Seven Swims in the Ancient Seven Seas

Seven Swims in the Ancient Seven Seas
April 2022 - August 2023

David Rich, Life Member, Dolphin Club (33 years)

In 2019, the World Open Water Swimming Association (WOWSA) nominated David Rich for the “Offering of the Year Award” to honor his marathon swimming concept: The Ancient Seven Seas. Various cultures at different times have referred to bodies of water along trade routes as The Seven Seas.  The notion entered Western consciousness from Greek literature mostly centered around Mediterranean waters.  David’s choice of seas and track record of marathon swims in these waters includes:

●     10 km in the Arabian Sea: Ras Al Hamra, Oman, April 8, 2022 in 3 hours, 17 minutes

●     10 km in the Red Sea, Hurghada, Egypt, April 16, 2022 in 2022 in 2 hours, 56 minutes

●     10 km in the Mediterranean Sea - Majorca, Spain, June 2, 2022 in 3 hours, 2 minutes

●     11 km in the Adriatic Sea, Split, Croatia, 26 May 2023 in 2 hours, 43 minutes

●     10 km in the Black Sea, Kilyos, Turkey, 1 June 2023 in 2 hours, 42 minutes

●     10 km in the Aegean Sea, Rhodes, Greece, 11 July 2023 in 3 hours, 29 minutes

●     14 km in the North Sea, Deal, England, 26 August 2023 in 2 hours, 47 minutes

David provides the following description of his exploits:

Over the past 30 years, I’ve been interested in doing open water swims as much for the adventure and historical context of the swim locations as for the challenge of an endurance swim. I’ve been drawn to pioneering or exploring new swim challenges around the world before they are widely known. For example, I swam across the Dardanelles Strait in Turkey that separates Europe from Asia in 1993 before cross-continental swims became international events. The same for the Strait of Gibraltar which connects Europe (Spain) and Africa (Morocco) which I swam in 2005.

It was at the Dolphin Club over 25 years ago that the idea of the Seven Seas swim came to me. People sailed the Seven Seas, why not swim them?  It would be a series of adventures to many parts of the world to experience new cultures, people, and seas. I did research on the seven seas and found a rich history, but had to file it away. Living in San Francisco at the time made the distance and cost to reach these destinations, which are located in Europe and the Middle East, unrealistic at the time.

The inspiration for this project came from Lewis Pugh, the British environmental campaigner and ultra-marathon swimmer. In August 2014, he created and completed the WOWSA-recognized project “Seven Swims In The Seven Seas For 1 Reason” to bring awareness to the need for ocean conservation and marine-protected areas around the world.

I met Lewis in 2019 and after a discussion about his Seven Seas swim, I proposed it as a new marathon swim challenge which the World Open Water Swimming Association recognized in 2019. I thought a swim challenge of more obtainable distances (10km marathons) as an alternative to the ultra-marathon distances (30-40km+) of the existing Oceans Seven campaign would appeal to a broader range of people.

With a move to London in 2020, I was within geographic reach of the seven seas and the opportunity to achieve my swimming goal. After the world came out of Covid, I realized it was now or never, so I jumped on the challenge starting in April 2022.

I faced three major hurdles throughout this 16-month journey.

While these swims were marathon swim distances of 10km and required training, logistics was the biggest obstacle I had to overcome! Traveling to 7 countries in the Middle East, Europe, and the UK over 5 separate trips in 16 months required a lot of planning across flights, hotels, and swim locations.  I also needed to accommodate my work schedule as a marketing executive for a global technology company.

Second, this challenge took me to seas where there were no governing swimming organizations.  A good example is the Channel Swimming Association which provides a wide range of information and support for those who want to cross the English Channel. While Lewis shared some helpful insights, I was largely on my own to select a location in the sea for each swim; find a boat, captain, and crew; and to chart a course based on currents and tides in each country. This was trial and error, and I optimized my planning and approach as this journey went along. I reached out to swimmers for advice through online swimming forums and networks, which yielded some helpful support, but information was still limited since these were new solo swims.

The last challenge was communications. English was not the first language for most of these boat captains or crew, and they had never piloted a long-distance swimmer before. It took a little time to explain that I didn’t want to rent their boat to fish, scuba dive or snorkel, but simply swim for over 3 hours alongside it. When they got the concept of the Seven Seas swims, the captains and crew were excited to support my goal. At times, it felt like a comedy as we attempted to speak in broken sentences and hand gestures while pointing at images of coastal maps on my phone to determine where to swim and the direction of the current. We didn’t always get this right. What follows are my notes on some of these adventures.

Oman - the Arabian Sea - the first of the seven swims

A British swimmer living in Oman, [dr1] who responded to my request for information through an online swim forum, suggested we start 2 miles offshore from Al Fahal island, swim toward land and then south along the coast. My Omani captain and Pakistani crew member understood those directions after pointing to the island on a map on my phone and then waving my arms south. Beyond that, they had little ability to aid me as a distance swimmer. I was glad the captain waited until after I finished the swim to tell me that Al Fahal island where I started the 10k is also called Shark Island, for a reason

My wife, who was my support on each swim, enjoyed discussing with the crew their daily lives as fishermen and boat pilots in Oman. In fact, this was the best part of these swims for Noelle as she struck up conversations with each crew to learn about local customs and life in each country. After the swim, the proud Omani captain motored us past his little coastal village to show us his rustic house by the shore where he and his wife and 8 kids lived.

