History of the Dolphin Club Boat Shop

When the Dolphin Club was founded in 1877, the primary athletic interest was competitive rowing. This was during a time when the Whitehall rowboat was the workhorse of San Francisco Bay. Speed was the issue with these boats. The design also enabled them to handle the harbor chop and yet track straight. This was a critical business asset in the days when the first buyer to reach a cargo ship sailing into San Franciso Bay gained first dibs to drayage rights. As a result, winning rowing races was a mixture of sport, gambling, and business advertisement.

The city directory listed many residents with occupation as “boatbuilder.” One of these was Thomas Keenan who owned his own shop on Jefferson Street. The Club contracted with Keenan who built numerous boats for our club and others. He built our Chas M Farrell in 1917 which is still in use. He became a Dolphin Life Member.

Jon Bielinski

Keenan died in 1933 and his boatbuilding business shuttered. About this time, many local boat shops were going out of business. However, the Pacific Coast rowing clubs continued to race, and their boats constantly needed repairs. After Keenan’s death, the Dolphin fleet deteriorated. Frustrated by diminishing options, the Dolphin Club decided to take control by bringing the work in-house and converted handball court “B” into a repair shop. The Club caretaker at the time was Bill Richards who was a boatbuilder and had worked in a boat shop. The Club commissioned him to build three new singles for $400 each. The Baggiani, Landucci, and Foster were completed in 1948. Bill retired in 1950 and died in 1959.

With our boat shop lacking a professional builder, this was another period when the fleet slipped into disrepair. Well-meaning members tried their hand. However, even talented carpenters and those with construction experience did not have the specialized skills for Whitehall repair and construction. Herman Zahler, who joined the club in 1972, would tackle any project big or small. For example, he constructed the new locker rooms and rebuilt the pier. Although he made the flat-bottom utility boat named Horse, there’s no record of him attempting more complex work on lapstrake Whitehall boats.

In late 1983, Dino Landucci gained board acceptance to fund restoration of the boat that was named after him. A rigger on the Balclutha learned about the project and told his friend, Jon Bielinski. Jon came to look at the job and found the boat in a sad state. It had a broken keel, broken frames, broken bottom planks, and broken thwarts making the vessel completely unseaworthy. The Club hired Bielinski to undertake the restoration. He packed up the boat parts and sailed them to Sausalito to duplicate the parts at the Sausalito Shipwrights Cooperative there. He sailed the refurbished parts and material back to the Dolphin Club and reassembled the boat. Once that was done, the Landucci stood in stark contrast to the other dilapidated, maintenance-deferred boats at the time.

Jon’s achievement with Landucci led the Club to continue funding his work on the rest of the fleet. The fleet enlarged with the addition of Cecco and Bruno, built from scratch. This engendered a real interest on the part of club members in how the boats went together. Jon was happy to support this activity. His experience with boat building was that there was mutual benefit to work with other boat builders at the Cooperative in Sausalito. But it turned out that the effort needed some organization and led to the beginning of “Boat Night.” Instead of haphazard, ad hoc “one-on-one” tutelage, the Club scheduled a 3-hour period of group boat maintenance each Tuesday night with a little bite to eat. More and more people began to participate, and it became the mainstay of the effort to maintain the fleet, providing far more labor than Jon could as a single individual. Boat Night has been in place now for 43 years and the fleet receives regular maintenance attention as reflected in the meticulously recorded Varnish Record. A reliable estimate puts the total volunteer time devoted to the boats during this period over 200,000 hours.

Nanda Palmieri points out that Boat Night has been going on for decades and people are not getting hurt and that speaks to Jon and Julia’s ability to get people involved, teach them, and also instill safety consciousness. “You can have people of all levels of ability and a variety of ages. We are using tools and we are using sharp things and its never felt in any way unsafe. They teach people how to use the band saw. Very deliberate. ‘This is how you stand. Put your eye protection on.’ You can see that’s always in their mind: how to do this safely.”

Beyond boat maintenance and building, Boat Nights foster community and education. Diane Walton points out that tasks are distributed according to a volunteer’s capacity to “give and not harm.” In her case, before graduating to power tools, she was assigned to sand oarlocks. At some point, the guy standing next to her was wearing coveralls and clearly had skills. He watched Diane for a while and then said, “Can I ask you a question?” She consented and he followed up with, “What are you thinking about?” Clearly flummoxed, she responded, “I’m just trying to do my chore. What made you ask me that?” He said that a principle he had learned was that you leave a part of yourself on everything you touch. At this point Diane is wondering if maybe she’s speaking with the philosopher king of Boat Shop. He followed up with a suggestion that she “just be bigger. Be more you with the sandpaper and oarlock.” She says, “Then he disappeared. I’ve not seen him again, but it’s that kind of magic that happens in here that just knocks me out! I’m wildly appreciative of the work that happens here. Not only for the boats, but for the members who choose to come.”

The sense of community extends beyond the Dolphin membership. Todd Bloch tells of a Boat Night when the weather was at its most gorgeous and the Jefferson street doors of the Boat Shop were open. An Italian family wandered by and were “blown away by the work that was going on.” Jon Bielinski invited them in for a closer look. “They ended up spending the whole evening working on the boat with us. They thought it was the greatest part of their trip.” He says the community outreach extends beyond the Boat Shop. “When I row down the Bay in front of Pier 39, all the cameras come out. People are taking pictures of the rowboat with Alcatraz in the background. You actually can distract people from the sea lions by rowing past them in a beautiful wooden boat.”

Another aspect of Boat Night that Club members cherish is the hands-on education in wooden boats. Elementary school teachers might bring a class to Boat Night a couple of times a year. At one point, one of the kids worked up the courage to ask, “Well. How? Uh how? How do you start?” Jon replied, “Well. First you find a tree that wants to be part of a boat.” He then began to explain that the ribs came from the black locust tree; that the knees came from apple orchards. Diane Walton says, “As he went through this explanation, the kids were just mesmerized by that way into it. It made so much sense to them, and it was beautiful.” One teacher tells of children who were classified as “learning disabled” in an academic environment. She says, “They were the ones that got to shine. They got to feel that they weren’t at the bottom of the pile. They were the tactile learners and those tactile learners where the first ones to grab the sandpaper and not want to quit. Back in the academic environment, it helped them be more respected and they did better because of that.”

