It is poetic justice how the shortest stage of the event coincides with the longest day of the year! Summer solstice dawned early and the event crew was already hard at work getting Stage 3 ready to launch. It’s an interesting mindset to think “It’s only 13.2 miles today, it’ll be easy!” As with the rest of the event, yesterday’s finish line morphed into today’s starting line as we jumped just north of the Mid-Hudson bridge and took our first strokes shortly after 9AM. We started with the outgoing tide, which grew in strength over the next three hours.
The scenery most of the way was beautiful. Stunning landscapes on both sides of the river, it was described by another swimmer as “Something you would see in a Bob Ross painting that hangs in your Great Aunt Ethel’s living room.” There really isn’t a better way to describe it. The weather was amazing, not a cloud in the sky and a slight tailwind. It was just enough to lift everyone’s spirits.
This stage is also billed as the one with the “most scenic” cement factories. That didn’t disappoint either. It was a sight to behold, and it also meant we were about half way. The last three miles were pretty much a straight shot with the Beacon Newburgh bridge looming as the finish. It’s always a great feeling to swim under the shadow of the bridge since that means you’re SO CLOSE!
Another great day in the Hudson River. Four more stages to go!
While it’s officially titled “The Lighthouses” the second stage of 8 Bridges has acquired other less official names by a number of the swimmers! With the first day distance of 18.3 Miles and today billed as 19.8 miles you might be thinking “how much harder can 1.5 miles be?”
To answer that question you see finish times that were 1.5 to 2 hours slower for the same swimmers yesterday. An additional challenge of this event is the current window. This varies based on the day, but today we had a shade under 7 hours of the ebb (outgoing) tide. If you’re still swimming when the flood (incoming) tide starts then the last section of the swimmer is not a lot of fun!
We jumped early, about 30 minutes before our projected start time so we would start the swim with an incoming tide. While it would mean we had to fight the current initially, it provided a better shot at finishing before the flood tide. It’s easier to fight the current at the beginning when you are fresh than try to slog through an increasing current at the finish!
What made this swim harder than yesterday’s is that there were parts of the river that widened, lessening the current. An additional challenge was having to move out of the main channel for several large barges. The current is strongest at the deepest parts of the river so that is where we wanted to be. Unfortunately, the ships want that deep water as well and since they are bigger they win!
As we came around a final bend in the river, about three miles from the finish, the final bridge came into view. This is a mixed blessing. While seeing the finish line gives hope, it always appears way closer than it actually is. A rule of thumb to estimate how long it will take is to eyeball the distance and guess at a time. Then take that number, add a little bit…and double it!
Tomorrow we have the shortest stage of the event. It’s all a matter of perspective. You know the first two days have taken a toll when you think…”only 13.2 miles, that’s barely worth getting my hair wet”
The event is called 8 Bridges, but it’s really just two bridges. That’s all you have to think about each day. It’s pretty simple really, you start and one bridge and you finish at the next one. How many miles the stage is and how long it’s taking seem less relevant as the miles start to blend together and the time starts to blur.
The starting point today was the Rip Van Winkle Bridge and the finish line about 18.3 Miles away under the Kingston-Rhinecliff Bridge. This stage is officially called “The Islands” but it’s really “the warm up” as it’s our first chance to wrap our collective heads around how the water is moving, what the Hudson River Valley looks like on the way by, and the conditions that can make the exact same swim change vastly from one year to the next or one day to the next.
We had a favorable current and a tailwind which made the 18.3 miles move by pretty quickly. I had great help all day long from Luis, my kayaker, who did a great job of working through the challenges of the day including a lot of traffic on the waterway.
Overall the water was warm (74 degrees) and the conditions were favorable. It was a great warm up for the week ahead. All of the swimmers finished today. So one way to look at it is that we have a solid first day in the books, but we also have over a hundred miles to go 🙂
On a 93 mile Uber ride from the airport there is a lot of time to think. We were making the trek on Sunday night from JFK to the first base camp in Poughkeepsie, some 40 miles from our eventual starting point in Catskill, NY. Most of our thoughts were some variation of…”wow this is a long drive” followed closely by “wait, we have to swim all the way back…and a lot more.”
That ride sets the scene for the longest stage swim race in the world as we stare down 120 miles of the Hudson River. Starting tomorrow we will be in the water for 13-20 miles a day.
Swimming is the perfect blend of the individual and the team. It’s difficult to imagine all of the work that goes on behind the scenes to pull of an event like 8 Bridges. Each swimmer has their own dedicated kayaker and, for the last stage, an additional support boat. So despite everything that has to come together for the opportunity, it’s still on the swimmer to take the next stroke, to swim towards the horizon, and in the case of this event on to the next bridge.