Egypt - the Red Sea

This swim was like a comedy on the Red Sea. Originally, I signed up for a 10km race in the Red Sea to give me a break from the logistics and planning. The night before the race, I learned it consisted of swimming laps in a small cove near the hotel. I thought there’s no way I’ve come all this way to Egypt to not swim out over the famous coral reefs and sea life in the Red Sea. So, I scrambled with the help of the hotel manager to find a marina that could rent me a boat with a captain. The next morning, we went to the marina at 8AM ready to go, only to learn that things move at a different pace in Hurghada, Egypt. The first boat they offered me the night before, had engine trouble and would not be available. The second boat they offered could accommodate 40 people and was far too big. The third boat was a small rib-style boat that was just right, and finally a few hours later, we were off.

The blue waters felt magical, and were incredibly clear with colorful coral reefs, and underwater caves and vistas. There was a variety of marine life and at one point a pod of dolphins escorted me for about 10 minutes. The water was quite warm at 78F.

Two hours into the swim, the engine of the third boat stopped working. A fourth boat was called to come out and fix the engine. At that point, the captain told me just to keep swimming and that they would catch up to me when the engine was fixed. With no estimate of when that would be, and no swim float for safety on the vast Red Sea, I chose the rational solution and tread water nearby.

 The best moment was floating next to the boat and fully appreciating that I was swimming in the Red Sea, the cradle of ancient civilization and religion. All the while, three men frantically worked to fix the engine. It also dawned on me that Ramadan, Easter, and Passover were being celebrated on that same day, just as they had for thousands of years in that part of the world.

Black Sea - Turkey
I put this swim off for a year due to the war in Ukraine.  Though I was going to swim my 10k course about 200 miles south of the fighting, the conflict loomed in my mind. I dedicated that swim to the people of Ukraine.

This swim was an example of meeting local people and swimmers along the way who shared the same passion for endurance swims in the sea.  It was difficult to find a boat, captain, and location within an hour of Istanbul where we were staying. I was able to get an online introduction from a swimmer on the island of Mauritius who knew a swimmer in Istanbul who might be able to help me.

Sure enough, the Turkish swimmer, Kamil, was not only an accomplished long-distance swimmer (first Turk to complete the Triple Crown), but a swim organizer. He coordinated the boat, captain, and swim course off the north coast of Turkey, and then hosted me and my wife for a wonderful Turkish breakfast overlooking the Black Sea after the swim. These connections along the journey resulted in new friends and fun memories that made this whole endeavor special.

Aegean Sea - Rhodes, Greece

This was by far the most torturous of the swims, not only due to the windy conditions and strong currents, but also because the raging winds of 25-30 knots pushed my swim out 3 days in a row. With one day left on Rhodes, I changed my plane home to London to get one more attempt to swim.

The day of the swim started with mild winds at 7-9 knots an hour, and some rolling swells, but the forecast called for the winds to die down as the morning went along, so I jumped in and took off. As I passed the ancient Greek acropolis from 280 B.C. high on the cliff outside the town of Lindos, I was once again reminded of the historic context that makes the Ancient Seven Seas so unique.

Over the first 2 hours it became clear that things had become worse instead of better. Violent conditions had moved in and we found ourselves in 6-7 foot swells with large white caps breaking, and howling wind. It was the first time in a solo swim that I was more concerned about the crew in the boat than myself. I could see the small boat bouncing off the waves and knew it was tough for them to safely stay near me without getting swamped by waves. It was at that point, as well, that my son, Dillon, called out that I had been swimming in place for the last 20 minutes. The current had apparently changed course and was now heading straight into the wind creating major turbulence. The skipper’s boss was on the radio and wanted us to abort the swim and come back as he thought the conditions were too dangerous. Noelle intervened, knowing that this was my last shot to complete the swim, and convinced the skipper to stay out there with me.

After a few minutes of yelling across the waves and wind, we agreed to turn and head directly to the coast where there was a series of small islands that might provide some break from the wind. We banged our way through the waves and eventually got to a semi-sheltered section of the coast. By this time, the rough conditions had taken a toll on me, but I got through the final hour and a half to complete the Aegean swim in 3 hours and 29 minutes.

It was 1PM and we had a flight home to London scheduled to leave in a few hours. We quickly motored back to shore, said our goodbyes, and jumped in the car for the hour drive back to the hotel. We collected our luggage, raced the rental back to the airport and jumped on a plane to London. When we arrived home around 11PM, rather than celebrate the completion of the Ancient Seven Seas, we went straight to bed!”

The WOWSA Offering of the Year nomination reads, “The Oceans Seven is a difficult challenge that has attracted some of the world's foremost channel swimmers - only 18 have completed it to date. A new swim challenge, the Ancient Seven Seas offers a similar global concept with the goal of inspiring and expanding participation through more accessible marathon swims. At a minimum of 10 kilometers in each of the Ancient Seven Seas (Mediterranean Sea, Adriatic Sea, Aegean Sea, Black Sea, Red Sea, Arabian Sea, and North Sea), this unassisted solo challenge takes swimmers through the cradle of civilization with different cultures, religions, and views. Swimmers can select and create their own preferred courses in the Seven Seas and do not necessarily need to be shore-to-shore or point-to-point. For building bridges with other cultures while interacting around a common love of the oceans and swimming; for creating a serious yet accessible marathon adventure, in terms of time and training, that enables more swimmers to participate; and for advancing the long history and concept of the Seven Seas, The Ancient Seven Seas challenge proposed by David Rich is a worthy nominee for the 2019 World Open Water Swimming Offering of the Year.”

Pending ratification by the World Open Water Swimming Association (WOWSA), David Rich will become the first American, and second swimmer after Lewis Pugh, to have completed the Ancient Seven Seas.

Syncope or Hypothermia?

