Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [85]
We began the journey. In Washington, D.C., I swam ten miles, up the Potomac River to the Jefferson Memorial. From there, Jeffrey and I traveled to Iceland, where I planned to swim across Lake Myvatn, the third-largest lake in Iceland and one of the coldest in the country.
By the time we reached Iceland, I knew I was going to have to get corporate sponsorship. At a hotel in Reykjavík I met an American man who said there were five large corporations in Iceland, one of them being Coca-Cola. It was a consumer-based corporation with American ties, so I pulled out the phone book, found the number, took a deep breath, and asked to speak to the president of the company, a man named Petur Bjornsson. He wasn’t in, but his vice president of sales was. Would I be willing to speak to him?
At the end of our conversation, the vice president said he would talk to Mr. Bjornsson and get back to me. That afternoon he called back and asked if I would meet with Mr. Bjornsson at ten o’clock in the morning, at his office.
The next morning I put on my red sweatsuit with the white stripes up the sleeve and down the leg and looked in the mirror. I looked just like a Coke can, which was what I wanted.
Mr. Bjornsson met me in the lobby; he was a very tall gentleman wearing a sport jacket and a great smile. He shook my hand enthusiastically and led me down a corridor, past pictures of him along with Jack Nicklaus on a golf course, and then he directed me to a large leather chair in his office. There were paintings on the walls and bronze sculptures on the end tables. One painting was of a white dove flapping her wings, trying to fly out of a human rib cage.
Mr. Bjornsson saw me staring at it and said that he liked to support local artists, and all the work in the room had been done by Icelandic artists. The one of the dove, the artist had said, was a symbol of herself—of her inner emotions and passions and her trying to break out of life’s cage to soar. It was an amazing piece, and I thought, If he understands this, then he will understand what I’m trying to do.
Quickly I gave him an overview of my background and told him that I wanted to swim across Lake Myvatn because I understood that the lake had never been swum, but also because the lake was very cold and it might help me on my quest for the Bering Strait. I had also promised to supply the physiologists at UCSB and Dr. Keatinge at the University of London with data from the cold swims. And I told him that I would be willing to stencil a Coca-Cola logo on my swim cap, and tell the local media about his support.
As I related all of this to Mr. Bjornsson, I was both very excited and nervous. It had been so difficult to get corporate sponsorship, because at the time few people understood what I was trying to do. But Mr. Bjornsson completely got it. He leaned forward in his chair and said, “You know, people contact me from all over the world all the time for sponsorship. They write to me about a hot-air balloon expedition or something. But they are just talking about going out there and doing it. You are actually doing it. I greatly admire that. Yes, of course, I’d love to sponsor you. How much support do you need?”
We needed to cover the air transportation to Lake Myvatn, escort boats, accommodations, food, and communications for five days. He was very agreeable, explaining that swimming was the national sport in Iceland and would instantly gain media attention and help market