Probably the starkest example of the long-term impact of exposure to the Boat Shop and Boat Night is Kal Kini Davis. He started coming to Boat Night when he was 16 years old with parental supervision. Nanda Palmieri says, “He didn’t have boat-building skills, but he was a quick learner.  He really got into boat building and that was wonderful to see. I think he had difficulties fitting into school and Boat Night meant a lot to him and helped him figure himself out and he really engaged with the people and the work in a very meaningful way.” Kal ended up going to the Northwest School of Wooden Boat Building, following in the footsteps of Julia Hechanova. He is now at the Rhode Island School of Design. He is the co-author of the novel The Uncertainty Principle. In the afterword, he gives a heart-warming shout-out to his experience at the Dolphin Club. “When I was sixteen, I walked into the boat shop at the Dolphin Club in San Francisco and was welcomed by master builders Jon Bielinski and Julia Hechanova. They introduced me to the world of wooden boats and inspired me to apply to the Northwest School of Wooden Boatbuilding. I was accepted, and now, every weekday, I wake up excited to learn about the properties of different wood species or how to plank a boat. Thank you to Jon and Julia for showing me the way here.”

Anton Huttner is the program director at the youth development organization, Rocking the Boat. He brought a group to the Boat Shop. He says:

 “They had some concept of what we are about, but they hadn’t seen that level of craftmanship. Julia Hechanova gave us a tour and her knowledge and expertise was really something. It definitely opened their horizon. They were really taken with the knees and breasthooks that were cut out of grown, natural tree features. At Rocking the Boat, we don’t have those cultured refinements. I feel like places like the Dolphin Club can inspire people to pick up the skills and take the torch and who know where it goes from there?

People with a lot of skill and know-how are keeping the fleet alive and that is essential. The boats, by themselves, with the use they are getting, if they don’t get looked after the way they are looked after right now, it is a very quick downhill. They are such fragile vessels; they need the love and care they get from the people who look after them. I cannot imagine that there are a lot of places that have treasures like that. The stewardship is at the top-tier level, and the quality of the boat shows it.”

John Muir has been a Club member for over 30 years. He works next door in the small boat shop at the National Park Service as a curator of small craft. He is a craftsman and a preservationist. He is careful to say that he is speaking as a Club member only and not as an official of the Park Service. “I just want to emphasize that Jon [Bielinski] is not only an amazing boat builder; he’s a national treasure. In my experience working with museums and craftsmen and preservationists around the country and in Europe, Jon is of the highest echelon. And he's also brought in an apprentice that shows very, very strong promise. We have been able as a club to reap the reward of a level of craftsmanship and a fleet that is a national treasure. It's not just ‘our Club is cool.’ This is really cool! Honestly, it's hard to describe the value of building in-house skill and craftsmanship like this.”

First All-woman, All-American English Channel Relay Team in History (and all Dolphins)

l-r: Karen Drucker, Susan Cobb, Carol McGrath,
Joni Beemsterboer, Lisa Smith, Susan Allen (1989)

Records, the saying goes, are made to be broken. This certainly applies to Dolphin Club athletic feats: Fastest, slowest, youngest, oldest, longest, farthest. Every one of these records has been broken repeatedly—and sometimes shattered. One distinction, however, can never be eclipsed: The first to do something will always and forever be first. In 1989, six Dolphins became the first American all-woman team to successfully swim the English Channel. They also happened to set a record of 10 hours, 54 minutes for fastest “All Ladies Relay Swim” that year. “Had there not been a deterioration of conditions,” says Andy Vernon, the crossing’s official observer, “I believe that the San Francisco Lady Swimmers would have broken the record of 10 hours thirty-two minutes.” Regardless, they will be the first American women relay until the end of time.

The idea to swim the English Channel and the core of the team formed in Hawaii.  When the whole team came together it consisted of six Dolphins:  Lisa Smith, Karen Drucker, Joni Beemsterboer, Susan Cobb-Frederick, Susan Allen, and Carol McGrath. The idea to attempt a Channel relay bubbled up over cocktails in Maui. In this oral history of the swim, the women recount the story of their precedent-setting achievement.

Karen:            I just remember margaritas and pina coladas being involved. Lisa and I had just swum the Maui Channel and after that, you go and do the Waikiki Rough Water swim.

Lisa Smith:     Susan Allen was always in charge of these swims. We did the Honolulu marathon every year even if we didn’t run it.

Susan Allen:   I wasn’t in charge. I was just following Conrad von Blankenburg. Morgan Kulla was the one.

Karen:            After our swims, we were just sitting around toasting ourselves and someone threw out, ‘What’s next for you girls?’ Somebody suggested the English Channel and by the time the last cocktail came, we were going, ‘let’s check it out!’” Lisa, immediately when she got back to the office on Monday, wrote to the English Channel commission or whatever it was to find out what the story was in terms of how you do it.

Lisa:               I belonged to the Olympic Club and I knew some people there were trying to put together a relay, and I wasn’t interested in doing it with them. I thought, “I can put a team together. I’m a manager type.” I wrote the letters to the Channel Swimming Association and learned what was required.

Karen:            The little lady there wrote back and said, “Well, if you girls do it, you’ll be the very first American women to do it.” After that, Lisa and I just looked at each other and said, “who would be fun to do this with?”

Susan Cobb:   This was in the days way before email. It was fax machines and regular mail. Lisa did this stuff. We’d get this big packet in the mail from the CSA. The communication part of this was not easy.

Joni:               I remember Lisa calling me and saying, “I’m trying to put this team together.” At the time, I had already committed to another team, but the idea of being the first American women to successfully make a crossing really appealed. So, I said, “If I can get myself replaced, I’m in. What’s the requirement?” And Lisa said, “You be faster than me.”

Susan Cobb:   She didn’t tell me that, which was lucky.

Carol:             I hadn’t been swimming for six months, and somebody asked if I was interested in joining the team. I think it was Joni. I said sure, and I guess I need to be getting in the water and practicing a little bit.

 Lisa:              I remember thinking, “I’ve gotta get fast. I’ve gotta get fast. And then realizing—I’m not going to get fast.” But I was strong. I’ve always been strong. I could do long distance triathlons. I could just never swim fast.

Karen:            I think Carol was our fast one. I remember that she was going into the Bay two or three times a day, and I was thinking we have to get this gal. She’s fast and she’s committed.

Joni:               That contributed to the notion of a team and not wanting to disappoint.

Lisa:               It was always just the six of us, and no one dare get sick or quit. We were all Dolphins. Peer pressure.

Karen:            That’s a really good point.  I remember even when I was swimming and thinking, “this is really hard.” But when there’s a team. You’re thinking, “I don’t want to be the one:  I don’t want be the one to get sick or quit or whatever.” And so that team spirit is what kept us all going and committed. My swimming got so much better because now I had a purpose.

For a warmup, five members of the team decided to undertake the Byron Cup swimming challenge, an annual event commemorating Lord Byron’s legendary 1822 swim across the Bay of Poets. A large number of swimmers register to swim the 7.5 kilometers between Portovenere and Lerici in northern Italy.  While Susan Allen dined in France, the remaining five relay team members met fellow Dolphin and renowned San Franciso restaurateur, Modesto Lanzone, in La Spezia for the swim and a magnificent dinner afterwards.

Lisa:               The trip to Italy was a hoot. We had a lot of fun.