     We Dolphins tend to call all physical distress related to cold water swimming "hypothermia."  Hypothermia is the condition of having an abnormally low body temperature.  It is characterized by shivering, slurred speech, fumbling hands, and confusion.  According to the Mayo Clinic, "Shivering is likely the first thing you'll notice as the body temperature starts to drop because it's your body's automatic defense against cold temperature--an attempt to warm itself."  In contrast, syncope (sink' o pee) is a medical term for loss of consciousness for a short period of time.  In its most severe incarnation, the person will collapse and fall.

    This happens to Dolphins from time to time.  A brutal post-swim episode is the recent collapse of Joe Illick.  Daniel Handler describes it this way.  "When I came down to swim Joe was climbing up the short staircase from the beach and he looked in a bad way.  He moved slowly and awkwardly as if in a daze, and his facial expression looked like he was searching for something.  A woman at the deck showers immediately thought something was wrong and asked him if he was OK.  He said yes, faintly and unconvincingly.  I said hello to him and he said hello to me--in a way that felt more like social instinct than really being aware, although he did use my name.  Then he started to tilt and you could see his entire body didn't know what to do.  He grabbed wrongly, he turned around and then seemed to change his mind--it was all a mess of limbs and slow decisions.  And then he fell, the worst way he could have.  Something was wrong when he got out of the water, and there was no time to make it right."

     Recently, it also happened to accomplished marathon swimmer Catherine Breed.  She had just returned from an international trip and went for a "shake-out" swim for about 25 minutes.  Recounting her experience, she says "When I got into the shower, I started feeling very heavy and dizzy.  I sat down on a chair for a bit in the shower and thought, 'I need to get myself into the sauna and lay down because I'm about to pass out.'  When I walked into the sauna, I felt very dizzy and said to the women there, 'I don't feel well' and that's all I remember until I woke up on the ground."  The paramedics measured her blood pressure at 80/40 in the ambulance about 15 minutes after the syncope.  She swam the next day with no problems and has returned to her full athletic schedule.

     The loss of consciousness doesn't necessarily always lead to a complete collapse.  This happened to Andy Greer when he returned to the water after a long layoff.  He was sitting in the sauna when he started feeling "really hot" and moved to the lower bench.  At this point, he began to lose his eyesight and wound up sitting immobile on the lower bench in an unresponsive stupor.  Bobby Tandler noticed Andy's distress and waved a hand vigorously inches from his face without a reaction.  When told the name, Bobby began shouting, "ANDY!! ANDY!" at which point Andy said in a vague, distracted way, "I can hear!"  But he still couldn't see.  Given a drink of warm tea, he almost immediately smiled and said, "I can see now!"  Although he recovered, he went home and stayed on the couch the rest of the day feeling ill.  Now, he only stays on the lower deck of the sauna for five minutes and then leaves, dons warm clothes, sits by the heater in the Staib room and suffers no ill effects other than missing the camaraderie and myriad "true facts" of the sauna.

     Syncope doesn't always happen on dry land.  Naphtali Offen was completing a long training swim outside the cove. When he got to the Opening, his pilot, Adam Goldberg, noticed that he was moving his arms but going nowhere.  He was bobbing almost vertically in the water.  The pilots in a motorized craft pulled Hal into the boat and brought him to shore.  Adam helped him up the stairs and into the sauna.  The first thing he remembers is five or six men coming up to him in the shower afterwards and asking him how he was feeling.  He told them all that he felt fine and as they left, he puzzled over their solicitude.  Then Adam came to him and said, "You do know you were pulled, don't you?"  Naphtali indignantly refused to believe this until Adam said, "Let me ask you this.  Do you remember getting to shore?"  The answer, of course, was "Noooo?!!"

     Duke Dahlin was taking a lesson when he was training for the Manhattan Island Marathon Swim.  The swim lesson involved stopping periodically and treading water to listen to the instructor's suggestions.  When the lesson was over, Duke decided to swim once more to the flag even though his instincts told him it was too much.  He walked up the stairs under his own power, waving at people, went to the shower and collapsed.  When the paramedics arrived, they immediately took him out of the sauna.  In the ambulance, they told him that he was dehydrated and administered an IV drip.  Since then, Duke has paid closer attention to his instincts and avoided any subsequent episodes.

      In the preceding examples, the syncope was unaccompanied by shivering.  In fact, swimmers regularly reported starting to feel much better when they eventually did begin to tremble.  This is consistent with a case report entitled "Near-syncope after swimming in cold water."  Lead author and Dolphin Club member Dr. Tom Nuckton reports that the 60 year-old swimmer in the case study did not have signs of clinically-related hypothermia when brought to the sauna after swimming and sinking to the floor.  "Clinical improvement was noted when the patient started shivering after being removed from the sauna and all symptoms resolved after the administration of 1 liter of normal saline."  The case report concludes "Careful consideration should be given to the differential diagnosis [between hypothermia and syncope] in all cases.  Depending on the presentation, the priority of treatment may be the correction of volume depletion and orthostatic hypotension rather than active rewarming."  

     It's easy to determine what causes hypothermia:  swimming in cold water.  Getting warm by using the sauna, using the shower, exercising, wearing warm clothes (or some combination) reliably treats the symptoms.  Syncope, on the other hand, has a very long list of potential causes.  In his case report, Dr. Nuckton puts it this way.  "While we speculate that orthostatic hypotension is a common etiology of syncope and near-syncope after swimming in cold water, other causes must be considered.  Dysrhythmias, including those related to long QT syndrome, have been associated with swimming and other forms of exercise.  Myocardial infarction, structural heart disease, vasovagal syncope, cold urticaria or anaphylaxis, and other possibilities should be considered."  Medical tests such as ECG are the most dependable way to rule out the more serious causes that could indicate underlying, persistent health problems.  And drinking water, or tea, or Gatorade will not necessarily treat a severe case of dehydration and/or hypovolemia (decreased volume of circulating blood).  Administering a liter of IV normal saline did the trick immediately for Duke and the patient in the case report.

