Second Challenge - Alcatraz Bay Swim

I'm not really sure how to describe this one so let's start with the bare fact and see where we go from there - I have successfully jumped in water at Alcatraz and swum back to San Francisco. Challenge completed.

Now to try and do it justice.

I met Gary at the entrance to Pier 39. And now, before even getting started, I am going straight off at a tangent. It is apparent that this year I am going to meet some incredible people (see the bit about team Revolution after Tough Guy to show that) and Gary is definitely in that category. Here is somebody who has swum the Bay 519 times and has guided many others through it. It would be easy for him to be jaded and yet, beforehand any questions I had were answered, any concerns were reassured and any doubts assuaged. Then, afterwards, as I jabbered on about things he has doubtless heard and experienced many times he listened and responded as though I was the first. I don't think I quite managed to express to him how grateful I am for his guidance.

So, anyway, I met Gary, boarded the guide boat and headed for Alcatraz (you jump in from the boat, not the Rock itself). I put on my wetsuit and before I could think about it jumped in. The water was murky and cold but neither was worse than Bognor Regis. My training looked like it had done the trick. I started swimming. I swam quickly at the start to try to warm up. I was also focussing on trying to keep a good technique. Within maybe 3 minutes I was exhausted and all hope of using a proper stroke vanished. I started breathing to my left side only because I needed to take in more oxygen and the waves were making breathing to my right too awkward. My shoulders started to ache. The boat was less than 10 metres from me and I thought how easy it would be to head over and give up. I force myself to keep swimming convinced that, I will hit a rhythm, my mind will wander and the distance will then vanish. Wrong. In the whole time I had four main thoughts depending on the most recent wave to hit me. It was either "I will do this", "I can't do this", "I have to do this" or "I wish I wasn't doing this". I told myself there was no more than 10 minutes left over and over (I was guessing) but if I looked behind me Alcatraz seemed no smaller and on the rare moments I looked ahead San Francisco seemed no nearer. I gave up looking ahead and focused on the boat beside me and tried to use it as guidance. This may have been a mistake in that he was also following me and together we managed to drift closer to the Golden Gate Bridge than anticipated, making the swim longer - I suspect that if I'd felt capable of looking right the view would have been quite impressive.

The waves varied from bearable to overwhelming. I tried to develop a technique with the roughest ones of slowing my stroke and using the buoyancy of the wetsuit to ride them - this was not always successful and if the timing was very wrong I would find myself gagging on salt water. The cold kicked in - I think maybe I was too numb to appreciate it as a physical sensation but at some point (I can't pinpoint time or distance markers, they were irrelevant) I discovered that my hands were frozen into a talon like grasp offering very little momentum through the water.

I kept swimming, or to bastardise a line from Toy Story, drowning with style.

I could see the area behind the guide boat was increasingly filled with an image of the city. This was a great moment because it meant I was getting closer and, in the glorious sunshine, I was distracted from my exertions by a view of the San Francisco skyline that not many get to witness.

Some 65 minutes later I half stumble/half crawl onto a beach, well down current from my target end point. I get out of the water dizzy like a child who is seeing how often it can spin before it falls over. A dog ran towards me - in my confused state I felt this was a gesture of its understanding what I had been through - mad dogs and Englishmen - in truth I probably just smelt odd. But I had made it. I was elated and then realised I had to swim back to the boat some 20 metres away. Adrenalin got me through that and we headed back to the pier. Gary let me use the facilities at his nearby club and I had my first hot shower in weeks. He congratulated me, gave me a book he has written on the swim and, I found out later, a swim cap (mine fell off in the water).

And that is pretty much it. I apparently swam 2.5 miles. To put the strength of the tide that carried me ever closer to the Golden Gate Bridge into perspective I would expect that distance to take at least 85 minutes in the pool.

And was it worth it. Undoubtedly, I have images and memories that I will never forget. Over the next few days I saw Alcatraz from various perspectives, none as remarkable as from in the water. I can understand how people fall in love with it and keep going back but maybe I am speaking from a hindsight made comfortably hazy by warm showers and working hands.