Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [72]
John and I were in a meeting with the admiral of the coast guard and the admiral of the Chilean navy when this happened. There was a strongly worded discussion between the two men. Neither John nor I understood enough Spanish to comprehend what they were saying, but from their body language we could tell that they were not happy with each other.
Ultimately, through an interpreter—although he spoke some English—the admiral of the Chilean navy explained the situation. He said that the coast guard could do as they wished and that he understood the reasons for their protest, but he had given his word that he would support us for the swim. He had assured the Chilean ambassador and consul general in San Francisco that they would help us, and he would not back down on his word. Besides that, he firmly believed that we could achieve our goal with their support.
I thanked the naval admiral for his backing and asked if I could borrow the interpreter to speak with the admiral of the coast guard. It was obvious that they were a little surprised that I’d taken the initiative. I don’t think they were accustomed to listening to nineteen-year-old girls, but they humored me. I didn’t want the swim to create any animosity between the Chilean navy and the Chilean coast guard, so I told the admiral of the coast guard that I greatly appreciated his concern for my safety, and that it was of concern to me too. That was exactly why I had contacted him, to request his help to ensure my safety throughout the swim. He knew more about the tides and currents in the strait than I ever would; he dealt with them every day. His men boarded and piloted all the ships that traveled through the strait as a safety precaution. He also knew the mistakes people made in these waters, all the things to avoid. So we needed his help, and his knowledge. I told him I had no intention of attempting the swim if it became too dangerous.
In the end, the admiral of the coast guard said that he was still hesitant about the swim, but he would provide whatever information and assistance he could. I asked if he could help us get in touch with a man who operated a small ferryboat in the First Narrows, who would have daily and in-depth knowledge of the tides and currents in the area. When we left the meeting that day, the admirals shook hands, and they were smiling.
As the Elicura sailed southward across the strait, toward Tierra del Fuego, we worked with Captain Furniss, his commander, Dr. Fernandez, and the crew to try to determine the best starting point, the swim’s course, and the end point. The forecast was mixed. And neither John nor I knew it at the time, but this was Captain Furniss’s first solo command. He was being prudent and cautious. He wanted the swim to be a success.
We had hopes of starting the swim that afternoon, but the wind was howling across the treeless, golden Patagonian flatlands, gaining speed with each passing hour, and increasing up to thirty knots. The Strait of Magellan was a sea of three-foot-high aquamarine waves that exploded into whitecaps and swirled and seethed around the majestic ship, the only boat operating in the strait.
It didn’t seem likely that the wind would subside quickly, but Captain Furniss knew that conditions in the strait changed more rapidly than anywhere in the world. There were time constraints on us; it wasn’t clear how long we could tie up the navy ship, but we knew it wouldn’t be more than a few days. So Captain Furniss wanted to get the swim off as soon as it was safe. He also had other considerations at home. We didn’t know it at the time, but his wife was in the hospital about to give birth. Hoping for a lull in the wind, Captain Furniss ordered his crew to cruise slowly back and forth along Tierra