Kevin Haugh: Golden Gate Bridge Swim

Saturday morning I had the unique opportunity to swim the span of the Golden Gate Bridge. The morning sunrise was spectacular. From the boat, the bay seemed as tame as a mountain lake. As we pulled away from the dock our skipper began to rattle off the emergency procedures, "the life jackets are located. . ." He stopped short and laughed, "Well, I don't suppose you guys will be needing them, huh?" Someone quipped, "Don't worry, we'll save you if the boat goes down." As it turns out, some of these folks were a bit over confident.

Once in position, under the Golden Gate Bridge, we realized the opposite shore was completed obstructed by a thick fog bank. There was some nervous discussion and we waited a bit, but the tides were turning and we had to make haste. As the sun rose over the Oakland hills, we jumped into the 60 degree water and swam parallel to the bridge on the ocean side of the bridge I breathed on the right, siting the bridge with each breath. I remember praying the fog would clear before we swam blindly into the bank.

There were only 34 swimmers who participated in the event. All were well qualified swimmers, yet most wore wetsuits for added buoyancy and warmth. The consensus was this would be a tough swim. We quickly spread out into solo efforts, pairs, and groups of three. I swam alone, making my way further out into the open ocean.

About midspan, I began to swim under the Golden Gate. The sun had risen and the bridge appeared as red as fired iron. Through my swim goggles, the sun reflecting off the red paint was so bright the image remained burned into my vision as I turned into the dark waters.

Time passed I got a bit nervous so I pulled hard and rose out of the water to get my bearings. There were no swimmers in site! I was completely alone. I was suddenly at ill ease and started to swim faster and faster. The fog enveloped me and the bridge above me disappeared. My breathing became labored, but I continued to increase my pace. Swimming blind, I charged ahead curling my finger tips, anticipating an impact for some odd reason. Finally, I sited a bridge support and used it to judge my progress. I realized I actually lost ground and was slowly being pulled out into the open sea.

Later I learned that nearly half of the swimmers had lost the battle of the current and had to be picked up by rescue boats. Some were too slow to overcome the currents, others lost their mental edge under the vast expanse of the bridge and began to tread water. During the short swim reprieve, these swimmers were swiftly swept toward into the open ocean by unseen currents. The rescue boats repositioned the swimmers on the bay side of the bridge so they could easily complete the swim. Some swimmers were repositioned twice.

At the time, I had no idea any of this was going on. All I knew was that I was alone, swimming nearly blind, caught in a wide current, and that I needed to punch through. A kind of survival instinct took over and the beautiful swim became a serious affair. After 10 long minutes of swimming against the current, I broke free and finally spied Lime Rock. At the swim briefing we were instructed that our swim was complete when we touched Lime Rock.

As I approached Lime Rock, I became aware that the water had become perfectly still. During my fight with the current, the fog had completely disappeared and the sun had risen high in the sky. It was as if the fog and current never existed. The adrenalin rush of the swim had passed and all seemed quiet as I glided up to Lime Rock. I swam a victory lap around the pick up boat and stared at the bridge for a long time. Floating in the calm water with the morning sun warming my shoulders I felt completely at peace with the world. It was a wonderful morning!

Here are the photos, some are really nice.

Click on any photo to enlarge.

My 'game face'