Karen:            How in the world did we get the crazy idea to go to Italy beforehand?  Was that you Joni?

Joni:               I think it was, but it was really Modesto who tantalized me with the idea of swimming from Port Venere to Lerici which was about five miles—but it was rough water.

Karen:            Oh! The jet skis!

Susan Cobb:   It was a holiday and there were a lot of drunk people in the water. (Not us.)

Karen:            They did their boats the way they did their driving in the streets. Was that a relay? We swam five miles??? Did we even have pilot boats?

Joni:               Because of the chaotic conditions, we all got separated. Modesto was in a boat, and Carol and I stayed with him.

Carol:             The one thing that stood out for me was how terribly salty the water was. All I wanted was to drink something, and there was nothing to be had but oranges or something.

Joni:               Our water bottles landed in another boat. Modesto tossed us a peach which we shared, Carol and I, passing it back and forth. I still remember how terrific it tasted. Back in La Specia, Modesto treated all of us to a lavish Italian dinner served al fresco.

About a week later, all six women rendezvoused in England for the channel swim. Their pilot was Willie Richardson, and their boat was the Stumark III. Like almost all channel swims, they started from Shakespeare Beach, a rocky stretch on the Dover coast. The start time was 5:46 on the morning of August 24, 1989. The skipper apparently had an English sense of humor.

                        Karen:            The pilot had some kind of a hammer or something and said, “I don’t know. The engine hasn’t been working great. I’m not sure we’re going to make it.” That was a good one.

                        Joni:               It felt to me when we started out, these guys didn’t think we were going to make it. Frankly, they get paid if you go a mile or if you go the distance. But at some point—around half—they began to realize, “Oh wait a minute. We might be taking the first American women across.” And I felt their attitude change slightly.

                        Carol:             What were these signs that they were skeptical?

Joni:               That we were women. That we were from another country. That we didn’t know what we were doing.

Susan Allen:   A lot of people were trying to swim the channel there and had never trained like we had trained in open water. And when they found out that we knew how to handle open water like we do, they realized that we were going to make it for Christ’s sake.

Carol:             Well, I was on land because I was the first, but my recollection was that [the crew] was very kind. They just didn’t quite get why we were all so seasick. They were just impervious. I remember being seasick the whole time except for when I swam.

Karen:            I remember we were in our own little worlds. You’d do your swim and then you’d get into your sleeping bag or whatever and no one was talking to each other. I was swimming my turn and thinking, “Oh god. Isn’t Joni just the best! She’s coming over to support me and then blechhh.”

Carol:             I think the pilots were cooking fish or something god-awful below and offering us food. The thought of it was blechhh. No thank you. How can you guys eat right now on this boat.

Susan Cobb:   I think they were eating something like fried spam.

Joni:               They would walk from one place to another and cross our paths with this bucket of whatever it was they were eating and it was so awful.

Carol:             I could barely understand them because they had an English brogue or cockney or something like that.

Karen:            All I remember of the food on board was digestives. I loved those. Digestives and GU are what got me across.

Lisa:               Digestives were really just cookies, but we thought they were health food and we ate a bunch of them.

Joni:               After my second swim, I was really not doing so great. I was on the boat and all bundled up and had this cap on. Lisa was trying to get me to drink and I had a water bottle. She said, “Take the cap off. And I took my hat off. I didn’t know she meant the cap on the water bottle.”

Carol:             It was a bright, sunny day and we were all just huddled up in clothes. Those blue long coats we had.

Susan Allen:   Sweatshirts, caps, slippers. Everything.

Susan Cobb:   I have the observer’s report. The air temperature was between 56 and 58. The sea temperature went between 64 and 66. The wind force started at 2 and went to 4/5.

Those numbers refer to the Beaufort scale, developed by Britain's Admiral Sir Francis Beaufort in 1805 to help sailors estimate the winds via visual observations. The scale starts at 0 and goes to a force of 12. A Force 2 is a light breeze, which forms ripples with the appearance of scales. The crests have a glassy appearance and do not break. At Force 4/5, the wind is a moderate to fresh breeze that causes small trees in leaf to sway. The water forms moderate waves with many white horses (breaking waves or white caps that appear when the wind blows.) These were the conditions that led the observer, Andy Vernon, to cite deteriorating conditions as costing the team an historical all-women crossing record.

The team completed the swim at 4:40 in the afternoon when Susan Cobb stepped ashore on the beach near Calais. This allowed the team to at least set the all-woman record for that year.

Lisa:               I was in the little dinghy just in case I had to be the last swimmer. So, I did get to touch France.

Susan Cobb:   You take three steps out of the water and then you just swim back to the boat. I think we were pretty tired. Pictures showed us all with sunburned faces.

Karen:            And then we all felt like, “OK. Yay, we did it.” And then you have something like three hours back. They’re just high-tailing it back. It felt like someone was taking a bucket of water and just throwing it on us for three hours. We’re just hanging on for dear life.

Carol:             I do remember the boat ride home, I was wondering, “Are we ever going to get there?” It was so choppy and dark and I just wanted to get back to the other side. It took an eternity in my head. It was a harrowing ride home.

Joni:               I think the pilots were full throttle. They were like, “BANG!”

Susan Allen:   We were singing show tunes—West Side Story.

Karen:            When we got back, you’d think that there should be like fireworks or something going on the other end. No one had thought about bringing cab money and we had to walk all the way back to the room. We’re stumbling like drunken sailors because we’d been on the rocking boat for so long.

Joni:               When we arrived back in England there was this little tour group in a bus. Someone told them what we’d done and they started clapping for us.

Karen:            I remember taking a shower first and it was one of those metal showers and everyone was in the room. I was just banging against the shower because I was so wobbly.

Lisa:               We got back and partied. I don’t think we were tired. I know I wasn’t. We went out and ate and drank.

Susan Cobb:   We went to an Italian restaurant, probably the only good restaurant in Folkstone.

Almost 36 years later, each member of the first all-American Channel relay team vibrates with the memories they made that August day. They share a bond of great pride and enduring friendship born in the achievement of a record that can never be broken—and the fun they had doing it.

The Tragedy of Jim Small

Jim Small

To the best of my knowledge, Jim Small is the only person to die swimming in San Francisco Bay. Like many large bodies of water, the Bay has its share of drownings, murders, and suicides. Mr. Small was not one of these. He was an excellent swimmer. He was not eaten by a shark nor did he succumb to hypothermia. In October of 1963, he was run over by a fishing boat.

He was twenty-seven years old when he died, a strapping young man over six feet tall weighing 185 pounds. James Baird, the man who swam stroke for stroke with Jim Small the day of the tragedy, said, “We were water babies. We swam, played water polo, surfed, were lifeguards.” A month earlier, Mr. Baird had barely edged out a victory in the annual Dolphin Club Golden Gate swim. According to Art Rosenbaum’s column in the San Francisco Chronicle, Baird turned to his best friend after the race and gasped, “I was lucky—you’re the best swimmer.” Small replied, “Luck had nothing to do with it—you made the course. You deserved it.”

