Floating motionless in the deep water of northern Italy’s exquisite Lago di Ledro in beating sun, I felt the contradictory sensation of simultaneous exertion and relaxation. My heart was thumping from the front crawl I’d just done, yet my mind basked in the beauty of this tree-lined valley and my brief, heavenly solitude.
I could pretend this was fortuitous, but in truth my dash to the centre of this little lake in the south of the Trentino region – at the exact midpoint of a three-week round trip from England to Italy by car – was premeditated. As a parent of two under-fives (at that moment happily distracted on shore), I had been visualising this for months: the revitalising lake swim alone was more or less justification for the 2,000-plus road miles. What I hadn’t pictured, however, were the swallows that would join me there, gracefully swooping within metres of my body, feeding out of reach from the hubbub at the lake’s circumference and – I like to think – out of earshot of their own young, chirruping in their nests.
