Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [146]
I had been sitting still in the cabin, focusing on my breathing, working on staying calm and relaxed. Barry came down to my room and threaded a short rope through the top of my swimsuit and tied it in a double knot. It would serve as a handhold in case he needed to pull me into the boat. As backup, Bob had made a lasso, which he gave to Dan, because he would be closer to me in his Zodiac. If Dan couldn’t grab the loop on my suit, he could leap into the water himself, slip the lasso over my head and shoulders, tighten it under my arms, drag me back to the boat, and inflate his dry suit to bring me to the surface, after which the crew would pull me into the boat.
At the ship’s door, I pulled off my shoes, then took off my sweat suit and folded it. I held on to the railing and walked slowly down the ramp, so I wouldn’t slip and fall. I stepped outside the icebreaker. Glacial winds hit my body at thirty knots. The hairs on my arms and neck stood up as goose bumps raced up my legs and back and out along my arms. My skin turned red. The Zodiacs were moving into position, one on either side of a platform at the base of the long ramp, and one out in front. In their three layers of heavy clothes and waterproof outer gear, I could not distinguish one crew member from another, but I knew they would be where they were supposed to be. Martha Kaplan and Bob Griffith were in the lead Zodiac. They would be watching for killer whales, leopard seals, icebergs, and brash ice. Adam Ravetch, who was shooting the underwater footage for the story for CBS’s 60 Minutes II, would also be watching the water and let us know if he saw anything.
If Martha or Bob spotted a killer whale while I was swimming, the crew member from Quark Expeditions who was operating the Zodiac would radio the other two Zodiac drivers in the boats that would be on either side of me. If the orca or leopard seal was moving in close and looked threatening, the crew would immediately pull me out of the water.
None of us knew how long I could swim. None of us knew how I would react to water temperatures ranging from thirty-three to thirty-five degrees. None of us knew if I would push too far without realizing it. Dr. Gabriella Miotto was in the Zodiac to my left, and she would be watching me to make sure I wasn’t becoming disoriented or losing fine motor control, letting my fingers splay. Dr. Laura King and Dr. Susan Sklar, in the Zodiac to my right, would observe me during the swim, taking water temperatures and measuring my stroke rate—counting the number of strokes I was taking each minute to see if I was on or off pace. If my stroke rate fell off rapidly, it could indicate that I was going into hypothermia. Laura and Susan would also serve as backups for Gabriella in case her boat broke down. That way they could take over as the main observers, enabling me to continue swimming.
Knowing that we had a rescue plan in place and a team of experienced, fast-thinking, and quick-reacting friends who were there, gave me the confidence that I could push as far as I could go. Without them, I wouldn’t have attempted an Antarctic swim.
Quickly I retreated inside, divided my long hair in half, wound one half around my left hand, and pushed it into the right side of my swimming cap, then did the opposite with the other half. Your long hair will help keep your head warm; it will be like penguin feathers, I told myself. Leave a little space on top so you can trap some air; it will give you more insulation. Remember to keep your head up as long as you can; that will give you more time in the water.
I stuck my head outside again, determined to maintain my calm. It was so cold. They still weren’t ready. The waiting was nearly the hardest part—the hardest part would be jumping into the frigid water and making