     Of course, these interventions require a trip to the hospital and some people will adamantly resist "the ride" in the ambulance.  Many Dolphins are quite independent and strong-willed.  For some, the ride is too embarrassing and expensive--not to mention the hassle of getting back to the parked car and possible parking fees.  However, many physicians will tell you that no amount of bravado is worth missing a serious underlying issue.  Additionally, it's very much worth noting that if the distressed person is not shivering, getting them to the sauna or shower may not be wisest approach.  It could easily be that letting the person rest until the body's automatic defenses decide to kick in could, counter-intuitively, be the best practice--whether or not you call 911.

Somebody Call Guiness

107 billion human beings have lived on the planet Earth.  It would take a pretty extraordinary individual to be the one person to have ever accomplished a particular feat.  And it would have to be a pretty extraordinary feat.  Guiness World Records should know about this.  The feat that I have in mind is swimming more than 3,000 miles in San Francisco Bay during winter in nothing more than a swimsuit, swim hat, and goggles.  This means walking into Bay water from December 21 until March 21 and swimming mile after mile, day after day, and year after year when the temperature is as cold as 47 degrees and almost never warmer than 53 degrees Fahrenheit.  Laura Merkl is the solitary human to have done this.

Laura Merkl

Seeking a provocation to get other members to swim with him in the winter, Dolphin Bill Powning invented "The Polar Bear Challenge" in 1974.  Use of wetsuits is prohibited. Since its inception, members of the Dolphin Swimming and Boating Club of San Francisco have tracked the number of miles they swim in the Bay during the coldest 90 day period of the year.  Earning a "polar bear" has meant recognition with a gift of a three-quarter inch block of white marble inscribed with the number of miles swum that season.  Perversely, this trinket is not distributed until the November awards dinner.  The memento provides a timely reminder to participants of their previous winter accomplishment and tacitly encourages them to tackle one more frigid campaign.  It also provides a permanent record of the miles Laura accumulated during 34 consecutive Polar Bear seasons.

Laura Merkl graduated college with a degree in physical education and swam at a recreational level.  After a couple of years working in the phys ed field, she switched to a career in accounting.  The downside of this move was a sedentary day at a desk job so she joined the YMCA to swim with their masters program.  She met Laurie Weiner there and they began participating in open water swims at places like Lake Berryessa.  Soon, they left the pool behind and were swimming from the beach at Aquatic Park on a regular basis.  When Laurie joined the Dolphin Club, Laura followed in December of 1984 very much looking forward to the opportunity to swim from Alcatraz.  Although she swam through the winter, for the first couple of years of membership Laura remained unmindful of the Polar Bear mileage charts festooning the entry to the Dolphin Club.  Then, in the 1986-1987 season, she decided to partake.  Since she was living nearby the club and working downtown, she felt like the 40 miles required at the time for a marble block was insufficient and thought, "100 sounds good."  Sure enough, slightly more than 120 miles later, Laura had earned her first Polar Bear.

Laura's Polar Bear Stack

Then in the winter of 1993-1994, she was again on target for more than 100 miles.  When she attended the Old Timers dinner in February, Dolphins asked her about her aspirations to be the Polar Bear champion that season.  She said, "I don't know what that is."  Her friends excitedly told her, "Well, there's the Polar Bear and then there's the Polar Bear CHAMP!  You could be the CHAMP!"  Alerted to this possibility, Laura quickly learned that no woman had ever before been the Polar Bear champion.  She says, "I've never felt any negative being female at the club," but the idea of being the first woman champion held substantial appeal.

She and fellow member George Kebbe were closely matched in swimming speed and had developed a friendly and competitive relationship in the club-sponsored events.  As it turned out, George also had his eye on the Polar Bear championship.  In order to win the Polar Bear Laura had to swim more miles that winter than George and more winter miles than she ever had swum before.  Club members avidly monitored the race in slow motion, regularly checking the mileage log in the foyer as she and George spurred each other along through the remaining weeks of the Polar Bear. Their colored squares leapfrogged one another in a simulacrum of a fiercely contested Olympic event.  Laura had plenty of support.  Women would regularly find her almost sleeping in the sauna and bring her strong coffee.  Stan Hlynsky, president of the club the year before, would leave voicemails on her office phone with words of encouragement including advice to "eat more."  And eat she did.  She had recently started a new job and three bagels for a morning snack were common.  Her gobsmacked co-workers were left marveling at where she put all this food on her lean frame.  By March 21, 1994, her determination had produced 174 miles and the first woman's name to adorn the Polar Bear Champion plaque.

Champion Plaque

The next winter Laura cruised to a leisurely 101 miles.  Then she moved to San Carlos and took a job in San Jose leaving herself a daily commute of over 100 miles if she wanted to keep up her string of Polar Bears.  In the next four seasons, she swam 50, 78, 80, and 75 miles; admittedly short of 100, but still a mind-boggling display of discipline.  In the winter of 1999-2000, her commute dramatically reduced, she swam 150 miles and tied with Scott Haskins to once again affix her name to the championship trophy.

For the next six years, she posted 100 miles or more.  Then came a five year stretch during which her South Bay commute resumed and she could only manage to chart mileage in the 80's and 90's.  In the 2011-2012 season, the scourge of extreme athletes struck and she finished with a measly 68 miles and severe shoulder pain.  Of course, she postponed the necessary rotator cuff surgery until after the Polar Bear was over.