My brother, John, and I are two of the eight swimmers who are entered in each of the seven stages. We’ll be joining people from across the country and around the world as we swim our way back to the airport.
Last year I wrote a blog before I jumped in for Stage 1 and it was all about my romance with the Hudson; this year it’s the opposite, it’s all about the numbers. These are some of the ‘facts’ that I am using to help bolster my confidence that I can successfully complete these swims (Stages 2 & 5). I look at the numbers to see what they tell me about my odds and this year as with most the numbers don’t actually add up to saying SUCCESS in a traditional way…but they never have and somehow I’ve still managed to make 4 out of the 7 Stages so far.
Recommended Pace – Stage 2 is 28 and Stage 5 is 27 minute miles.
Now this should scare me as the fastest I’ve ever swum a mile anywhere under any conditions is 29:51 – the good news is it was in open water and it was this year! Combine that fact with the fact that I’ve successfully completed Stage 1 and 4 in the past with recommended 30 minute mile paces when the best i could do those years was maybe 33 minutes. And this season with my training I’ve managed to get 10% faster and even though on paper I can’t swim 27/28 minute miles I still think I have a chance of getting to the bridge.
My 1st rationalization
These are the hardest 2 stages based on the past, Stage 5 has a ~59% and Stage 2 ~53% successful completion rate. I look at the individual swimmers that have been thwarted at these 2 stages; amazingly talented, fast, experienced swimmers who have swum channels and crossings undaunted and yet on their day in these parts of the river they did not make the bridge. Everything about their resumes said they could but as we all know there are no guarantees and for whatever internal and external reasons that day in that section of the river they didn’t make it. Maybe it was their feeds, brutal winds from the south, cold water with cold air, tornado warnings; the list goes on. But on the other side of this argument is my performance at Stage 1 last year. I made that bridge by swimming with every fiber of my being against the current for the last 90 minutes, leveraging all the skills and experience of Lizzie Tabor and the patience of David & Rondi, so why not me?
My 2nd rationalization
I have never been fast and still am not, but I am getting faster. This year I have managed to drop 2 seconds on my 25 when swimming my favorite Monday morning set of 10 X 400 descending with 30 seconds rest. I love this set for measuring progress as it requires that balance between speed and endurance, just like the Hudson does on a much more massive scale. And that 2 seconds translates to real time – 19.8 miles is 34,848 yards, which is 348.5 hundreds, which is 1395 25’s. In time that translates to ~2800 seconds which is 46.666666 minutes, which is REAL TIME and I will need every one of those minutes to make the bridge.
Real Fact #3
I look at the list of successful swimmers for these 2 stages and there are very few over the age of 55, I’m 56. And those who are were to the best of my knowledge age group swimmers, not people with less than a decade of experience. But maybe that works to my benefit in some weird way. I have no where to go but up, I get stronger and faster every year and I have nothing to lose. I have already achieved more than I could ever have dreamed possible when I started this 8 years ago. And I think my age is an advantage with the emotional part of this sport, I may not have a powerful physical game but I am not giving up. Not in this river, not in this event, I am relentless.
Rationalization number 4.
As always I have trained a lot this year, ~350 miles so far in hopes of getting to the bridge. I’m finally starting to feel like i have the necessary miles on my body to approach something this daunting. So many of the swimmers I know have been swimming since they were 8, I’m jealous of the millions of yards they have on their shoulders and core, their solid technique that requires no thought due to muscle memory, but maybe I shouldn’t be. The down side is the injury and repetitive strain some experience, knock on wood I have so far not been plagued with any swimming related injuries perhaps because of my minimal miles.
But at the end of the day how I do will depend as ALWAYS on who I am that day and who the Hudson is. All these ‘facts’ will not matter more than the wind direction, speed and the water temperature in my getting to the bridge. These numbers only get me to the opportunity to jump off the boat with some expectation that I have a chance to fell the shadow and swim past the bridge. My final thoughts haven’t changed from what I wrote last year:
This is my home water, the place I feel the most comfortable swimming. I swam my 1st mile here in 2010 and have been lucky enough to jump in every year since. I’m swimming the stages of 8 Bridges easiest to hardest as I’m optimistic that I will continue to improve that little bit I need to make the next bridge each year. But no matter how my day in the river ends whether beyond the bridge or in a RHIB I will be eternally grateful that I got to jump in and swim happy in the Hudson again this year. XOXO
Whenever I plan for a swim in a new body of water, I feel a certain reservation. Shall I trust these waters? Will they welcome me? The wisdom and experiences shared by other swimmers might give me an inkling of the kind of reception I might expect, but there is no telling until the moment the waters and I meet. Some waters have an instant chemistry with a swimmer. Perhaps the setting, the color, taste, and smell—even the weight—of the water, the way the sun reflects on the surface, or the latent power of endless water molecules moving in unison make a swimmer fall in love instantly. But other times, waters can be reserved and mysterious, not wanting to open up to a relationship, at least not right away. The latter is the case of the Mighty Hudson and me.
