I escaped Alcatraz!!

 

TL;DR: I did it. I swam from Alcatraz.

The long story....

6am on September 5th (Labor Day) came early. I slept poorly the night before, up for about an hour in the middle of the night ruminating on the swim.  The doubts had started to creep in.  Was my "no plan" training plan really enough training? Was the jump going to scare me and I'd freeze? Was I just simply out of my mind for thinking my body could do a swim like this?  All the doubts crept in.  My friend Carrie had said to me that "once you jump off the boat, you don't have a lot of choice but to swim to shore". I kept that in mind, figuring I would take it one step (or jump) at a time and probably make it.

I know I'm a slower swimmer. I used to only swim breast stroke, but for this event I knew I'd need to do more freestyle (or crawl, as some call it), which is a faster stroke. So I trained about 60/40 free/breast with the hopes of having a fast enough time to not get "repositioned" by the event organizers. If you are unable to swim fast enough to make the currents, they will use a jet ski with a sled behind it to reposition you and keep you from being swept out to sea. I feared repositioning, but I also knew there was a chance it would happen, and I wouldn't fight it if it did.

After a quick breakfast of cheese and crackers, I met my friends Erin and Alex in the hotel lobby, and, along with my (camera shy, not on social media) spouse, we walked over to the start. (notice Erin's Nicholas Cage in the Rock custom swimsuit in this pre swim photo).

We did packet pick up, I wrote "It's my 50th birthday" on my cap, we lubed up with body glide, found the other Seattle swimmers who we knew (Heidi and Cheryl) and took in the atmosphere.  They made announcements about the course, telling us that it was probably the best conditions imaginable and to sight on the two large condo buildings that are just up from Ghirardelli square. They reminded us to jump and then quickly swim out of the way, but also to pause at some point and take in the beauty of San Francisco from the water. The water was 64*. The Bay Area was having a heat wave, with highs predicted in the 80s. The winds were calm, and I was too. I was surprised at how not nervous I was.  Everyone who had asked me if I was ready on the days leading up had gotten the answer "I'm waffling between being positive I can do it and being scared out of my mind." But that morning, I was calm.

The procession to the ferry was led by a bagpiper. We walked the four blocks through the city streets. I felt bad for those staying at hotels along the way. It was 8:00 and we were LOUD. 

Heidi had gotten us great seats on the ferry, so we could relax. The ferry ride was short, and as we arrived at Alcatraz, we saw the huge gang of kayakers, paddle boarders, and jet skis that would accompany us on the swim. They started to have us line up to jump, then said they were going to delay the swim 10 min while we waited for the Alcatraz ferry to dock and let off passengers.  We sat back down.  The conversation on the ferry was mostly about how beautiful of a day it was and how lucky we were. I started to get a little nervous, but figured I was pretty much committed at this point. The 10 min went by quickly and it came time to line up for the jump again. It was perfect, they wanted us in threes, so Erin, Alex and I could go together! (that's Alex's splash on the left, Erin Center, and me to the right). 

And then we swam, quickly, out of the way (you can see the next jumpers- Heidi and Cheryl here, I'm swimming out of the way top center, with Erin to the left of the frame)

The water felt cold, but not shockingly so. And as I swam out of the way, I thought, wow, I'm actually doing this (and that no one tells you about the swimsuit wedgie you get from jumping!!).  As Carrie said, there is nothing to do now but swim to shore.

The jump gave me an adrenaline rush, and I had a hard time catching my breath. So I decided to start breast stroke. I often ease into a swim with a lot of breast stroke (or swim the whole way breast) so it was a natural fit for me. I could look around at the other swimmers, the island of Alcatraz, the kayakers and the city, and get my bearings. After a few min I tried to swim free, but realized I was still panting, and needed to calm my breathing. So more breast. It took about three tries and five minutes for me to be able to recover my breathing and sustain free. But I did, I got a good pace going, breathing every second or fourth stroke (no, I'm not great at Bilateral Breathing) and sighting on the condos, which were easy to see from the water.

