May 31, 2003

The Potomac River Swim

On the other side of the lake I land at another dock, one low enough I can hop out and pull my kayak up on the edge. Greg and Jenny are here carrying their boats down to the same dock.

As I wait to meet up with my swimmer, Henry Eckstein, Karl paddles over from the campground and I help him carry his boat up to the grass with the growing number of other kayaks.

The Potomac River Swim benefits the Interstate Commission on the Potomac River Basin, the Southern Maryland Sierra Club, Chesapeake Bay Foundation, Point Lookout State Park, and the Potomac River Association. This swim is one of the better organized swims, with each swimmer assigned a kayaker to escort them across the seven and a half miles of open water.

As we begin loading, I put the Sirocco lengthwise in a Boston Whaler. Another kayak is placed across the stern and strapped in place with bungees. The kayaks on shore are loaded aboard a large skipjack and the swimmers begin to climb aboard as well. I was beginning to get nervous when Henry showed up with his food and briefly went over how often he expected to feed.

I board the Whaler, and just before getting underway I stow Henry's food in a deck bag, or at least as much as I could, with a little bit stuffed in my day hatch.

We head out into the Potomac slowly. The waves are large and the whaler is slamming her bow pretty hard on the waves. The skipper's wife is sitting in the bow not facing the water, afraid to look. Once, the boat entirely leaped from the water, the engine racing as the prop broke free of the waves. It seemed like the ride across took forever, and I was deeply concerned with the well being of at least several kayakers who I think lack the experience for the return trip. Greg had told me this morning before we launched that a kayaker had asked him what a paddle float was for. The forecast was for a possible thunderstorm during the race. I was wishing I had volunteered to be a safety boat rather than a swimmer supporter.

As the Whaler crossed the river, the waves became smaller as the fetch became less. The captain picked up speed as the waves smoothed out. I programmed my VHF to scan the channels needed for the day. The captain dropped us off on shore and was the only boat that could make it in that shallow. The rest of the kayaks and swimmers were dropped off in the water and they waded/paddled in for a shore start.

As I was standing on the beach waiting for everyone, Greg told me the boat he came across the river in took a wave over the bow when they first headed out. I was becoming more and more concerned about these kayakers. As we launched to get ready for the race, Greg paddled over to talk to someone without bow flotation or a spray skirt. I expected this to be an interesting day.

For myself I knew the conditions, at least as they were when we left, were well within my range. I didn't want to surf into my swimmer as he stopped to feed, and I had discussed what I would do with him the night before if conditions were bad. He needed me to navigate from his right side so he could see me, but this could also put my kayak between him and the waves. If the waves got too large I would back up and slip on to his left side if needed while he fed.

The whistle blown, we were off. Henry swam for 40 minutes before stopping for his first feed. I asked him how he felt, and would do this each time we stopped to check for signs of hypothermia. I wasn't as concerned about his answer than the WAY he answered. After the first feed Henry set his watch to beep every 20 minutes. We would stop each time and he would drink from a bottle, or ask for something hot in the Thermos or eat a power gel. After giving him what he asked for I would side scull away from him and wait till he finished and move back in to grab his bottle or trash. As the waves grew larger I would back away simply because I couldn't scull fast enough.

The wind and waves were almost directly behind us. I rarely paddled forward, and instead held a low brace on the downwind side acting as part rudder, and part brake to keep me from outrunning Henry. We were being pushed along and I was secretly hoping we would get off the water before something bad happened to someone.

"SWIM ONE, THIS IS US COAST GUARD ON ZERO SIX"

"THIS IS SWIM ONE, GO AHEAD"

"ROGER SWIM ONE. WE JUST TALKED TO THE STATION AND DOPPLER IS SHOWING A STORM APPROACHING. IT IS EXPECTED TO ARRIVE IN ABOUT ONE HOUR"

"ROGER. KEEP US POSTED. SWIM ONE OUT"

I passed the info to Henry on his next feed. I mentioned there was chatter about if they saw lightning they would pull the swimmers out and wait 15-20 minutes and possibly drop them back in to finish the race. I wondered to myself what the kayakers were supposed to do for 15-20 minutes.