The setting for the disaster was a long open water race in San Francisco Bay sponsored by the Dolphin Club. The course ran from Richardson Bay, across the shipping lane to a buoy moored near the St. Francis Yacht Club, and then turned east to end at the club beach in Aquatic Park. Given the distance and potential boat traffic, the organizers required a pilot craft for each swimmer. Come race day, though, ten swimmers showed up with eight pilot boats. Because Mr. Small and Mr. Baird were so evenly matched in speed, it seemed reasonable to allocate one support boat for both swimmers. Inauspiciously, another contestant arrived at the last minute and begged to swim. The organizers knew Joe Flahaven as a strong, fast swimmer and made a scrimmage-line call to allow him to participate. That made the count eleven swimmers, eight pilot craft.

Nowadays, it’s not unusual to have as many as three swimmers per pilot boat. One difference is that modern swims are covered with one or more motorized vessels. Typically these are fast, inflatable boats that zoom around the periphery of the swimmers, creating a safety zone. These zippy boats are easily capable of intercepting anything that poses a threat other than the large tanker and container ships. As they do in the English Channel, these behemoths have the right of way over swimmers. Prior to 1961, the Coast Guard provided patrol boats to support Bay swims. In July of that year, the newly appointed Rear Admiral Allen Winbeck rescinded that policy. For the fateful race, human-powered, hand-built wooden row boats provided the sole protection.

Another difference is that this swim pre-dated the formation of the San Francisco Vessel Traffic Service or VTS. Established in 1972, nine years after the death of Jim Small, the VTS is located on Yerba Buena Island in the San Francisco Bay. Its responsibility is to monitor and control shipping traffic much the same way that Air Traffic Control monitors and controls air traffic.

A third difference is that pilots of out-of-cove swims for both clubs now employ modern marine communication equipment. With these hi-tech “walkie-talkies,” they contact VTS at the beginning of a swim and provide swimmer count, origin, destination, and approximate finish time. VTS closely regulates container ship movement, so pilots have very early warning of the approach of large vessel traffic. Using separate marine channels, pilots can also directly communicate with other Bay traffic as well as with other pilots. This technology was prohibitively expensive and bulky at the time.

On race day, Dan Osborne and Dave Hinton were the oarsmen in the double-seated rowboat assigned to cover the two lead swimmers, Mr. Small and Mr. Baird. A champion swimmer himself, Mr. Osborne was an extremely experienced open water pilot. As Mr. Flahaven had no personal pilot and was fairly fast, the plan was for the one rowboat to provide support for all three swimmers. Unfortunately, by the time the group was halfway across the Bay, Mr. Flahaven had fallen a hundred yards behind the leaders. Mr. Osborne and Mr. Hinton split their attention fore and aft until the fateful moment that they spotted the conning tower of a U.S. Navy nuclear submarine steaming east in the deeper channel north of Alcatraz. Black and stealthy, numerous submarines plied San Francisco Bay in the days before the Mare Island submarine base closed in 1996. The nearly submerged ship appeared to be headed toward the trailing swimmer. The pilots assayed the scene and saw no threat for the two leaders, so they decided to drop back.

Just as the pilots found themselves the farthest from the two leaders, Glen Newmann, captain of the sport-fishing boat, Pacific Dawn, decided to try and improve his luck. The fishers pulled their lines and Captain Newmann steamed at top speed along the Alcatraz Shoal, cutting right across the lead swimmers’ path.

Brian Gilbert, a lifetime member of the Dolphin Club, has written the most well-penned and well-researched account of this calamity available. Published in the Spring 2002 issue of the Dolphin Log, Mr. Gilbert’s article draws on extensive interviews with the eye witnesses. With permission, I will quote liberally from Mr. Gilbert’s account:

‘Dan Osborne: “When we saw the threat, we turned around and went back to Baird and Small at our best speed. When we realized we couldn’t reach them in time, we stood up in the boat and shouted and waved our arms, trying to draw attention. The captain was lounging in the cabin and he just waved back, apparently thinking we were just being overly friendly. He never altered course or looked at where we were pointing.”

Glenn Newmann: “I heard a thump and I thought we’d hit a piece of driftwood. Then I saw that head with goggles bob up, and I thought, ‘Oh my God, we’ve hit a skin diver.’”

James Baird: “I looked up and saw the thing five feet away. I saw it coming because I breathe on the left side. I pushed myself away from the hull and just missed getting hit by the propeller.”

Dan Osborne: “It was terrible. When I first saw the area, there was a circle of blood in the water 30 feet across. Somehow I got hold of his arms and tried to lift him up and into the boat, but I found I just couldn’t do it. Dave couldn’t help me because he had all he could do to keep the boat from capsizing with me trying to lift an unconscious man, slippery with his own blood, up over the gunwale. I cracked two ribs in the attempt, but I just couldn’t do it. We retrieved his severed leg, but that’s about all we could do for him.”

Philip Christiana, captain of the Sea Raven: “We could see that boat cutting right across the swimmer’s path. We could all see it was going to happen, but it was too late for us to do anything. When we reached the rowboat, we all helped to get the swimmer on board and laid him on the hatch cover.”’

Rushed to Letterman Hospital in the Presidio, Jim Small survived for three days. Hospital doctors told Art Rosenbaum that only Mr. Small’s remarkable physique and stamina kept him alive through the many surgeries and the amputation of his other leg.

One of the hand-built boats belonging to the Dolphin Club is named in Jim Small’s honor. His picture occupies a prominent position in the Staib Room. His cautionary tale has led to numerous additional safety precautions and provides ample incentive to exercise vigilance swimming outside Aquatic Park.

Sea Scouts of San Francisco

 

The 100-year history of the San Francisco Sea Scouts presents a cautionary tale that could have ensnared the Dolphin and South End swimming and boating clubs.  Thanks to the pioneering women in the 1970s who insisted on joining the clubs, we dodged a bullet.

Tamara Sokolov, skipper of Ship 100

Tamara Sokolov came to Sea Scouting in the footsteps of her older brother.  The family lived about a ten-minute walk away from the current Scout Base at the west end of Aquatic Park.  At fourteen years old, her brother was raised as a "free range" kid and left the house one morning with only the strict admonition to "be home by dinner."  As he walked by the Base, he saw a group of kids getting ready to go sailing and they invited him to go along.  When he returned home, he regaled the family with his sea-faring adventure.  As Tamara tells the story, "I'm from a family of five kids—pretty low income—and at the time, Sea Scouts was $60 a year so it became the one extra-curricular.  All of us kids joined after that and went through the program.  When I turned 21, I started running it and I'm still here."  She is now the Skipper of Ship 100.  In Sea Scout terms, a ship is the group equivalent to a Boy Scout "troop." She is also the Vice President on the executive committee of Scouting in the Bay Area.

