The 1st Annual BIG SWIM

Megan Miley, September 18, 2004

I was lucky to be a part of a group that swam relay-style from Santa Cruz Island to Santa Barbara, a total of 22 nautical miles. The event began as an idea of Emilio Casanuevo, a dedicated year-round ocean swimmer, as a fundraiser for the Community Environmental Council’s (CEC) clean water programs. Emilio and the CEC worked hard to plan this first-of-its-kind event. The logistics of securing insurance, scheduling over 50 swimmers and 14 kayakers, allowing the media to participate without being stuck on the boat for 20 hours, and planning the greeting party for our arrival, posed many challenges.

We boarded the Conception, a commercial dive boat, about 9 pm Friday night and left the dock around 10:30 pm. The journey to Santa Cruz Island was fairly uneventful. It was cool but not cold, and a little rough. Many people got seasick, but fortunately I was not one of them. I had been sick on one of the practice swims, so had come prepared with a patch behind my ear, acupressure sea bands, and lots of ginger. I dozed a little on the deck with my parka on top of me.

Our destination was Cueva Valdez Anchorage, below Santa Cruz’ highest peak, Picacho Diablo. We arrived just after midnight. It took almost an hour to organize the first swimmer, the support kayaks, and the underwater film crew from The Ocean Channel. Finally, the skiff left the Conception and took our first swimmer, Daniel, to shore. We stayed a couple hundred yards offshore, and watched from the boat with a powerful spotlight. We could see a little speck of a person on the beach and the massive cliffs towering above him. At about 1:00 am, to great cheers from the boat, Daniel dove in and started swimming. He was flanked on each side by a kayaker, and followed underwater by the photographer.

For safety while it was dark, we put in just one swimmer for each 20-minute shift. I was 4th in. I had a glow stick on my swim cap, and one around each wrist. Although I enjoyed seeing the wrists of the previous swimmer as he stroked, I wondered if these low lights might act as a lure for curious fish. The kayakers accompanying me had glow sticks attached to their boats, and headlamps to light their path. There was a bright light on the boat a couple hundred yards ahead for me to sight. Overall the low lights gave me comfort without making me feel we were shouting out the darkness. The water temperature was a comfortable 70° – about as warm as we could hope for.

My concerns about the glow bracelets attracting fish turned out to be unwarranted. There was little to see in the water while I swam. It was surprisingly peaceful. The glow sticks on my wrists added to the bioluminescence in the water to make my bubbles sparkle with each stroke. I could see the beam of light from the kayakers’ lamps shine through the empty water. Occasionally other bioluminescent creatures would float under me, like fireflies in the sea. The water carried unseen swells that would lift me unexpectedly, and sometimes steal my opportunity to take a breath. When the skiff brought the next swimmer, I was relieved and a little disappointed; relieved that my shift passed uneventful, and disappointed that it was over. As I returned to the Conception, dolphins zipped by within a few feet of the skiff, leaving a trail of bioluminescence.

When I got back on the big boat, friends were waiting with a dry towel and a hot cup of miso soup. I changed into dry, warm clothes and stayed on deck to watch my friends swim, then went below to sleep until I sensed the boat stop around 7:00 am. I arose to daylight, fog, a calm ocean, and a lovely breakfast. We had made it through the shipping lanes.

The boat stopped to get organized for our day shifts. In daylight, we put four swimmers and nine kayakers in the water for each shift: two kayakers for each swimmer plus one. We tried to group the swimmers according to speed, but it was difficult to stay together.
Several hours passed before my next shift. The mood on the boat was cheerful. The food was good. The water was glassy (but not flat), and we were ahead of schedule. Several pods of dolphins passed through, but kept their distance from the swimmers.

My second shift was again amazing but uneventful. The water was a deep royal blue with exceptional visibility. I saw no sea life, but the vastness of the deep water was a different experience for me. No land, no bottom. Just water. Stroke, breathe, water.

About half the distance to the mainland, we were 3 hours ahead of schedule. Although this seemed like a great accomplishment, it presented some logistical problems. First, there was a media boat planning to meet us a few miles from shore; second, many friends and family members were scheduled to board a second boat for appetizers, cocktails, and a prime view of our final ¼ mile; and third, there would be a greeting party and potluck dinner on the beach awaiting our 6:30 pm arrival. 3 hours ahead of schedule wasn’t going to work.

As we envisioned swimming in circles for 3 hours, our conditions changed. The mainland came into view, the sun broke through the fog, and the wind picked up. The water changed from glassy with swells to choppy with bigger swells. As if in answer to our scheduling problem, our progress slowed. My third swimming shift was different – the ocean reminded me that it is stronger than I am (not that I ever doubted this). It was even harder for each group to stay together and I was thankful that I had 2 kayakers with me. At times I couldn’t see the other kayakers or the boat. It was hard to set my direction when sometimes I couldn’t see past the next swell.
 
At last we found ourselves ¼ mile from the beach. This is where we would wait, but our 3-hour wait had been whittled down to just over an hour. I was wet from my last shift, but didn’t change because we were going back in the water to swim the final ¼ mile as a group. The wind was chilly and for the first time, I was cold. We waited, we told jokes, we congratulated each other and ourselves, and expressed appreciation to Emilio, the CEC, the volunteer doctor, yoga teacher, masseuse, chiropractor, and fabulous cook, Katie. We waited, and we huddled together for warmth.

Finally the Condor arrived with those who were invited or paid to celebrate and witness the last leg of our journey. We gave them an enthusiastic wave and “whoop,” filed into the water from both sides of the boat, and swam to shore.

We had a potluck dinner and a short awards ceremony. Each swimmer, kayaker, and volunteer crew received a medal. I often laugh at how seriously my children covet their event medals and ribbons. Yet I felt uncharacteristically proud of this particular swimming medal – what we did was extraordinary and I had truly earned it.