Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [96]
Turning back for one last second, I looked at all of the Muir Inlet. I wanted to hold that image in my head forever. When things got difficult in life, I would pull it up and remember how amazing it was to be there, to push the limits with the crew, and remember how inspiring the entire experience was.
When my body cleared the water, I could hear the crew cheering. Remember, you’re going to have a big blood-pressure shift when you go from lying down to standing up. It’s going to make you feel dizzy. Whoa, wow, the world feels very unsteady. Whoa, I think I’m going to fall on my face. Stick your arms out, just get your balance. Ah, there’s Dena. Oh, she’s putting a blanket over your shoulders. She’s holding your shoulder, helping you balance. Smile. Your hand, it’s bleeding—just a superficial cut, and water always makes it look worse. You’re okay, right? Your entire body’s numb and you’re shaking so hard your head’s bouncing, but you’re okay, right? Yes. Okay, then, get back into the boat. Look, Fritz is pulling onshore. Debbie has the hot-water bottles to put under your arms, the back of your neck, and your groin area to start rewarming.
You can crawl into the sleeping bag now with the hot-water bottles and a blanket. Won’t that feel great?
Oh, yes, I’m so cold. It will feel wonderful. I’m breathing so fast and hard. My body is shivering hard; my muscles are instinctively working to make heat. Okay, stop thinking and just get into that bag and get warm. The air temperature now has to be below freezing. Ah, they have the heat on belowdecks. Wow, how wonderful it feels to be immersed in swirls of heat. Fritz must have put the heater on full force. I can feel my body thawing. It’s going to feel like pins and needles all over, but it won’t be that way for long, and then you’ll be warm and you can rest. Hot chocolate. That would taste so good, once I can feel my lips and tongue. Dena and Debbie are all smiles. They did so well. What an incredible team. Jeffrey must be on deck with Fritz. I can feel the boat turning; he’s probably helping Fritz spot ice. Hope that we can get out of here okay.
“Dena, did anyone get my time for the swim?”
“Yes, you were in the water for twenty-eight minutes. You’ve changed a lot of minds about people’s ability to handle the cold,” she said, her voice high with excitement.
I felt so fortunate that I had been able to find a group of people who thought of what could be instead of being stuck on what was. That’s where progress came from, imagining the possibilities. Alaskans were like that, though. Maybe because of the openness of their environment or maybe because of the danger of it, they had to find new ways to work together to survive. They lived a lot on the outer edge, so I think that’s what made it easier for them to understand what I wanted to do and then to embrace it.
After the swim, Dena told me that I had swum in thirty-eight-degree water. It took me at least two hours of shivering to get my body temperature back to normal. We took it immediately after I got out of the water, and it was the same as when I’d started the swim. I’m sure it dropped once the swim was over, but I wasn’t interested in trying to get a temperature by that point; all I wanted to do was to get warm.
When we reached Gustavus, we celebrated with a great Alaskan salmon dinner—you are what you eat. All of us were happy and satisfied. A day later, Jeffrey Cardenas and I flew to San Francisco so I could finish my around-the-world swim with a crossing of the Golden Gate. It was a fun, current-filled swim. It was challenging, and it was so beautiful to swim through San Francisco Bay.
When I got home to southern California I knew that the Bering Strait might be possible. I knew that I could swim one mile in thirty-eight-degree water. Could I swim five times as far in water that cold? Could I swim if the water temperature was