I was swimming in a lake over in Eastern Washington. It was murky like all lakes. It even had crawdads. (Ugly little fuckers.) But the crawdads obeyed the swimming zone cordoned areas. However one day I was out swimming. I dove down to the bottom of the lake (in the shallow swimming area) and on my way back to the surface I saw a fish swim under me. It scared the fucking piss out of me. I don't believe in segregation, but fishes need to stay the fuck out of my swimming area!
That said, at Martha Lake near Lynnwood,WA there was always fish. Baby fish. They'd swim up and nibble on your toes if you were quiet enough. They got bigger the further otu you went. I never minded those fish. In fact I used to catch the babies in a cup all the time (and then release them). At some point in my life I developed a fear of fish, though, and even thoguh I like looking at them I can't stand to touch them or be touched by them anymore. So no more fish-catching days.
But no, no. My biggest fear as far as water is concerned is tied: fear of lake grass (dunno what it's called but I am fucking TERRIFIED of it), and fear of water spanning beyond my visibility. You know what I'm talking about. Not just looking down into the murky depths (oh god that's scary), but also looking straight ahead. Even near the surface of the water, at some point there' no visibility. Anything that swims toward you from beyond that veil of refracted light appears as a dark, obscure shadow and grows bigger as it draws nearer and nearer.
And nearer.
And nearer.
And nearer.