As she recovered from surgery and pondered her goals for the coming year, her accounting instincts kicked in and she realized that she had accumulated more than 2,600 winter miles in the Bay.  It occurred to her that people bike 3,000 miles across the U.S.  They hike 3,000 miles across the U.S.  No one can swim 3,000 miles across the U.S.  But isn't 3,000 a good number for Polar Bear attainment?  By March 21, 2017, she had racked up 3,035.75 miles.  She now has over 3,200 miles in her wake and has not formulated another goal beyond, "keep it up."  Guiness needs to know about this.

Five Coves of Death

Depiction of Battle of Puebla

On May 5, 1862, a seriously out-manned and out-gunned Mexican army soundly defeated the French army at the Battle of Puebla.  While not much celebrated in Mexico, the fifth of May is a big deal in the United States based partially on the mistaken notion that this is the day of Mexican Independence from Spain. In fact, many modern day Mexicans deplore the devolution of the occasion into an excuse for drunken debauchery and promotion of derogatory Mexican stereotypes. Accentuating this irony in 2005, the U.S. Congress ordered the President of the United States to observe Cinco de Mayo with appropriate ceremonies and activities.  While the representatives supporting this resolution spoke passionately of the desire to celebrate Mexican-American "culture, music, food, and customs," at least no one specifically mentioned tequila.

Decades before Congress got into the act, Bill Horgos, a member of some notoriety of first the Dolphin and then the South End clubs, suggested a swimming tribute to the fifth of May. He designed and promoted the aptly named “Five Coves of Death” swim.

The swim begins at the clubs’ beach in Aquatic Park. The clockwise option will take the swimmer to the Flag and then to the Goal Posts. Nothing much death-defying about that. From here, though, the course threads under the length of the Muni Pier, a thin, barnacle and starfish-encrusted pathway between concrete and creosote posts. It continues under the Roundhouse and past the jagged pilings out to the Opening. The swimmer then navigates the surging current squishing in and out through the thin gap at the Jacuzzi. From here, the course takes the swimmer behind the Balclutha, swimming over and under scratchy, barely submerged lines and hoses draped from boat to shore. Swimming behind the Thayer presents a similar and slightly more confining challenge. Emerging from behind the Thayer, the swimmer has a short distance to reach the South End pier. Downing an optional shot of tequila at the pier completes one “Cove of Death.”  Popularity of this option seems to have diminished over the years, having been replaced with non-alcoholic hydration and complex carbohydrates.

Passage Behind Thayer

The official start time for this swim is 5:05 pm.  Aspirants whose schedule can't accommodate the afternoon jump-off will start their swim at 5:05 am to maintain the appropriate measure of poetic symmetry.  However, it's the late afternoon start that garners the most support in terms of pilots, dock workers and boosters.  As usual, dinner is waiting for all 55 participants, 34 of whom will complete all five loops this year.  After 2 1/2 hours of swimming in cold, bumpy water even the swimmers who opted to simply swim close to, rather than under Muni Pier have definitely earned the calorie-laden repast.


Recently, the Five Coves of Death has served as a qualifying swim for the Bay to Breakers swim.  Consequently, several yellow-capped individuals who couldn't manage a mid-week swim were circling Aquatic Park Cove Saturday and Sunday.  Forced to weave through the weekend crowd of wet-suited swimmers, these folks soldiered through the course essentially unwatched, unloved, and unfed.  These people must have a high need to swim the Bay to Breakers.


Perhaps the award for "Most Obsessive" must go to Kimberly Chambers and her companion.  They finished their first Five Coves of Death Tuesday morning at 7:30 am.  Emerging from the water looking radiant, they cheerfully informed observers of their plan to return and repeat the course at 5:05 pm.  While not unprecedented, this is highly unusual.  What is even more unusual is that Kimberly's companion wore no swim cap whatsoever for the occasion.  One would imagine that these two scooped up double helpings of food at the buffet that night.

2015 NYD Alcatraz

Alcatraz Viewed from Northwest

At 5:30am on New Year's Day in San Francisco, the traffic is sparse and the walk through Aquatic Park is dark and quiet.  Shattered bottles strewn in profusion across the landscape testify to the revelry the night before, but no revelers are awake to provide any details.  As if it were suffering a massive hangover, the City seems almost comatose.  Opening the door to the Dolphin Club, the contrast is stark and startling.  Lights are blazing from every fixture and the hubbub and press of over a hundred milling bodies gives the feeling of having popped through Alice's looking glass.  The crowd has assembled for the yearly swim on January 1st from Alcatraz island to Aquatic Park and the atmosphere crackles with excitement, fear, and anticipation.

Two clubs split organizational responsibilities for two annual joint events.  The SouthEnd Rowing Club manages the NYD Alcatraz swim.  The Dolphin Club oversees the more logistically challenging Escape from Alcatraz triathlon.  This year, the SouthEnd planners have segregated the NYD registration.  Dolphins register at the Dolphin Club and bare their right arms for the black magic marker that brands each swimmer with a consecutive number prefixed with a "1".  This extra digit distinguishes us from SouthEnders.  Swimmers from the adjacent club have their left shoulders marked sequentially without the preceding numeral.  Check-in at the finish line will also be segregated.  With the SouthEnd dock on the returning swimmers' left and the Dolphin dock on the swimmers' right, the alternate shoulder markings will expedite the job for the timers and recorders from each club.

A freelance photographer, various large cameras slung about his neck, has tracked down Diane Walton on her last day as president of the Dolphin Club.  Reuters news service dispatched him to get pictures of the New Year's Day Alcatraz swim and Diane asks me to provide guide service.  We exchange pleasantries on the dark, cold deck at the back of the club as people shuffle about preparing pilot craft; wishing loved ones well; or just huddling against the freezing wind piping out of the east-northeast.  The photographer and I agree that when we reach the boat to take swimmers to the island, we'll just see if he can meld into the crowd and board with us.