An hour passed, and then,

"SWIM ONE, THIS IS US COAST GUARD ON ZERO SIX"

"THIS IS SWIM ONE, GO AHEAD"

"ROGER, WE JUST TALKED TO THE STATION AND THE STORM IS GOING TO MISS US TO THE EAST"

"ROGER, THANKS FOR LETTING US KNOW"

Indeed. I passed on the good news to Henry at his next feed.

A swimmer was pulled out by a police boat. On the radio I heard them ask for a blanket or jacket. The large Coast Guard boat took the swimmer and decided the swimmer needed medical attention and took him/her back to the docks. The 62 degree water had taken its toll.

With the Coast Guard now gone, I'm not sure where the police boat disappeared to when I heard,

"KAYAKER 17 TO SWIM ONE"

It was Jenny.

"THIS IS SWIM ONE, GO AHEAD"

"THERE IS A BOAT NEAR THE FRONT OF THE GROUP CUTTING ACROSS THE RACE COURSE"

Jeez.

Not much later I look to my right and I see another large white boat and it is headed in my direction. Just as I'm beginning to feel like it will pass behind me it turns directly at me. I look back to the left for the nearest whaler but he already sees the boat and throttles up to place himself between me and the approaching craft. Finally the boat throttles down and I can now see a blue flashing light. Another marine patrol boat who gives the whaler instructions about the tug and barge about to pass through the rear of the course.

And I mean "through" the rear of the course. A whaler is assigned to mark each swimmer in the rear of the pack. Swim one is on the Virginia side of the tug, with I believe one swimmer. I'm on the Maryland side of the tug with three or four other kayak/swimmer pairs. I wish the Coast Guard would hurry and get back. (note: I later received email from Jenny W and Alan A that both of them were on the far side of the barge from me, meaning at least 2 swimmers and most likely a few more were on that side of the course. Jenny mentioned her swimmer actually had to stop and wait for the barge to pass)

I was pretty satisfied with the line I was navigating across the river. It was the beginnings of a flood current but it never seemed to get strong enough to make a lot of a difference. The skipjack seemed to be heading down river too far, and many of the kayakers were following it. I kept a little more to the left and pretty well centered between the left and rightmost whalers lining the course. In the last 100 yards we would get caught in something sweeping us up river and I turned parallel to the shore to keep Henry out of the rocks forming the breakwalls for about 100 feet.

Henry landed. His time 3:59, and was the 21st person to finish. Henry had expected to finish in 5-6 hours depending on the weather, but the waves and wind had pushed everyone along for a fast ride.

I gathered up Henry's stuff and put it in a bag for him. When I found him on the beach he was eating fried chicken and thanking me for helping him. He said I was one of the best kayak supporters he has had, which made me feel good since it was my first dedicated swim support. We said goodbye and I launched and headed back to the camp site. A nap was in my future.

The support wasn't hard, and there was enough excitement to keep me from getting too bored. I wondered if I would have tolerated 6 hours on my butt if it had gone that long.

The official race report listed the weather as: water temperature 62 degrees, rainy, overcast, wind 15-20 knots (S), waves 2-3 feet. I think maybe there were a few gusts to 20 knots, but not many. I never saw a 3 foot wave. I think 2 feet would be the upper extent at best, and that happened as the barge/tug was passing. The waves when we landed were not as big as when we headed out in the morning on the whaler.

At this point I'm not sure if I will do this again. As it fades from my memory I'm more inclined to say yes. When I first got off the water I said absolutely not. I think if I do, it will be in the role of a safety kayaker rather than a swim support kayak. I'd feel more qualified in that role.

The one story I didn't get to hear is how one swimmer finished up without a kayaker. The list I had showed there were 7 or 8 safety kayakers in reserve so I don't know how a swimmer ended up without an escort. I assume the kayaker was pulled for some reason, but I'm unsure why. (note: I received an email from Joq M explaining that one kayaker had to drop out because he had no skirt on his loaner boat and was taking on water. Joq returned back to the water to take on the support role and a few minutes later was joined by Greg)

Woody

Official Race Results

Karl sent me his trip report, which I've posted below:

