Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [80]
As we approached a rocky area, Mario wanted me to watch my footing. He had seen puff adders sunning themselves in the area just last week. The puff adders were locally known as large lazy snakes that wouldn’t slither away or give you any warning they were underfoot. If you stepped on one, it would just turn and inject its deadly venom into your leg.
I was scared to death of snakes. We managed to make it safely to the base of the cliffs, and I was relieved—until Doug told me that we might encounter one more snake in the water, the yellow-bellied sea snake, known as the cobra of the sea. These sea snakes don’t attack. They do bite if disturbed, but their mouths are very small. There was a good possibility that we would see them in the sea slicks, long narrow lines on the ocean’s surface where the currents converge, where debris accumulates, and where the water is calmer.
When we reached the powdery white beach, the waves towered above our heads. They were at least fifteen to twenty feet high, taller than any wave I’d ever seen. And they were breaking on the beach with so much force, I couldn’t hear anything else. I’d had no experience with huge surf, but I knew that if I made a mistake, I would be clobbered.
Doug and Mario squeezed into their wet suits while I took off my sweats and handed them to a journalist. He planned to go around the Cape by car and meet us at the finish. It seemed like it was taking an awfully long time for Doug and Mario to get ready. Mario shouted in my ear that he was also a little worried about the surf.
Doug asked me to give the journalist any rings or earrings or bracelets before I got into the water. There were snook in the sea, barracuda-like fish with sharp teeth. They could be aggressive, and it was better not to wear anything that would attract them.
Doug and I walked down a slope to the edge of the beach, Mario lagging behind a little. The waves were crashing with so much force I could feel the shock vibrating through my entire body. Wave foam was flying over our heads and into our faces. Following closely behind Doug, I looked back and saw Mario licking his mask to keep it from fogging, then pulling it over his head.
Almost as soon as I entered the water, the bottom dropped out from under me. I was in foam five feet high, up to my neck. It was like entering the largest bubble bath in the world, only this tub was filled with fifty-eight-degree water. Waves were surging toward us, gaining height by the second. A rip caught Doug and me and dragged us rapidly toward a wave that must have been twenty feet high, its crest beginning to curl. I fought the water. Trying to remain near shore until the wave broke, I leaned back, then sprinted across the froth. It was so strange: I was pulling fast and hard, but the water was so full of bubbles there was nothing to push against, no resistance, nothing to grab so I could propel myself beyond the waves. Another wave towered toward me. It broke above my head. I dove deep, pulling fast through the foam, working hard to get down low, really low, before the wave collapsed on me.
The wave was tumbling, rolling forward, pulling me up, as if I were drawn by some invisible string, then bending me backward. I didn’t want to go backward over the falls. Pulling as hard as I could, I tried to go deeper. My lungs were burning. I wanted to come up for air, but I couldn’t. Another wave was breaking, one after the other in successive concussions. They were too large to swim through.
At last there was a gap in the set. Fighting up through the foam, I gasped for air and looked around. Doug was to my right; he told me to sprint out farther before the next set hit. I couldn’t see Mario, and neither could Doug. A minute passed, maybe two; we tried to see over the backs of the waves, but they were too high. We discussed the possibility of going back in to shore to find him. Doug said it was too dangerous.
Finally,