The separated registrations naturally cause members of the two clubs to congregate apart until time to go next door for the swim briefing at 6:30a. As we begin trooping to the front exit, word filters back that the door at the SouthEnd is locked and untended.  This gives me a chance to show our guest a walkway between the two clubs that winds up narrow stairs to a passageway overlooking the three handball courts.  On the SouthEnd side of the walkway we descend an even narrower and steeper staircase evoking comparison to the Winchester Mystery House.  We take our place beside a 4-oared barge under construction gaining an unobstructed view of the briefing station.  For the first time, I see my companion snap a few photographs.

Lovely Martha

The SouthEnd swim director begins the briefing instructing 49 Dolphins to board the Lovely Martha and 49 SouthEnders to board the Silver Fox, both docked along Jefferson Street in the Fisherman's Wharf.  The dozen or so remaining swimmers will catch a ride to the island in one of the motorized inflatable craft.  With a few more general instructions, he turns the briefing over to Gary Emich for course information.  Gary has personally logged over 1,000 swims to and from Alcatraz and he operates a commercial piloting service for private swims.  He speaks with great authority and says that although high winds had forced a cancellation of the test swim the previous day, his experience in similar conditions indicates the ebb tide will kick in about halfway across the channel.  He recommends that the fastest swimmers aim for the sailing ship Balclutha and that "mere mortals" aim farther east for the Jeremiah O'Brien and the "creakers."  The basic principle is to avoid being caught west of the "opening" and having to fight a building ebb to get to shore.  Because this day coincides with a massive "king tide" the currents at their maximum will stymy even the most powerful swimmers.

Briefing over, we file out of the clubhouse.  The photographer skips ahead down Jefferson Street snapping away.  Boarding the Lovely Martha with the other Dolphins, we meet no challenge to his presence verifying that our strategy of asking forgiveness rather than seeking permission is paying off.  The captain is driving from his station below so we have the flying bridge to ourselves, giving the photographer a superb vantage point to ply his craft.  The rising sun gradually mutates the clear, cloudless sky through a spectrum from midnight to navy--ultimately displaying the cityscape behind Fisherman's Wharf on a canvas of imperial blue.

Before Lovely Martha leaves the dock Dolphin swim commissioner, John Nogue, begins a roll call.  Although rare, it happens that swimmers disappear between the club and the water taxi.  Broken glass, familial entreaties, or just a general change of heart can bring someone to their senses and a u-turn.  If the individual, through embarrassment or laxity, fails to notify one of the event authorities, pandemonium eventually erupts when it appears that a swimmer has gone missing in the Bay.  By the time all Dolphins have answered to their name, the SouthEnders in the neighboring boat are in full snort.  In parody, their swim leader shouts out, "Roll Call! .... Is everybody here?"  Upon receiving the cackling responses of "present," "here," and "sober" he hollers, "Is anybody not here?"  No response.  He then merrily announces, "Then let's swim!"

The two boats cast off and slowly motor out of the wharf.  As the gas dock slides by, the Reuters man exclaims over the wholly unanticipated water-borne perspective and does his best to capture the beauty of the old boats tied to Hyde Street Pier.  The motion of the Lovely Martha adds a couple of knots to the piercing wind slicing out of San Pablo Bay and my companion asks in dead earnest, "Don't you get cold?"  Of course the answer can only be "Yes."  After a brief moment we both laugh.

As we pass by the end of the breakwater protecting the boats docked at Fisherman's Wharf, I explain why this location is named "creakers."  In the years before the concrete breakwater was installed, a string of floating tires provided partial protection from the storm surge capable of wrecking the fishing fleet.  These tires were anchored on the east end by three long creosote-soaked posts sunk deep into the Bay ooze.  Once the permanent structure was completed, these posts remained for several years, loosening in the incessant waves and making an eerie creaking noise.  The name survives long after their removal.

As we motor into the San Francisco Bay, the ripping flood tide collides with the opposing wind spawning a confused and lumpy sea.  Beautiful but daunting.  Swimmers are going to be swallowing some saltwater today.

The two boats coast to a stop on the southeast end of the island within a stone's throw of the sign warning of dire consequences for aiding escaped prisoners.  Within a few minutes we hear the call "10 minutes" float across from the Silver Fox.  I leave the photographer to his own devices, strip down to my swimsuit and goggles and stuff my clothes into a plastic bag.  I know from experience that the start often goes unannounced and want to be ready to slip over the side as soon as I see the first SouthEnders splash down.

The day before, the SouthEnd lead pilot published a Fleet Utilization Plan directing the Dolphin pilot craft to take up the west flank of the swim and remain on the southwest end of the island until the start.  Since the Dolphins supply 38 pilot craft compared to 17 from the SouthEnd, the usual flotilla doesn't surround the two swim boats before the start.  This is a bit of a blessing in that I can jump from the wooden rub rail without fear of colliding with some water craft.  Upon seeing the expected and unannounced splashes from the South End boat, I slide into the cold water and start stroking for shore.

As a swimmer whose speed ranks as "mere mortal" my strategy for these cross-current swims is to sight on the Golden Gate bridge.  Breathing on the right side and keeping my course parallel to the bridge ensures that I am swimming perpendicular to the current regardless whether it's flooding or ebbing.

The cross-current swim of greatest renown is the English Channel.  Distinguished Channel Swimming and Pilot Federation pilot, Mike Oram, has published several analyses of Channel tides and piloting strategies and they mostly boil down to the notion of "T-ing the tide."  The quicker a swimmer can get across the adverse current and get some assistance from the ebb, the faster the crossing time.  Trying to swim against the current just wastes energy and time.

