Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [142]
A man in civilian clothes entered the headquarters. He explained in fluent English that he was a shipping agent and was there to translate. He asked me what I was doing. I explained that I was just swimming in the harbor. I had been there twelve years before to swim across the Beagle Channel and had done it with the support of the Argentine navy. Admiral López and Captain Alvarez had been in charge of the swim.
The shipping agent interpreted. The men from the coast guard shook their heads with disbelief. One of them said something. “No one could have swum across the Beagle Channel,” the man in civilian clothes translated.
“In 1992 I became the first person to swim it. I swam from Ushuaia to Puerto Williams. Admiral López was in command, and Captain Alvarez was in charge of the swim,” I repeated.
They still didn’t believe me, so I dropped it, realizing that arguing with them wasn’t going to help.
The man in charge said something to the shipping agent and he interpreted for me: “You are not allowed to swim in the harbor without a permit.”
“Who do I need to talk with to get a permit?” I asked.
The shipping agent mentioned a name. It was the name of an officer from the coast guard I had met twelve years ago when I was going to swim the Beagle. How wonderful it would be to see him again.
The shipping agent told me to come back on Sunday, the following day or during the week; I could get a permit at that time. The tall man and the shipping agent offered to drive me back to the Albatross Hotel.
People turned and stared when they saw me jogging through the lobby of the hotel and racing upstairs. I think I stood under the hot shower for forty-five minutes; I was cold to the core. I packed my bags and moved to the Los Niros Hotel, where I would be staying with the crew that evening. All day long, I hiked around the city, burning off energy, anticipating their arrival.
When I saw my crew entering the baggage-claim area at Ushuaia Airport, I was so excited. The baggage claim was on the other side of a floor-to-ceiling glass wall. There was a sign that said NO ENTRY, but there wasn’t any security. Susan Sklar kept waving at me. Finally, she came over to the sliding doors and I explained that I didn’t want to get arrested twice in one day. My excitement grew each time I saw one of my friends. Everyone was there. As they came through the glass doors we hugged. Yes, it was really happening. We were finally together and almost on our way.
The next morning, with the help of an Argentine woman named Gabriella who worked for the Bureau of Tourism, my crew and the CBS crew met with the coast guard officials. Gabriella acted as our translator. Because I was writing a story about the swim for The New Yorker, and because CBS’s 60 Minutes II was doing a segment on it, we could not tell the coast guard about my plan to swim in Antarctica. We were concerned that other members of the media would pick up on the story. Through Gabriella, we told one of the coast guard officials that CBS was doing a documentary on me. They wanted to film me swimming in Ushuaia Harbor. The coast guard official said they would like to help. They said their only concern was for my safety, and they offered to provide us with a Zodiac escort boat, a driver, and a rescue swimmer. They wanted to know if I had a doctor who could accompany me. Gabriella Miotto, one of the team physicians, immediately offered to sign a release form stating I was in good health. As we walked to the harbor, they drove the boat over, and I slid into the water and began my training swim. The two men from the coast guard in the Zodiac couldn’t believe I could swim in forty-degree water.
For the first time I could swim a quarter of a mile offshore, through the harbor, in clear, clean water. I could explore the city and mountains