The crowd around me thinned out. I knew I'd be at the back of the pack eventually, and wasn't too worried about it. I chose this version of the Alcatraz swim in part because there was no cut off time. Occasionally a kayaker or paddle boarder would check in on me, ask me how I was doing. I always said it was a lovely day for a swim, and they'd agree. Once a swimmer coming at a different trajectory than mine almost kicked me in the face. I tapped her foot to let her know I was there. She apologized and swam on.

I tried to focus on reflecting on what it means to be 50, but I couldn't really hold a thought in my head. It was more "swim, just swim."

At one point there was a warm current, and immediately three large (dinner plate sized) and really beautiful jellyfish. I wondered to myself if this type of jelly stings or not. They looked like the kind from Puget Sound that don't sting, but I didn't know for sure if they were the same or not. (a quick google search now shows that they are probably the same genus but a different species). They were awe inspiring, and, because I didn't know if they sting or not, a bit frightening. Every time, for the rest of the swim, that I went through a warm current, I'd look for them.  I didn't see any again.

I thought about my family that had come to San Francisco to cheer for me. My parents, cousins, and spouse. I went through each one, thinking about how much I love them, and what they mean to me.

I did stop, three times, to look at the view and admire the city. I thought about my grand mother Estelle (of blessed memory) who taught me at a young age which island was Alcatraz from her window on Gerry street. The Transamerica Pyramid, Salesforce Tower, Coit Tower, and both the Golden Gate and Bay bridges were visible. The skies were clear, and the city was beautiful.

About two thirds of the way from Alcatraz to the Aquatic Park entrance, a kayaker came up to me and asked me how I was doing. I replied that I was fine. He said "you are a bit off course, so we are going to assign you a swim angel to swim with you, and we are going to reset your course".  Over the next 20  min or so, they proceeded to change my sighting point no fewer than 8 times.  The condo buildings, the wall that is around the Aquatic Park, the middle mast on the sailboat, and the entrance to the Aquatic Park all became sighting guides at some point. 

At first I resented the help, wanting to do it myself. Then I realized that all good distance swimmers have a team, including an excellent boat pilot to give them the shortest swim line possible given the weather conditions. So I came to appreciate them. Zach, the swimmer, and the kayaker whose name I never learned. Zach was able to pace me doing breast stroke (to my free) and he'd communicate with the kayaker, who could see the impact that current had on swimmers ahead of me, and tell me when to change course.  The currents in this part of the bay are often what Heidi calls "frogger" currents, coming first from one side, then from the other, in such a way that swimming a straight line is not possible.

With Zach at my side, I did a lot less breast stroke than I'd anticipated doing. I started to feel my neck chafe and tried to adjust my swim cap, but realized it wasn't the cap rubbing, but skin against skin instead. Not a lot I could do about that.

With a strong push through the west sweeping current, I entered the aquatic park. I turned to thank Zach and the Kayaker, but both were gone. On to help another swimmer I guess (just like Pete's dragon!). 

Once in the Aquatic Park a kayaker said to me "only 200 more meters to go". That's great, but since I haven't been in a pool since COVID, I have no real sense of how far that is!  The currents were stronger in the Aquatic Park than I'd expected them to be, but I pushed on. Did a little breast stroke to help my family identify me, and swam in.  As I rounded the sailboat parked in the middle of the park, I saw the famous Ghirardelli Chocolate sign from the water. I knew that a LARGE ice cream was awaiting me that afternoon.

I could hear the folks on shore yelling. I even heard a "happy birthday" as my feet touched the sandy bottom and I ran out of the water.

There were folks there to help me off with my timing chip, and to give me a metal! And more importantly, there were my parents, spouse, cousins, and friends all there with hugs and high fives.

I was strong coming out of the water. Not disoriented or dizzy at all. Other than the chafing on my neck, there was no ill effect. My body was TIRED the rest of the day and most of the next, but I was able to walk through Fisherman's Warf and hang out with friends and family. 

All those middle of the night doubts were for nothing. I was able to do the swim, finish in almost the time I predicted (I predicted 90 min it took me 94- and generally times were slow this year), and love every minute of it. This is what 50 looks like!