As intellectually and mathematically satisfying as this strategy might be, a swimmer needs great discipline to maintain execution when the island starts sliding rapidly away on the right, the Golden Gate bridge keeps shrinking, and the Jeremiah O'Brien fades into the distance.  Immediately, the flood begins scattering swimmers across the bay with the slower ones being swept toward Treasure Island.  Pilot coverage is exceptionally sparse during this period for a couple of reasons.  First, two-thirds of the pilots had started from the west side of the island as instructed and were fighting the northeast wind to reach the rapidly dispersing pod being forced east.  Second, the swim plan made no provision for retrieving the numerous plastic bags full of clothes when the water taxis return to dock.  This means that all the motorized inflatable pilot craft from both clubs are crammed to the gunwales with garments and incapable of rescuing swimmers until they have made the 30 minute round trip to drop their bundles at the club docks and return to the scene of the swim.

Forbes Island

Three quarters of the way across my discipline deserts me.  Despairing of seeing the Jeremiah O'Brien continually recede, I begin crabbing against the tide.  Like a dehydrated man chasing a mirage, I claw my way toward a diminishing objective.  Eventually reason reasserts itself and I realize I just have to take my medicine and swim directly to shore until I eventually find the ebb current.  150 yards from Pier 39, I look up to see Forbes Island far to my right and gliding yet farther away.  Choking down a moment of panic, I determine to keep going due south until I find the ebb or find a ladder along the shoreline.  If all else fails I can swim around the breakwater west of Pier 39, pull myself onto the dock, and walk back to the club in my skivvies.  In a "darkest hour before the dawn" moment though, I shortly find myself crashing through the flotsam that delineates the crease between two converging currents.  I have finally found the ebb.  And it is strong.  6.8 feet of water has to get through the narrow opening at the Golden Gate bridge by 3p and I am now swimming in water that is in a hurry to get a head start on its exodus.

I am not alone in catching the ebb far, far east of the Aquatic Park opening.  Even the fastest swimmers of both clubs have been swept east of the creakers before finding the favorable current.  And the slowest swimmers have been carried as far as pier 35.

The inflatables are now busily at work, fishing tired swimmers out of the water and ferrying them back to the clubhouses.  In all, 15 swimmers (7 Dolphins and 8 SouthEnders) choose to retire early--somewhat less than 15% of the starting number and exceptionally high even for a tough swim like NYD Alcatraz.  A SouthEnd inflatable picks up a Dolphin husband and wife pair near the east end of the Pier 39 seawall.  As usual, the communication frequency chosen for this SouthEnd swim is channel 69 and the pilot radios his status.  Asked what numbers the swimmers wear, he says he doesn't see any markings on the left shoulders.  Instruction come crackling back over the radio to check the right shoulders.  Upon finding that the boat is carrying Dolphins, the lead pilot issues guidance to SouthEnd pilots to no longer rescue Dolphins.  "They can take care of themselves."  Upon reaching the creakers, the husband and wife ask to be dropped off so that they can finish swimming to the beach.  The pilot sniffs, "I'm not dropping you fools off here.  I'd just have to pick you up again."  He carts them the rest of the way to the dock.

Upon catching the ebb, a back eddy ushers me slightly inshore so that I cruise first by the Pampanito and then the Jeremiah O'Brien at Pier 45.  Cutting inside the breakwater at Fisherman's Wharf, the building ebb quickly propels me west where I thread between the Hercules and the Eureka; under Hyde Street pier; behind the Eppleton Hall and stroke for home feeling equal parts relieved and elated.  My crossing has taken 1 hour and 11 minutes compared to my previous high mark of 55 minutes.  Without question, this was one tough swim.

The gaiety in the men's sauna reflects the struggle of the swim.  When Mickey Lavelle arrives, the party shifts into high gear as the small wooden enclosure booms with the chorus of tenor and baritone voices joined in uproarious sing-along of Irish ballads and cowboy songs.  The circulating bottles of whiskey probably contribute to the high spirits.

The swim trinket is a towel emblazoned with the SouthEnd logo along with the date and name of the event.  Unlike previous NYD swims, no mention of the Dolphin Club appears.  Not enough towels are available for all swimmers so the SouthEnders enjoy first dibs with a promise that Dolphins will receive theirs when the reorder arrives.

Every NYD Alcatraz swim spawns its share of stories.  It is a cold, difficult, unpredictable swim and swimmers and planners must deal with whatever Mother Nature decides to dispense on the given day.  However, more than one Dolphin was heard to ponder in the days to come, "Hmmmm.  Separate registration, separate water taxis, separate fleet plan, separate start, separate rescue craft, separate check-in, separate trinkets, no mention of Dolphin Club.  What is it that makes this a joint swim?"

And Then There Were Three

Darcy Wettersten discovered the link through some means of her own.  Perhaps she snorked it on the internet.  Perhaps she learned of it from one of the cadre of marathon open-water swimmers friends she has at the Dolphin Club.  Regardless of source, she was tracking the steady progress of Craig Lenning on her browser as he attempted to become the third person in history to complete a solo swim from the Farallon Islands to the California mainland.

A little before 10p on April 8, 2014, Darcy realized that Mr. Lenning was due to strike land at Muir Beach in the Marin Headlands.  She immediately emailed an alert to her friend, Jon Rauh, who lives nearby and encouraged him to take advantage of the opportunity to witness a truly historic event.  As it turned out, Jon was attending the Giants home opener at AT&T park when the email came through.  The game was just wrapping up and he hurried back across the Golden Gate bridge to stand on the beach.  His timing was perfect.  He spied the small light affixed to the swimmer's goggles blinking feebly 100 yards off shore.  The light from Jon's electronic torch in turn provided the swimmer a beacon to guide him the final distance to land.

