How to climb a mountain – by jumping off a boat

Triathlons consist of swimming, biking and running – that’s no secret. My particular struggle is the swim. Only three years back, I learned how to do front crawl properly, and I am just about getting comfortable swimming in a lake. The Escape from Alcatraz, however, requires a 1.5 mile swim from Alcatraz to the Saint Francis Yacht Club in San Francisco Bay. Many stories rank around escapes from Alcatraz prison and there are no successful escapes reported, only three men who disappeared and are presumed dead or enjoying their life in South America, no one knows. Three factors are mainly responsible for the lack of successful escapes: fog, frigid waters and strong currents in the bay. Not forgetting bottom dwelling sharks and the unruly sea lions. So here I was, the novice swimmer, who had never been swimming in the sea, let alone anything with a current attempting what no prisoner on The Rock had accomplished: to swim across to the shore. I was petrified. I needed help and a practice run before the race.

Through various people I had heard about Pedro. The name popped up all over the place. Just how to find him? At an open water swim session, I finally go the details and as soon as I was home, I googled “Waterworld Swim San Francisco” – and tad ah! Pedro! I looked through their schedule: a bay crossing the day before the race, ehrrr… no. But Friday morning, there was a swim clinic with three short swims in the Bay and advice on sighting and how to best race the bay. Deep sigh of relief. At least I would not go completely unprepared into the race and, more importantly, I could have a swim in the bay with help and support close by, just in case. Still, I was scared out of my wits.

Friday morning, 6 am. I walked out the door of my friend’s flat, down the steep hill and up Union to Hyde. On top of Hyde you have the most gorgeous view of Alcatraz. There it was, sitting in the middle of the bay. That’s where I would go.

Fortunately, the weather gods were kind and it did not rain and there were no winds. I got to the meeting point, where already a group of participants was assembled. Then the coaches and Pedro arrived. I let them know that I had never been in the sea and they promised to keep an eye out for me and gave me some extra advice, mainly to stay calm, breathe and if anything happened to roll on my back and raise my arm. A coach would always be close by. I already felt better.

Pedro gave a brief introduction about the crossing from Alcatraz using poster on how the swim was supposed to work. It all sounded so easy: head straight for the two apartment towers, then aim for the trees of Fort Mason, then the yellow piers of Fort Mason, then the yellow dome, the red roof of the yacht club – Done! I was not so sure if this was, well, it.

The small band of us climbed onto the “Dauntless”, the ship that would take us out for our swims. It did feel a bit like "Pirates of the Caribbean", thinking we were going to a former prison island. The closer I came to the ship, the more daunted I felt. However, everyone was so friendly and upbeat that my thoughts got distracted. The chat circled around more practical things of the swim: neoprene boots, nah… any self-respecting Bay swimmer goes without, they just fill up with water and the isolating benefits are marginal. Really? I decided to keep them on for my first swim and then try without on my second. The next piece of advice was to put ear plugs in, the waxy stuff that seals your ear. One of the reasons people get dizzy is because their inner ear gets cold and numb. A bit sceptical, I got some of the waxy stuff and put it in my ears. Next followed instructions on how to jump in the water: legs in a scissor kick, arms stretched out, except for the one that holds your goggles. Then I learned my own little mantra: As soon as you are in the water, SWIM, get away from the boat. All the while, we were drawing closer to Alcatraz.

I have to say, it looked rather majestic and the Golden Gate Bridge shone red in all its glory. We pulled around the back of Alcatraz, the water there is a bit calmer and we were protected from the big boat that was coming. I had a bit of a frozen smile on my face, my thoughts were racing. This was it… no turning back, the jump was here!

After everyone had jumped into the water and seemed to have a good time, I carefully clambered up the stairs to the side of the boat. I peeked down, oh dear! For nearly a minute I stood there, helplessly saying: “Oh God, oh God, oh God” over and over again, while at the same time thinking that someone might eventually give me a push. But no such thing happened. I had to do it, all by myself. Turning back was not really an option and on race day I had to jump, too. I thought of all the people who had supported me, chickening would be so disappointing. Ok, come on now… after all this isn't the Titanic and there are no icebergs. Arms out, one hand to goggles, take a step forward so you’re in a scissor kick. A step, a tiny scream! I plunged towards the water. Within split seconds, I expected the cold water and the normal reaction of my body, that millisecond cardiac arrest. Instead, all I noticed was the salty taste of the water. I came up, spitting out the mouthful I had caught. All the while, my thoughts circled back and forth between swim, salty, swim, salty… my heart racing, I started to swim in the direction we had been told, towards the little Hershey’s Kisses lookalike island. This wasn’t so bad, I moved through the water, rotating my upper body nicely which made breathing infinitely easier, sighting for the island – and not seeing much in the water, fortunately. Once something nudged me on my leg. Oh god! A shark! A sea lion! A fish! I forced myself to be calm: Person, Christine, person!

