Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [81]
Together, Doug and I kicked offshore. With a spear gun in one hand, Doug was unable to swim and he was unable to see what was below us. I wondered if he felt as much of a target as I did.
There was no sign of the Zodiac, so we decided to keep going. The water was lapis blue, clear, and felt thick with current. Warm sun shone on our backs, and puffy white clouds cast dark shadows on the water. Still there was no sign of the Zodiac, so we turned parallel to the coast and headed south, toward Cape Point.
The current twisted and turned around us, and we moved through pockets of shocking cold and warm. Finally, in the distance we saw Alex and Sonnichsen in the Zodiac and the ski boat just behind them.
Tired from kicking so far, Doug climbed into the ski boat while another diver jumped into the water, grabbed a rope tied to the boat, and held on. We started moving together; then something large bumped me on my right side. Sharks always bump their victims before they bite them, the old fisherman told me, and so I thought it was a shark and nearly jumped out of my skin. But it was the Zodiac. The wind was flowing across the Zodiac’s bow, making it difficult to keep the boat moving in a straight line.
We rounded Cape Point and watched the lighthouse on the cliffs at the very tip slide to our left. We were now a mile from shore, and I watched the breaking waves outline the golden African continent with a line of white.
Quickly we reached the line of foam where the Atlantic and Indian Oceans converged. Here the water boiled with current. We changed course three or four times to find our way through the current, and it took us nearly an hour to round the point. Soon, though, we were six miles from Buffels Bay. But the wind was beginning to increase. It was gusting up to thirty-five knots, a short, rapid, hard-to-find-a-place-to-breathe chop. I was ticked off at the wind. It wasn’t supposed to be blowing, and it wasn’t supposed to be blowing from this direction.
Clouds passed across the sun and turned off the sunlight like a light switch. It was now impossible to see anything below. The divers changed position again. And then something rammed me. I jumped and looked over. It was the Zodiac again. In the wind and chop, Alex was fighting to maintain control and I was fighting to control my emotions.
As we moved into the Indian Ocean, the water warmed up to seventy-two degrees, and it was clear and turquoise blue. Long strands of kelp that looked like mermaids’ hair gently rolled in and out with the small waves. Brightly colored fish swam beneath us, and for the first time I began to relax, stretch my strokes out, and enjoy the swim.
Doug’s voice snapped me back to reality. “Lynne, see the debris over there? That’s where the yellow-bellied sea snakes congregate. You’ve got to move offshore.”
It didn’t take me more than a moment to react. I quickly swam back into the current flow, where waves slapped me in the face, but I didn’t care; we were just four hundred yards from shore and I could see two wild ostriches and a crowd of cheering South Africans. It was all downhill now.
Turning to my left to breathe and to see how Doug was doing, I suddenly stopped. “Where’s Doug?” I shouted, looking down into the water. He wasn’t hanging on to the rope. Oh my God, where’s Doug? I wondered. I didn’t see a shark.
The crew hadn’t heard me, so I shouted again, above the wind: “Where’s Doug?”
Alex pulled the Zodiac close to me, then looked down. “Go on. Go on! Sprint for shore!” he shouted.
I wasn’t just going to leave Doug. I looked down again. I couldn’t see him. What happened to him? Was he okay? Alex and John were shouting at me to go, insisting that they had the situation under control.
I started sprinting. I was scared for Doug, and for myself. My fear increased with each moment; without any shark spotters,