Craig Lenning and Jon Rauh

Operating under standard English Channel swimming rules, Lenning was required to climb onto completely dry land without assistance in order to have the swim officially ratified.  Fearing well-intentioned, but potentially disastrous contact, he emphatically screamed out, "Don't touch me!"  Although he'd been swimming since 6 a.m., Lenning emerged from the sea with a measure of elan and remain untouched all the way to dry sand where he posed for a picture with Rauh before going back to the water and his escort boat.

Although Craig Lenning lives in land-locked Denver, Colorado, he is a supremely accomplished open water swimmer.  He has swum five channels of the Oceans Seven challenge including the English Channel and the North Sea Channel between Ireland and Scotland.  He is also a member of the exclusive club of people who have completed the Triple Crown of Open Water Swimming.

The chalkboard next to the pay phone at the Dolphin Club duly noted Craig's accomplishment and crossing time.  Underneath, some wag wrote, "So close to making it."  This snarky remark was apparently a reference to an arbitrary stipulation by the recently-formed Farallon Islands Swimming Federation.  Their rules identify the Golden Gate Bridge as the official start or finish line.  The amusing thing is that when Ted Erikson, the second  Farallons Channel soloist, was forced to conclude his swim at the bridge boundary in 1967, a fair amount of grumbling ensued that he had failed to reach dry land.  In fact a 1968 relay team of Dolphin Club members achieved the only successful swim crossing from the Farallon Islands to dry land in Aquatic Park Cove.  The team of Ed Duncan, Lew Cook, Conrad Liberty, Stu Evans, Bill Harlan, and Bob Jimenez outraced a crew from the South End Club who failed to reach land.

In any case, someone quickly erased the denigrating remark and Craig Lenning adds his name to the incredibly short list of three individuals and three relay teams to have completed the toughest swim in the world.

Shark in Aquatic Park

Mike Silva and Kim Chambers
assess the danger

Joe Mannion stood waist-deep in the translucent green waters of Aquatic Park and contemplated the shark as it languidly prowled the shoreline.  The dark dorsal fin sliced slowly through the water leaving a tiny wake.  The water was clear enough to easily see the distinctive dark upper body and white underside--coloring reminiscent of the infamous great white.  The shark made no aggressive moves although it was obvious that a quick flick of its tail could propel it across the six feet separating bather from fish with potentially disastrous results.  Joe discussed the latent threat with his shore-side companion for a couple of minutes.  As the shark progressed slowly east with the flood current, Joe gave a phlegmatic shrug of his shoulders and plowed into the water with his characteristic brawny freestyle stroke.  Swimming to the end of the Dolphin Club pier with his head buried in the bay, Joe was oblivious when the shark changed course and began undulating west and headed straight toward his churning feet.  Passing within inches, the shark turned and followed the swimmer for a couple of terrifying yards before resuming its slow eastward glide with the current.

It seemed that the shark was investigating any movement in the shallows.  At one point Mike Silva stuck a splayed hand in the water and swished it back and forth.  The fish immediately turned towards his hand and moved in the direction of the agitated water.  In the following video, it's clear that the shark is following the movements of the wader who is not eager to get too close.  A member of the Pelagic Shark Foundation later surmised that the shark was probably suffering from blindness due to a bacterial infection.

Afterwards in the sauna Joe Marenda, an avid surfer, offered his wholly credible expertise on sharks.  "That was a salmon shark," he said with authority.  "It has similar coloring to the great white and when a seven or eight-footer swims by your board it can scare the hell out of you.  But they're not dangerous to humans unless provoked."  Pressed on the similarity, he pointed out, "You can tell it's a salmon shark because only the dorsal fin sticks up from the water.  On a great white, you'd see both the dorsal and the tail fin."  Subsequent marine wildlife experts confirmed his identification.  Apparently, these sharks make long oceanic migrations and are not uncommon in the San Francisco during "pupping" season.  Regardless of how "common" they might be, more than one person has been swimming in the bay for twenty-five years without seeing or even hearing about this type of shark.

Sadly, a couple of people spotted the shark the next day being attacked by seagulls.  The gulls were pecking at the fish's eyes and generally putting on a display of nature's brutality.

Salmon shark

More than half a dozen shark species prowl San Francisco Bay.  Leopard, seven gill, spiny dogfish, and soupfin sharks are quite common.  They comprise the bulk of the 1,000s of sharks that inhabit the Bay.  While increasingly popular with local fisher people, these sharks are rarely visible in the murky green water.  In addition, they generally patrol the muddy bottom feeding on clams, crabs, small fish and fish eggs remaining out of sight of swimmers as they go about their business.  The seven gill shark is a little more ferocious.  It attacks other young shark species as well as the occasional harbor seal but leaves humans alone. 

Some years ago, Bill Powning was participating in a Gas House Cove swim.  Intrepid but slow, the flood tide swept him past the pilings of the Municipal Pier and under the lines of fishermen congregated on the bay side.  Just as Bill was about to make the turn at the Roundhouse and return to Aquatic Park Cove, a man on the pier reeled a writhing, four-foot leopard shark straight over the swimmer and hauled it onto the pier.  Bill remained completely unaware of his close encounter of the toothy kind.  His pilot in the kayak had a ringside view, though, and thrilled to the evidence of locally based sharks.

Two questions dominate those asked of bay swimmers.  Isn't it cold?  What about sharks?  Even with the unexpected addition of salmon shark to the Bay list, the answer to the second question remains, "Nothing that will eat you on purpose."