Lake Tahoe Otter Attack: What It Taught Me About Being Prepared for the Unexpected

August 30, 2026. Lake Tahoe. A swim I had done countless times. And an encounter I never could have imagined.

I have been swimming in Lake Tahoe for 25 years.

I know the water. I know the shoreline. I know how quickly the conditions can change. And I have always respected the lake for what it is: beautiful, powerful and unpredictable.

But I never expected to be attacked by a wild otter.

It started like any other swim.

On August 30, I entered Lake Tahoe at Hidden Beach in Incline Village and started swimming south along the shoreline toward Sand Harbor. It was a route I had taken countless times.

I was about three-quarters of a mile from Hidden Beach and was getting ready to turn around when, completely out of nowhere, I felt hands grab my leg.

Then I was pulled underwater.

For a split second, I genuinely thought a person had grabbed me. It was that strong.

I turned around and saw an otter.

And it immediately began attacking me.

My focus was on surviving and getting away from the otter.

I tried to swim away, but the otter followed me, scratching and biting at my legs and feet.

When it came toward my torso, I tried to push it away. Every time I did, it seemed to become even more aggressive.

I tried climbing onto rocks, but the granite was slippery and I lost my footing. I swam toward another rock, hoping to find a way out, while the otter continued attacking my legs.

When I finally reached the rock, I climbed up.

The otter climbed up after me.

At that point, I knew I couldn't simply put more distance between us in the water. I needed to get completely out of the water.

So I started climbing.

I made my way up large granite boulders until I was approximately 10 feet above the water. Eventually, the otter retreated back into the lake, although it continued circling the area while I tried to recover.

I wasn't getting back in.

I climbed farther up the rocks until I reached the East Shore bike trail. I climbed over the wooden split-rail fence and started walking barefoot the three-quarters of a mile back to Hidden Beach, where I had left my belongings.

Then came the medical treatment.

Someone who saw me on the bike trail stopped and called authorities.

By the time I reached Hidden Beach, representatives from the Washoe County Sheriff's Office, Incline Village Fire Department and local rangers were there to help, document the incident and assess my injuries.

I refused a ride to the hospital, as adrenaline was masking the extend of my injuries, so I drove myself to the Emergency Room in Reno, where I received rabies post-exposure treatment, a Tdap vaccine, antibiotics and 38 stitches.

The injuries were extensive. There were bites, scratches and significant bruising across my legs, arms, hands and feet.

Five days later, I was admitted to the hospital for emergency surgery after an otter bite on my hand became infected. I spent three days receiving IV antibiotics and am now completing a 20-day course of oral antibiotics.

I am home healing now.

I cannot get back in the water for several weeks while my wounds heal.

And honestly, after talking with another Lake Tahoe swimmer who was attacked by an otter at Pope Beach just weeks before my incident, I have a very different perspective on open-water swimming than I did before.

What this experience taught me about water safety

There is an interesting irony in all of this.

I spend my days teaching young children how to handle the unexpected in the water.

I'm a Certified Infant Swimming Resource instructor and the owner of ISR Reno-Tahoe. I teach babies, toddlers and young children the skills they need to respond if they unexpectedly end up in the water.

I never imagined I would experience an unexpected water emergency quite so personally.

But I believe my swimming ability mattered that day.

I was scared. I was being attacked. I was trying desperately to get away.

But I never had to simultaneously fight to stay afloat.

Because swimming is second nature to me, I could concentrate on getting away from the otter. I didn't panic and inhale water. I didn't become disoriented underwater. I was able to swim toward rocks and look for an exit.

My swimming ability saved my life.

And that has stayed with me.

You can't predict the water. You can prepare for it.

That's really the lesson I keep coming back to.

We can't predict everything that will happen around water.

We can't predict when a child will slip. When someone will fall in unexpectedly. When conditions will change. Or, apparently, when a wild animal will decide to turn an ordinary swim into something you'll never forget.

But we can prepare.

We can learn to swim.

We can teach our children water competency from an early age.

We can teach children what to do if they unexpectedly end up in the water.

And we can respect the fact that being around water always carries some level of risk, even when everything looks perfectly normal.

For young children, that preparation can begin with learning Self-Rescue skills.

That's why I teach ISR.

My goal isn't to make children afraid of water. Quite the opposite.

I want children to develop skills and confidence so that responding to an unexpected situation in the water becomes more instinctive.

Because water is unpredictable.

Skills don't eliminate risk. But skills can give you options when something unexpected happens.

I still love Lake Tahoe.

I know some people will read this story and wonder if I will ever swim in Lake Tahoe again.

I'm not sure yet.

Right now, I'm focused on healing.

I know that getting back into the lake will probably feel different. I also know that I will never look at an ordinary swim quite the same way again.

But I don't want fear to be the takeaway from this experience.

The takeaway for me is preparedness.

Respect the water. Understand the risks. Know your abilities. And make sure the people you love have the skills they need, too.

I can't control everything that happens in the water.

None of us can.

But I can control how prepared I am.

And I can help the next generation be prepared, too.

You can't predict the water. You can prepare for it.

That's a lesson I believed in before August 30.

Now, I know it personally.

See some of the media coverage of this Lake Tahoe Otter Attack here.