The boys' boat, the Corsair

The Sea Scouting program in San Francisco is one of the most vibrant in the country.  The program currently has around 100 active scouts and, as reported by Heather Breaux in the August '23 edition of Latitude 38, "It's important that the families living in San Francisco understand that the Sea Scouts is a low-cost resource:  The wild joy and disciplined seamanship the kids possess from their time in Sea Scouts is an invaluable part of the continuing history of the waterfront."  And the program wins national recognition.  Ship 100 was recently honored with the 2023-2024 BoatUS National Flagship Award in recognition as the best ship in the country.  This honor is awarded not only for seamanship, but also for volunteer contribution to the community and leadership in water-based education.  Among other contributions, at Tinsley Island in the Delta, scouts from Ship 22 and Ship 100 helped to clear a former landslide site, retiled a roof, and installed a new sprinkler system.  They provided nautical education to young kids at Aquatic Park on Junior Ranger Day and to visiting cub scouts throughout the year.  The scouts also provide volunteer services to the National Park Service.  One recent example was a Quartermaster Service project in June, 2024 when scouts went aloft on the Balclutha to tar the rigging and help preserve the shrouds and stays of the masts.

Crew of the girls' boat, the Viking

The red Viking is the boat for the girls’ Ship 100.  The boys' vessel is the blue Corsair.  Both boats started life in the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard in the 1930s as lifeboats for an Indianapolis-class cruiser.  The Navy donated the boats to the Scouts in the 1950s.  Now known as whaleboats, these vessels have no motors, but can be sailed as well as rowed.  However, unlike modern sailboats, the sheets do not lead aft where the tiller is located.  This means that a crew must manage the sails. While the adult skippers provide supervision and guidance, the boats are commanded by a Sea Scout.  Steve Welch, the current Commodore, says, "The real masterstroke of Sea Scouting is the leadership skills you get while you're having these adventures like sailing up the Delta on a two-week summer cruise, camping on islands."  Tamara says, "We're cruising with 40 kids in 5 boats together and being able to run and play 'Capture the Flag' on an abandoned island.  We don't allow any electronic devices.  The kids go through weird withdrawals the first 48 hours.  But two days into the cruise, they're playing cards; they're busting out ukuleles and singing.  It's fun seeing teenagers act like kids again."  With no motor, the kids sail back against the wind through the narrow Carquinez straits sometimes doing as many as eleven tacks an hour and facing six-foot swells in San Pablo Bay.

1958 picture of Aquatic Park 
Sea Scouts and
High School Cutter location
SAN FRANCISCO HISTORY CENTER
SAN FRANCISCO PUBLIC LIBRARY 

Commodore Steve Welch came to the Sea Scouts when he was 14 years old.  While picking up newspapers at 24th and Valencia for his paper route near his home in the Mission, a friend told him he'd heard that "boys sailed and rowed their own boats" on the Bay.  Deciding to investigate, they rode two buses from the Mission to the Marina, walked through the Ft. Mason railroad tunnel, found a building they'd never seen before, and were promptly set to sanding a boat.  Steve says, "It was such a cool experience that I came back every weekend all through high school" riding the buses for an hour each way.  Initially afraid of the water, he soon "became a lifeguard, got jobs teaching small-boat sailing, and getting a pilot license at 16."

The SF Sea Scouts were originally based in Marina harbor in the 1920s along with the High School Cutter Program.  In 1938, the Marina Harbor expansion caused the scouts to move to Gas House Cove and the High School Cutter Program to move to the foot of Van Ness. With the start of WWII, the army was uncomfortable having a bunch of small boats roaming windward of their embarkation pier at Fort Mason.  Fortunately, the scouts were able to relocate to share the school district pier.  They built little storage shacks near the Ft. Mason tunnel.  A small gap in the Muni Pier parapet, now plugged with plywood, provided a gate to a gangway leading to floating docks and pilings that formed the pier at the foot of Van Ness Avenue.  Many Dolphins now refer to this early scout location as “the goalposts,” or “Farnsworth Gap.”  As WWII revved up, the scouting program deteriorated significantly.  Many adult leaders and older scouts joined the Navy or merchant marine.  The army posted sentries throughout the park, the motorpool area was fenced off, and Aquatic Park became "off-limits" to the public.

Proposed Sea Scout Base, 1936
San Francisco NHP Historic Documents

In June, 1936, City architect William Mooser, Jr. began to develop designs and draft plans for the buildings intended for the nascent Aquatic Park.  The central building was the Bathhouse, now the Maritime Museum.  In a sign of the respect that San Francisco held for the Sea Scouts, he also developed plans for a boathouse for them in the same Streamlined Moderne style.  Because of complications and delays during the three years of construction at Aquatic Park, plans for the scout boathouse (and new buildings for the rowing clubs) were abandoned.

According to Stephen Canright, Curator of Maritime History, in the Fall 2017 San Francisco Maritime Sea Letter, “The structure that now houses the Sea Scout Base … was built by the Army Port of Embarkation in 1942.”   When the war ended, the Army transferred use of the building and wharf to the Sea Scouts in a deal with the San Francisco Recreation and Parks department.  By 1950, the scouting program was back in full swing.  A 1948 aerial photograph shows the Sea Scout building, dock, and wharf in spiffy condition and surrounded with perhaps six active whaleboat ships and three or four powerboat ships.

1962 picture of functioning wharf with dinghies ready to launch SAN FRANCISCO HISTORY CENTER SAN FRANCISCO PUBLIC LIBRARY In 1977, the City and County of San Francisco, headed by mayor George Moscone, handed over to the National Park Service (NPS) the real property that is now known as Aquatic Park.  This transfer included the Sea Scout building and wharf.  The cable car turnaround property remained in city hands for obvious reasons.  The swimming and rowing clubs almost went over to the NPS too.  In September, 1977, the SF Progress reported that just prior to City approval of the transfer, the NPS "sent the matter back to committee for further hearing."  The reason given at the time, according to Supervisor Dianne Feinstein, "is that the transfer has been complicated by pending court action involving private rowing clubs located in this part of the City's northern waterfront.  The litigation involves questions of public access and membership discrimination."  She was referring to the lawsuit that Joan Brown and five other women successfully pursued to require the SERC, the Dolphin Club, and the Ariel Club to admit women.  The June, 1980 version of the Cultural History of GGNRA states, "Today the Dolphin and South End Clubs are the only nineteenth century rowing and swimming clubs still active in San Francisco County. Although now under city control the rowing clubs at Aquatic Park will be transferred to GGNRA after legal complications are corrected [emphasis added]. Recommend their inclusion in the National Register nomination for Aquatic Park when they are under National Park Service management."  Thankfully, that didn't happen.  Otherwise, the clubs would have been vulnerable to the whims of the National Maritime Historical Park (NMHP). NPS space occupied for over 30 years and still unavailable for scout use A good example is what happened to the Sea Scouts who operated fairly independently under the National Park Service until 1988 when Congress established the NMHP and it took over the Aquatic Park environs.  Within a short time, the convenience stations were shuttered leaving the scouts (and the public) with no readily accessible restrooms.  For a while, an outpost of the Park Police was housed at the Sea Scout base.  Although the police quickly relocated, the space has remained under NMHP control to the present day and has been unavailable for scout use for over a quarter century.  The space currently appears unoccupied and a bit disheveled but Paul DePrey, Superintendent of the National Maritime Historical Park maintains that this space is earmarked for future use in a sailing education program managed by the NMHP in concert with a partner that has yet to be identified.  Compare that to our building in 1988. What is now the Zahler Hall, women’s locker room, and Sancimino Room was a recently constructed empty shell.  Imagine what a tempting morsel that might have been to the Superintendent of NMHP at the time.

