Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [136]
From there, I decided to attempt a swim that had been suggested to me years before, by two Israeli composers: a trip along the Gulf of Aqaba from Egypt to Israel, and then another from Israel to Jordan. The swims would trace the process of Middle East peace. Getting permission for this project proved to be complex and difficult, but Tom Pickering, who had been the U.S. ambassador to both Israel and Jordan, gave me guidance, and eventually I gained support from Queen Noor of Jordan, Yitzhak Rabin of Israel, and high-ranking officials in Egypt.
Working out the logistics for the swims turned out to be a challenge, but when we discovered that peace talks were under way in Eliat, Israel, between officials from Israel and Jordan, my crew and I walked into the hotel where the talks were being held, found out who was in charge of the talks, and met with them. That day we received permission, and a day later, with Egyptian navy and Israeli navy support, I made the seven-mile swim from Egypt to Israel.
The following day, the Israeli navy and the Jordanian navy, working together, supported my swim. For the first time in forty-six years, the Jordanian navy welcomed the Israeli navy, opening the border for my support crew as I swam to Aqaba. There we were welcomed and honored at a reception hosted by Queen Noor. A few days later, we were invited to witness King Hussein, President Clinton, and Prime Minister Rabin sign the peace treaty between Israel and Jordan.
In 1999 I decided to do a series of swims simply for fun. Ever since I had met the pope, and he had mentioned that his favorite place to swim was in the northern lakes of Italy, I’d wanted to swim there too. So with a group of friends, I traveled to Italy and I swam across Lake Garda, Lake Como, and Lake Maggiore. We ate Italian chocolates, listened to a friend sing opera, and immersed ourselves in reflections of Italian villas as we crossed the lakes, completely enjoying the entire journey. There was nothing challenging about these swims—no political complexities or intrigue, and no physical barriers—and while I enjoyed doing them, just for the sake of experiencing them, I felt somewhat let down. I wanted to do so much more. An idea came to mind then, one that was bigger, more complex, and more challenging than any I had ever contemplated.
23
Swimming to Antarctica
Cody, my yellow Labrador, pulled my tennis shoe out from under my bed and followed me downstairs. He saw me set my bags down in the hallway, and he lay down in the living room with his chin resting on my shoe. He looked at me with imploring eyes.
“I’m sorry, Cody, you can’t go with me. When dogs go to Antarctica they either freeze to death or get eaten by their best friends. Amundsen, Scott, Cherry-Garrard, Shackleton—all of them shot their dogs and ate them. I’m sorry, Antarctica’s no place for you.”
Sara, my parents’ brindled whippet, raced downstairs and stretched out beside him, something she had never done before. She had come to say good-bye. I hugged my dad and he returned the hug tightly— I think he was too emotional to speak. The previous year I had planned to travel to Antarctica to attempt the swim, but my father had been very ill, and I hadn’t wanted to leave him. He’d had to fight for his life. It was awful, and yet it was enlightening, being with him while he went through this siege. He always maintained a positive attitude, never wavered, and never gave up on living. Neither did my mother, who was by his side throughout the whole battle. They didn’t know it, but they were my heroes. Seeing their determination to hold on to life and live it fully made me realize that I had the same drive within myself. As far as I knew, I would be here only once, and I wanted to live as much as I could.
My mother hugged me. Her voice was rich with emotion as she said, “I know you will accomplish what you want to. Good luck.”
She had really come around. When I’d first told her and