Plop. That is not the sound you want to hear when you are standing over or next to a body of water and you are holding valuables. Plop.
Plop.
Maren, Molly, Poppy and I all just stood there and stared at the ripples in the water, not believing what had just happened, looking over the railing into the water that is 5 feet below us, water that is stagnant and putrid.
A rush of emotions all at once hit us. We went from jolly to panicked in seconds. What were we going to do??? Poppy's bike can not be moved, we are far from home, and we don't have a spare key.
Poppy said she would go into the canal and fetch the key. Gross. Who knows how deep the water was, what was actually in there, and also we weren't really even sure where the key had sunk to. I told her I would go in. There was no way I would let Poppy or anyone else go in there. If it had to be someone, then it had to be me.
Off came my shoes. Then my socks. Up rolled my pants and I climbed over the rail and put my toes into the sludge. This was going to be awful. I held my breathe and stepped down.
The water was cold and all I felt was mud and rotting leaves. I put my feet a little deeper but I was not hitting the bottom. I had mud up to my knees and I was still sinking. Air bubbles engulfed my body and I had to find a way to stop sinking. I held onto the railing for dear life. This was going to be trickier than I thought. I needed some sort of plan.
There appeared to be a stone or concrete piling in the mud below Poppy's bike. I thought maybe I could stand on that because obviously what I was doing wasn't working. Maybe I could use that to plant myself on and then use one foot to feel around the muck. What seemed like a good plan really wasn't. I stepped onto the stone and then gradually placed my weight down and as I did this the stone just started sinking and never stopped. Here I am, hanging on for dear life and my legs covered in mud...what a sight to behold.
A middle aged woman walking by noticed us and asked in good English what happened and what was I doing in the disgusting canal. When we told her the a bike key had fallen into the canal below and the bike was still locked and I was trying to fetch it she simply chuckled. "If I was younger I would just pick the lock for you" she said, giving us the impression that A) this isn't the first time she had lost her own key and B) she is too old to steal bikes and C) we are on our own. We asked about local bikes shops but it being almost 5pm now they were all closed. She went on her way. "What about the police?" we asked her but she said they wouldn't be able to do much. We were out of ideas but I knew I at least needed to get out of this muck.
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