The April, 2009 issue of Argonaut360.com (Vol. XXVII No. 4955) reported on one of the darkest days for the scouts with the NPS.  The Superintendent of the SF Maritime National Historical Park had sent a non-negotiable and apparently vindictive Special Use Permit, in January of 2009, to the SF Sea Scouts with the following operating parameters which would, in effect, shut down the Scout Base.

• No vessels may be hauled out
• No maintenance work of any kind, including sanding and painting, may be done
• The ongoing historical whaleboat restoration project must be relocated
• The storage lockers, sail lockers, and workshop must be emptied
• Removal of all maintenance tools and material from the Base

In the couple of months following issuance of the Special Use Permit, assistants from the offices of Senator Dianne Feinstein and Speaker Nancy Pelosi as well as retired admiral Tom Brown of the Navy League attended a meeting between the Sea Scouts and George Turnbull, the Assistant Regional Director of the NPS.  “After the meeting, the NMHP Superintendent rescinded the order to vacate lockers and buoys by March 31.  She reinstated the prior agreement which was a Cooperative Use Agreement.”

Condemned Sea Scout wharf
days before destruction

Since 1948, the Scout Base has had a wharf connected to the concrete dock by a wooden trestle.  As late as 1998, when it was fully operational, the wharf provided a handy place to stow the sailing dinghies—used for training and fun—out of the water and free of sea scum.  The wharf had davits which made launching and retrieving the dinghies a simple, dry operation as opposed to having to fetch them from moorings in the cove.  Over the intervening years, due to a complicated history of neglect, the wharf disintegrated and was closed for use in 2106.  With a functioning wharf, the scouts could double or even quadruple the number of kids participating in the scouting programs.  In June of this year the wharf, already in a state of near collapse, was destroyed and removed on a barge.

Paul DePrey expresses optimism for the future of the Scout Base facilities.  He fully expects the capabilities that the wharf provided will be replaced following a process outlined by the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA).  He expects this process to begin at the end of the year with a “public conversation.”

The lease agreement between the Dolphin Club and the City of San Francisco has a current term of 25 years with an option to renew for an additional 24 years.  In contrast, the agreements between Sea Scouts and NPS have had a standard maximum term of 5 years.  Many times, an agreement with the NPS will expire years before a replacement offers some peace of mind for the scouts.  This fallow period was true prior to the most recent instrument—a Special Park Use Permit, just signed in June, 2024.  This current accord, like the 2009 Special Use Permit comes with a zinger.  The Sea Scouts must pay a use fee in the unprecedented amount of $18,000 per year and their hours of access to the Base are restricted unless they give 24 hours notice.

Iron bars installed for the Park Police outpost

The Maritime Park General Plan of 1997 says, “The Sea Scout base would be rehabilitated for continued use by the San Francisco Sea Scouts. In cooperation with the San Francisco Sea Scouts, the park would explore options to pro­vide sail training at the Sea Scout base.  An appropriate agreement would be established with the Sea Scouts for operation and use of the facility.”  When asked about the change in instruments from agreement to permit, Paul DePrey responded flatly that “The instrument now being used is a Special Park Use permit.  The park had a management review several years ago which determined that the previous agreement was not an appropriate instrument due to the substantive involvement aspect (among others).”  However, the recently expired Cooperative Agreement only committed the NPS to monitor Sea Scout operations and ensure compliance with statutory requirements.  To a lay observer, this hardly seems substantive involvement.

When asked why a General Agreement could not replace the expired Cooperative Agreement, DePrey points to a recent Director’s Order prohibiting “financial assistance in any form (including subsidizing) through a General Agreement” and refers to the use of “utilities such as electricity” as a subsidy.  However, the most recent agreement held the scouts solely accountable for all utilities (including electricity, water, sewer, telephone, and garbage disposal).  It also made them responsible for maintenance and repair of all the facilities used in their operation.  

The reason these responses seem confusing is that Superintendent DePrey is befuddled on the topic.  When asked for clarification, the Section Chief of NPS Financial Assistance states clearly, "General agreements effectively replaced MOUs [Memorandums of Understanding].  A General Agreement cannot be used to exchange funds. Substantial involvement is a condition of financial assistance cooperative agreements, not general agreements."  Of course, the decision to issue a Special Use Permit is a management decision and the NMHP is well within its power to decide how to engage with the scouts, but the visuals are not very attractive.

Despite ongoing shabby treatment by the NMHP, the San Francisco Sea Scouts continue to offer a healthy, thriving program predominantly serving kids from lower- and middle-income families.  May it long continue to do so.  And the rowing clubs can continue to thank Joan Brown and her intrepid group of friends for helping to keep us free of federal control.

Six Old Goats Set an English Channel World Record

 

 Duke Dahlin - Preamble

Duke Dahlin

The story of setting a new American record for swimming across the English Channel began about 26 years ago when I joined the Dolphin Club.  I just wanted to get as far away from Masters pool competition as I could. Outdoor swimming was more fun, exciting, and challenging. I joined a swim pod that consisted of Laura Burtch, Becky Fenson, John Selmer, and Heather Royer. Laura and John had already successfully swum the English Channel. Then Becky followed soon afterward. After Heather completed her Channel swim, I made my second attempt when I was 55 on August 8, 2003, and successfully finished in 14hrs 37mins. John Ottersberg was my coach on the escort boat Sea Satin piloted by Lance Oram from the Channel Swimming & Pilot Federation (CS&PF).

During the Polar Bear season of 2015-16, I had just retired from work and was thinking of another English Channel attempt. My goal was to be the oldest successful solo swimmer. Before I did that, I figured I needed to see where my mind and body were. In 2004, George Kebbe set a new PB record of 356 miles. Ralph Wenzel (2007) and Peter Perez (2013) both tied that number I had been thinking about breaking that record for years, but it would have to be by a lot.  My goal was 400 miles. 