Eventually, we were told to get back to the boat. I started swimming towards it. So far, I had not noticed the currents much, bar an occasional cold rush of water, which I figured must be the current. The boat was straight ahead so I paddled towards it. Stroke, breathe, sight, stroke, breathe… uh, why was the boat moving away from me?! What are they doing? Eventually it dawned on me; the boat was dragged out by the current. Furiously kicking and crawling with my arms, I made it to the boat and more or less fell into the inside after climbing the ladder – exhilarated and a bit teary. I had done it! My first sea swim! And it was good! All smiles we chatted about our experience, while the boat pulled round to the start line. The picture below gives an idea of what it looked like in terms of distance and landmarks for sighting all the way down to the finish line.

Pedro and the other coaches explained the next swim, what to aim for, how the currents worked and just reiterating how to best address the start from the boat and the swim. For me, it was important to get into a regular rhythm of breathing and sighting and keeping it steady. I already felt more confident and the ear plugs really had worked a treat. We all got ready for our second jump when the captain of the boat called over his shoulder that a big container ship had just come by and that we should expect 6ft tall waves. But hey, no panic! Ha! He was joking, right? Right?! I thought they would wait until those waves had passed, but errr…no. The swimmers hopped off the boat. I took the neoprene socks off quickly and clambered on the side. Arm out, hold goggles, deep breath, scissor kick – hop! I kept my mouth close this time and felt all the better for it.

Start swimming! Ok, ok… on I went towards the Fontana towers, occasionally looking back towards Alcatraz, which just sat there quite stunning in the morning sun. All of a sudden, I was high up in the air. My heart jumped! Oh dear! What?! How?! I plunged down and immediately got lifted up again. I squeaked – with joy! This was the 6ft wave and it was ace! Although I did feel like a bit of a helpless bundle, feeling the power of the water that so easily tossed me up in the air. I continued on towards the towers. Still not noticing the current much and returning to the boat when told. My bare feet felt absolutely fine in the water and so I decided there and then, that I would swim without them. Really, not so bad, this.

On our way to our last jump, we bombarded the coaches with questions: when to turn towards the yellow dome, to which side of the temporary buoy to be, where not to be, when to call for assistance if it went pear shaped. The last swim consisted of the finish, swimming to the shore and then coming back to the boat. This time, I was not last in the water. It all went way quicker, climb ladder, googles, arm, breath, scissor, plunge, swim, swim, swim! I enjoyed this, although towards the finish, the sea got choppier because the waves were rolling onto the shore. Full of joy, I clambered onto my feet when my hand hit the sand and did a little wriggle Baywatch run onto the shore, waving my hands in the air like a maniac. The people on the boat were waving too – urging us to come back, and quick. So I practiced the Baywatch start, running into the waves and plunging head first into the water when it was knee deep (I need to work on the slow motion though).

Working my way back to the boat was way more difficult than expected. This was when I effectively noticed the pulling power of the water. While before, I had not really detected the currents and how they affected the swim, I had to work really hard to keep in line with the boat and to stay stationary until it was my turn to climb the ladder. The current was strong, make no mistake. And despite the surge in confidence the swim had given me and the security that I knew what to aim for on the swim and how to make it to the shore, the strength of the pull kept that little flame of caution burning slowly, which personally I think is not a bad thing. You should never underestimate the forces of nature and caution and respect will get you further than being overly confident.

With a big grin on my face, I was back on the boat. The coaches were delighted with my swims and how I had gotten on.

Back on dry land, I learned what “the claw” is. My fingers just would not tie my shoe laces. Note to self: get a second pair of lock laces for my second pair of trainers to minimize dexterity problems when exiting the water. I decided that I needed a big breakfast and most of all, something hot to drink. A lively group of athletes from St. Louis said they would head to the Buena Vista Café to finish the swim with breakfast and Irish coffee. And even though I was not quite sure, if Irish coffee was the smartest choice, I went for it and the biggest breakfast I could find on the menu. I deserved it. On this swim, I had climbed my mountain by jumping from a boat, tossed the neoprene booties, and learned the value of ear plugs.