The ride on the Skipjack across the Potomac was pretty rough and my adrenalin was rising. The previous year's swim was smooth and calm, and my swimmer cruised the 7.5 miles in 3 hours. This time it would be more exciting. The lady kayaker next to me on the Skipjack was wearing some pretty light splash wear and using a recreational kayak. Another young man near me did not have a skirt, and was discussing how a paddle float is used. There were 2 foot waves with a good chance of thunderstorms. I was clad in a wet suit and my kayak was laden with safety gear. Was I a wimp or wise; the debate continued in my head. Finally my kayak was dropped from the skipjack and it felt good to be on the water. However, there were a few factors which made me anxious. First, my rescue skills were rusty from a missed season due to back surgery. Therefore I carried a foam float on my deck rather than just trust my roll. Second, it is not easy for me to sit for a long time in a tight fitting boat, and I knew that I might have to take a stretch somewhere along the route. I had discussed this possibility with my swimmer, David (not his real name), along with the other basic things such the position of the kayak and the feeding schedule. I attached my VHF to my PFD. It was bulky, but I was eager to actually use it for something other than a weather radio. Visibility was good, and I could clearly see the destination on the other side.

I found David as the race started. David elected not to wear a wet suit, which surprised me, but then a few others were also swimming bare. It was his first major open water swim for a number of years, having been a serious swimmer in his youth. His son and mine are good friends, but this was our first meeting. It had been a real surprise when our sons discovered that their fathers were both signed up for the same event. Both were participating, but my effort pales in comparison to that of the swimmers. David held a good pace and he stayed in the middle of the pack. It began to rain and there was a report over the radio of a nearing storm. Feeling a little worried, I decided to put on my jacket during the first drink break. Unfortunately, this is a major job. Wanting to eliminate any possibility of capsize, I quickly secured my float and outrigger, then removed my PFD and put the jacket on. It went quickly, but I felt like the extra minute was slowing down my swimmer. In the excitement of putting on my jacket, I had lost one of the drink bottles, adding to the flotsam of the Potomac. Once moving again, I wanted to replenish my on deck supply and tempted to grab another bottle from where they were stowed beside my seat. However, I had pushed them too far back and could not reach reach them, and the small chop was not helping matters - another failure. Luckily an extra kayaker (without an assigned swimmer) soon passed by. I asked him to raft up for a moment while I twisted and grabbed some bottles. It took only about 15 seconds so that David probably did not even notice.

The waves were picking up by the middle of the course, and after 2 hours, I was getting real stiff and in need of some relief. With the prospect of another 2-3 hours in increasing waves, I thought it was best to stretch sooner than later. A support boat happen to pull close by as they patrolled the line of swimmers. I yelled to the boat to keep close to my swimmer for a few minutes and they acknowledged. After signaling my swimmer, I sped ahead a short distance, and slipped into the water. It felt great to stretch and kick around for about 1 minute. During this minute, David swam passed me, and I could see he was having trouble staying on course. I reentered my kayak, and was quickly by his side. He had told me there would be no problem swimming without me for a few minutes, but I felt a little guilty leaving him for even that short amount of time.

David continued in the middle of the pack to about the two thirds mark, but the larger waves began to take their toll. He surfaced and lost most of the energy bar he had previously eaten. I encouraged him to hold onto my bow as he rested. A support boat drew near and I told them it was just some sea-sickness, but David was also shivering and I began to worry. After another 15-20 minutes of good progress, he gave up the fight, feeling sick and cold. He held onto my bow as I attempted to radio for a boat. For the first time in 3 years, I actually had a reason to transmit on my VHF. The channel number indicated the correct channel (6), but as I pushed the transmit button, it sounded a continuous beep, and was clearly not working. I was frustrated, and with the hanging swimmer, and the waves, I almost capsized. Once again I stuffed the foam float on my paddle for some secure bracing and waved it in the air to attract a police boat. The boat picked up my swimmer and I continued on to the finish.

Without a swimmer to occupy me, I found the 2 foot confused waves to be a little unnerving. As I paddled and braced, I watched a wide sit-on-top with a calm paddler, and tried to remember my many good reasons for buying a skinny boat. At the beach and picnic I found David warm and in good spirits. I also discovered that during the paddle I had somehow accidentally switched my VHF to the weather channels, and had been attempting to transmit on weather channel 6. I left with a full stomach and a free shirt, and with the hope that the swim and fund raising makes a good contribution to the restoration of the Chesapeake bay.

Karl