attacks per year. Your odds of being mistaken for an entrée by a shark are one in many, many millions. I understand this as well.

But 16 is still more than zero. So whenever I go in for a dip now, I keep an eye out for seals, because where they go, the sharks might follow.

What, you ask, does any of this have to do with wool? Until now, nothing. That 10-minute tumble in the hot dryer prevents me from wearing very much wool when I go outside to play. But you know what doesn’t generally need a 10-minute tumble in a hot dryer after you wear it? Your bathing suit!

Just in time, the wool swimsuit I hinted at last month has finally arrived.

The shape is pleasantly functional, without any of the awkward slits or holes or strands that make you fiddle and fuss when you hope nobody’s watching. It has two layers of fabric, giving excellent coverage and UV protection.

Note: this is not Clara, nor is it Maine. Not certain about water temp. (photo from Simply Merino)

Weren’t those two layers hot? Well, here things get very interesting.

The moment I begin my slow, determined march into the shark and jellyfish-infested waters, the wool fibers spring into action. As my bathing suit absorb water, the wool fibers adsorb those water molecules, breaking down their hydrogen bonds so they can form new bonds with the wool. And as those bonds are broken down, they release energy in the form of heat.

Not electric blanket hot, but a warmth that is best described as… less-than-cold. I’ve dipped in these waters my whole life, and this is a new, subtle, and extremely welcome experience.

Finally, some of you asked how supportive the bathing suit is for those parts of our body that may regularly do battle with gravity. For me, the suit might not be suitable for a beach volleyball competition, but then again neither am I. For what I do and who generally has to see it, the bathing suit was fine.

Most important question: Did I get eaten by a shark? No.

At least not yet.