Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [74]
We hadn’t planned to spend the night at the First Narrows, but there was a small hotel very close by, and Captain Furniss had arranged for rooms for John and me. Over dinner, while John and the commander were engaged in conversation, Dr. Fernandez and I talked about everything from Patagonia to hypothermia. He discussed his concerns about the cold exposure; he told me to take core temperatures before and after the swim, and that he wanted me to rewarm as quickly as possible afterward. I had a wonderful time talking with him and found myself wishing the night wouldn’t end, but it was nearly eleven and both men had to return to the ship. All night long the wind blew so strongly that it tore shingles off the hotel roof. Somehow I managed to block the noise and wind vibrations and fall into restless sleep.
On December 28, 1976, as I took off my sweatsuit and waited for everyone to move into position, a light wet snow began falling. John was in a skiff twenty yards off my left side, seated near the crewman who would be operating the skiff. Off to my right side, in the rubber inflatable, were the three elite frogmen wearing dry suits and an official who would time the swim. If I showed any sign of distress, they had been ordered to pull me out of the water. The Elicura was waiting offshore; it would stay there until we passed and then follow from behind. Captain Furniss was communicating with the two small boats via walkie-talkies.
The delicate snowflakes melted on my shoulders, which were turning bright red. I was starting to get cold. This was not good; it increased my chances of going into hypothermia. There were a few strands of bull kelp offshore that were pointing west but just beginning to relax. This was exactly what we wanted. I knew we had to start now. Impatiently I waited for something; I had no idea what. There must have been delay on the ship.
I stood on the beach, hopping on one foot and then the other, trying to generate heat to stay warm. “What’s the problem, John?” I yelled through cupped hands. He was just as ready to go as I was. He borrowed the walkie-talkie from the skiff captain. The reporters were trying to convince Captain Furniss to come ashore for the start of the swim. We had already decided this was not a good idea; there just wasn’t time or enough boats to jockey them in to shore and out again. We couldn’t delay. The tide wasn’t going to wait for us, so I decided that if I began moving into the water, everyone would follow. Shouting to John, I asked him to have the crew synchronize their watches with the official starter. Then I asked him to give me the go signal.
Quickly I slipped into the water. It was funny—after standing in the snow flurry with tiny snowflakes melting on my cheeks, the forty-two-degree water didn’t feel as cold as it had during my training sessions. Taking a breath and dipping down quickly into the sea, I began sprinting. I knew that I was going to have to race the entire three-mile distance if I was going to make it in to shore before the tide pushed us too far one way or the other. I would have to swim faster than I ever had before.
Racing across the sea with the frogmen on my right side and John and the skiff captain on the left, I felt happy that they were there with me. Taking a long breath, I turned and smiled and looked into their eyes. Startled, they looked back into mine and smiled. Everything had been so serious, but now they knew that this was about enjoying the experience and sharing it. Everything was working just as we had planned. It almost seemed too easy. The current continued carrying us to the west; and then the waves started. Three-foot waves were breaking in the direction of the current. They pushed us farther west, more rapidly than we had anticipated. Looking up, I could see that we were moving out of the First Narrows. The shoreline in