After I set the new PB record, I kept mulling over another English Channel swim. I had heard several years ago that a 73-year-old man was the oldest successful Channel swimmer. I thought, okay I’ll wait until I’m 75. Why 75? I liked how the number sounded. In 2021, I started the process of booking my escort boat, the Sea Satin. I wanted to go with Lance again. I was given a swim window of August 16-22, 2023. In order to be totally prepared in 2021, I reserved a pilot boat for a Catalina Channel swim in 2021. 

My organization was coming together and I started to get excited. But my plans were thwarted by medical problems. The San Francisco Veterans Administration Medical Center did some tests and said I needed surgery on my left-rotator cuff, and repairs to the bicep. I canceled the Catalina swim and concentrated on the English Channel. By July 2022, the PT for my shoulder was going great, but I now had shortness of breath. I did a cardiovascular “stress test” and was diagnosed with Peripheral Arterial Disease. My VA doctor discovered that 95% of my left artery was blocked, and they put in a stent.  The doctors signed off on my English Channel solo swim, but my body and mind told me to reconsider.

After a lot of thought, on December 16, 2022, I decided I wasn’t ready for a solo crossing. With my continued shortness of breath, I moved forward with a backup plan—to organize a 6-person mixed relay team of people 70 and over.  Putting together a 70+ relay team from the DC wasn’t as easy I thought it would be. It wasn’t until May when the team was finalized and it was worth the wait. The final team consisted of Sunny McKee, Tom Neill, Julian Sapirstein, Joni Beemsterboer, John Hornor, and me. With no backups, this was our only shot at a world record. 

Team Feet in Dover

Both Sunny & Joni had previous EC relay experience from the 80s and 90s. Tom had swum both the Catalina Channel and the length of Lake Tahoe. Julian and John were a little less experienced, but one hundred percent committed. Our training started off rough. On March 11, three of our swimmers could not finish their 30-minute swim. But on the April 22 swim, everyone did a bit better. A rocky start to be sure. Then by June 27 I was surprised and relieved when all of us Old Goats completed the qualifier swim long before the conservative July 1 target date that I had set for us.

Julian Sapirstein, my husband Joel, and I arrived at Heathrow on August 12. That morning, I received a text from our pilot to ask if the team was ready. With Sunny and John arriving early in the afternoon, and Tom and Joni arriving later that evening, I knew we were. Lance asked that our team meet him at the Marina gate in Dover at 10:15pm August 15. It was an incredibly nervous and excited bunch of swimmers who met him that evening.

Once we got to the Sea Satin, Lance explained the rules and regulations, and introduced us to his crew, Tanya and Mia, and Martin, the official observer. We headed to Shakespeare Beach – about 30 minutes from Dover harbor. As the boat started to maneuver outside of the marina, we could feel it rocking dramatically back and forth and side to side.

Duke Dahlin - 11:10pm to 12:10am – 1^st hour 

Team at the Sea Satin
John Hornor, Joni Beemsterboer,
Julian Sapirstein, Tom Neil,
Sunny McKee, Duke

I must confess, I do not like swimming in the dark—especially when the water is choppy. The Sea Satin shined a beacon of light onto Shakespeare Beach to guide me. As the first swimmer, it was my job to find the beach, emerge completely from the water, and then officially start the swim. Finding a beach in the dark of night wasn’t all that easy even with the spotlight from the boat. But after a minute or so I walked onto land. The lights on the Sea Satin flashed, signaling me to begin. Deep breaths. Time to go.

The water temperature was very comfortable, maybe 65F, but the conditions made it difficult to stay calm and breathe comfortably. I thought about my commitment to the team and told myself to just stay relaxed, remain calm, and keep swimming. There were times when I was ahead of the boat, and times when I was slightly behind. During the first half of my swim, I learned to adapt to the speed of the boat and “go with the flow.” At the end of my hour, I was proud that I had persevered.

Sunny McKee - 12:10am to 1:10am – 2^nd hour 

The good news is when we met at 9:45 Tues. night, Aug. 15, the winds seemed to dissipate. I remember sending a text to my family that said “pretty clear and almost no wind.”  The myth of “almost no wind” was quickly dispelled as we left the calm waters of the protected harbor. It was a beautiful clear night though.

After Duke had swum for about 30 minutes, the observer went over the rules: the current swimmers must swim for one hour. The upcoming swimmer must be standing on the platform at 58 minutes, and when the siren goes off, the upcoming swimmer jumps in and floats behind the current swimmer. The current swimmer swims to the boat and exits the water. Any violation and it’s an instant disqualification. 

The siren goes off and I jump into the water. I have opted to have a spotlight from the boat on me while I swim. This was a mistake because I was truly blinded. The time signal that we had planned didn’t work because the spotlight was so blinding – I would have to stop swimming to really see the whiteboard with the time.  My constant mantra: “I do not want to cause our team to fail.”

One hour later, the siren sounds and I climb onboard so happy to be alive! The first person I see is Duke and we both start laughing and embrace. I laughed so hard. This was one of my favorite moments of this challenge.

Tom Neill - 1:10 to 2:10am – 3^rd hour

Tom in the Channel

The pilot boat was not well-lit onboard, and the darkness added to my nerves as I looked for
my equipment. It was simple: Just a cap, ear plugs, low light goggles and swim suit. I plunged in the dark choppy water.

I swam past Sunny, as she completed her first leg and was left alone in the dark with a few lights on the boat. Nerves and excitement pushed me along and soon I passed the bow and kept swimming into the darkness. I focused on my stroke. My attention was broken by shouts from the boat. I stopped and was told that I was swimming towards England. The boat turned me around and we headed back towards France.

It seemed like a very long leg, and I became impatient and tired of the repeated chop which caused me to exaggerate my rotation for air and repeatedly filled my nose with sea water. Finally, my hour was over. I did not hear the siren but did notice the light flashing across my face. I was very happy. 

Julian Sapirstein - 2:10 to 3:10am – 4^th hour 

That first swim was the hardest, starting in the pitch black and rough water. The boat was going in fits and starts, so sometimes it was ahead, sometimes behind and sometimes right beside me. Being ahead of the boat was particularly distressing because I didn't expect it and its location was not immediately obvious. The water was warm, so I didn't fear hypothermia, but the stress of night swimming took a toll and I was shivering when I got out at the end of the hour. The rough water and darkness had been a challenge, but I felt good after finishing, knowing that my next swim would be in daylight.

Joni Beemsterboer - 3:10 to 4:10am - 5^th hour

As Julian climbed aboard, I headed into the darkness. Soon the team shouted that I was too far out. The current made the correction difficult. There were moments when it felt like the water calmed and I could get into my rhythm only to be knocked by a wave or two. Some Channel swimmers report lumpiness in the water—an apt description. The goal is to find that swim zone that makes each stroke feel rewarding, satisfying and ideally productive. Such zones were fleeting. It was so damn dark.

John Hornor - 4:10am to 5:10am – 6^th hour

I’d mostly recovered from partial knee replacement (12/10/21) and rotator cuff repair (5/6/22) but recovery had limited my usual exercise routine, so after I said yes to Duke’s invitation to join the relay team I knew I had to get in shape. I joined the USF Masters swim program at Koret with coach Chris Wagner, started weight training, and stopped drinking alcohol.

The sky was brightening with first light as I jumped off the stern of the Sea Satin into the dark, 63-degree Channel. I swam into position behind Joni and officially started my first leg. I was confident, happy to be finally swimming. I got lost in my stroke, started daydreaming, and before I knew it Tom was waving his arms.

Duke Dahlin - 5:10 to 6:10am – 7^th hour

It’s so nice to swim in daylight!  It seems after John’s swim, the wind started to pick up again. From time to time, I would swallow some Channel. The spectacular sun was rising on my left. I could see Julian with the lap counter onboard the boat letting me know how much time had passed. Having this information was a big relief.  There were times when I caught up to the Sea Satin, got ahead, and swam at the bow like a dolphin. Then I’d slow down so I didn’t get too far ahead. My second swim was about over, and it would have been bittersweet if we reached France before I could swim another leg.

Sunny McKee - 6:10 to 7:10am – 8^th hour

I entered the water and realized the wind had picked up again. Bummer! And, lucky me, there were jellyfish! Some were very long. One wrapped around me and stung my leg, and another got my neck. My first thought was, “Great, I’m going to get stung so much that I’ll have a reaction and die!” I wondered if I was allergic. 

The channel was so choppy, I spent the rest of the swim swallowing water and dodging jellyfish. At least there was daylight. Again, I told myself to shut up and keep swimming.  I finished my second swim, happy to be done and still alive. The jellyfish stings stopped hurting; they weren’t so bad in retrospect.

Tom Neill - 7:10 to 8:10am – 9^th hour

I was eager to touch the water again and glad to be swimming with the sun. Moderate wind continued and I struggled to take a breath without swallowing water. I anticipated the end of my leg and slowed when Julian passe by and I was quickly back to the stern, up the ladder, and on deck where I was surprised to see how close we were to the lighthouse on Cap Griz Nez, the point that reaches out into the Channel and marks the part of France closest to Dover. I was hopeful that we would finish in the next two hours. I went down to the cabin and lay on a bed in the boat’s bow.  When I returned to the deck an hour or two later to watch my swimmer, I noticed that land looked further away. 

Julian Sapirstein - 8:10 to 9:10am – 10^th hour

My second swim was much easier—full daylight and the water was much less choppy. I can't say it was fun though. It was more a matter of just slogging along until the hour was up. I noted a few ships off in the distance when I breathed to the right or when I breathed to the left when I was ahead of the boat. I felt fine when I finished, not cold like after the first time.

Joni Beemsterboer - 9:10 to 10:10am – 11^th hour

At the end of my second leg, I maneuvered to be close enough to the boat to make a quick transition so that the pilot could speed on to the new swimmer. On this leg I lost my anti-nausea patch. Once onboard I felt queasy and tried to stay horizontal. Sunny fed me ginger which helped, as did mumbling to myself.

John Hornor - 10:10 to 11:10am – 12^th hour

Sunshine! Warming water! Nothing to worry about now—just the swim. I imagined looking down from space and watching myself as a tiny dot somewhere in the middle of the English Channel. Suddenly shouts of “you’re drifting too far away!” brought me back to earth. I focused on form—not letting my left arm cross over the midline. I recalled Chris Wagner’s advice: “Railroad tracks all the way to France” Suddenly Tom’s arms are waving, and it's time for Duke.

Duke Dahlin 11:10 to 12:10pm – 13^th hour

After Joni and John finish their swim, we can see France. Martin tells us we are at a point in the Channel for solo swimmers called “The Graveyard of Dreams.” It’s a place of strong currents and rougher water, and you are being pushed north away from the closest point. Martin had told us now we needed to swim hard as possible to make it to shore.

 Again, I was so glad to be swimming in daylight. It was kind of bumpy out there. I finally saw the lap counter indicating I had 11 minutes left. And before I knew it, 2 minutes. I heard the siren and yells of my team mates to get out. 

Sunny McKee – 12:10 to 1:10pm – 14^th hour

I jump in and swim as hard as I can. It was very choppy, and I ended up swallowing lots of water. I focused on the whiteboard, never looking up at our destination. This leg felt different because I didn’t think I was going to die. I was just concentrating on swimming as hard as I could. I really wanted to get to France, but I felt like I wasn’t getting any closer. I pushed myself to keep swimming, despite this sinking feeling, and soon it was Tom’s turn. It looked to me like we were no closer to France.

Tom Neill – 1:10 to 2:10pm – 15^th hour

I jumped off the boat on Martin’s signal and swam past Sunny for my third leg. The water was as choppy as before. The boat was not keeping a steady pace. I was at the bow and then the stern in repeated cycles. At one point I was thirty yards ahead of the boat and I stopped because I did not want to repeat my nighttime experience of swimming towards England. 

Towards the end of the hour, I noticed that the captain was lowering a small, motorized inflatable, which he had said he would deploy when we approached land. I was elated. Soon, Martin signaled the end of my swim. I looked up to see the texture of French black and white cliffs in great detail. I climbed the ladder and watched the end of the swim from the deck.

  

 Julian Sapirstein 2:10 to 2:19pm – 16^th hour

John and Julian in France

Tom’s leg ended a few hundred yards from France and I was ecstatic to be able to finish. This time I swam without the boat beside me and headed straight for shore. We just missed a beautiful sandy beach and had nothing but rocky shore for a landing. I didn’t care, but I feared getting beat up on the rocks.  The waves weren’t big, but they were high enough to pose a risk so I was very careful. There were a lot of rocks just under the water, which was going up and down, so I would grab a submerged rock, stabilize myself and pull myself forward to the next rock until I got to the edge of the water. By that time, I was pretty cut up and was bleeding a fair amount but I was so thrilled to be in France that I didn’t care. John Hornor joined me on the rocks and we celebrated.  On the boat, I was bleeding all over the deck but no problem. The deck is designed to take things like blood and wash them off.

Official Time: 15 Hours 09 Minutes (CS&PF Website)
Oldest English Channel Mixed Relay Team in the World

This swim wouldn’t be possible without the support of our families, friends, members of the SF Dolphin Club and USF Masters swim coach Chris Wagner. Thank you to the amazing Sea Satin escort boat captain Lance Oram, crew Tanya and Mia, and official observer Martin for keeping us swimming safely crossing the English Channel.