Encouraged by a dear friend, I decided to include one of the 8 Bridges swims in my season. 8 Bridges is a favorite of the marathon swimming community for the immense challenge it represents—at 120 miles the longest stage swim in the world—but also due to its impeccable organization and dedicated volunteers. My friend suggested Stages 3, 4, or 6 were more suitable for a newcomer. Being a fool for scenery, I picked Stage 4. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity swim by the U.S. Military Academy. The U.S. Army has been a part of my family for three generations.
Most people think of the city whenever New York is mentioned, but what they’re omitting is the natural beauty of upstate New York. The Hudson River Valley has always been a favorite of mine. Driving to the Garrison Metro-North Station through winding roads lined with lush trees was a beautiful prelude to what I expected would be a beautiful swim. The morning of Stage 4 was misty, with air temperatures in the lower 70s (21˚C). A group of about 50 people—swimmers, kayakers, and volunteers—boarded the train en route to Beacon, our starting point. From the Beacon Station one can see the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge in the distance.
Next to the ferry dock is a boat house where the kayaks were stored after Stage 3. While the kayakers readied their craft, swimmers handed them their feeds and gear. By day four, many swimmers had already established a routine with their kayakers, particularly the intrepid nine who were swimming all seven stages. The through swimmers were five Americans, three Brazilians, and one Mexican, and one could tell these people had already forged a bond among themselves. One couldn’t find a more fun elite group of swimmers. I felt fortunate to be starting that day, not only because I’d be swimming for the first time in the Hudson and seeing West Point from the water, but also because there were many friends who were starting with me or volunteering, swimmers whom I’d met in Vermont and Arizona during the past year. I love the traveling circus atmosphere.
After checking in with my gracious pilot, Lizzy, I covered any exposed skin with zinc oxide. The day was overcast, but avoiding any potential sunburn is always a priority. The swimmers boarded Launch 5. We motored over to the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge while the kayakers made their way from the boathouse.
I glanced south at the wide river. In the background, the Hudson Highlands were shrouded by the lifting fog. I gazed again at the river. Her gray-green, choppy surface pried my eyes away from anything and anyone. Underneath the waves, I could see the sheer power of the Hudson on its inexorable course south and I understood that it is called mighty because the instant I dove in, she would engulf me and punish me and either humble me or forgive my trespassing and let me go just as easily as it let me in. The mood in the boat was festive, but I’d picked a spot on the port gunwale to take the experience in quietly. Only one other silent swimmer stood beside me. I offered the Hudson a rock I’d picked up on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay the week before. I had forebodings that it wasn’t enough to entice a welcome from the river. Perhaps I should’ve also offered a pink shell from Florida. Neither here nor there, the rock was all I had. I kissed it and threw it overboard.
The captain stopped the boat under the bridge. I looked up at the twin spans and recalled the Chesapeake Bay Bridge fondly. I knew that unlike the Chesapeake, these weren’t known waters; this wouldn’t be an easy swim, but I was determined to find it in me to finish it. Swimmers jumped in the water with glee. I was the last off the boat. Below the surface, the water was dark green and the visibility low. It felt very comfortable at 69˚F (20.6˚C). Lizzy and I found each other right away and soon I heard a loud ‘Go!’ I was grateful I didn’t have any time to consider how the swim would turn out.
Downriver Lizzy and I headed hugging the east bank. She was a fabulous paddler, smooth and steady, keeping her craft pointed on course through chop and wake. Throughout the first four and a half miles of the swim we were hit by unrelenting, deep head-on waves. On my left Lizzy guided me and on my right land features and barges passed by, but these were images that only existed in my subconscious, for I felt I was alone with the river and I belonged in its cool waters and breathing had turned from something vital for land dwellers to something amusing for water beings. The Hudson was punishing me, but she was still letting me through.
Lizzy pointed Bannerman Castle. The river narrowed after another mile at Breakneck Point. As we entered the Highlands the waves calmed. Further downriver, the wind died in the shadow of West Point. When we reached World’s End, just before passing West Point, we crossed the channel over to the western riverbank. Now the river enticed me with pleasantries like a fast current, lenses of cold water, and the magnificent views of the stalwart granite buildings of the Military Academy. The elation was not to last long. As I had expected, once past West Point, at nine and a half miles, the wind picked up and the river renewed her pummeling, invigorated. White caps, fast and shallow, hindered my progress. Every so often my arms would be knocked into a wave, but rather than fight it, I would dolphin through it. Gusts created ripples over the waves and filled the air-water interface with more oxygen than my lungs could breathe. Slowly Lizzy and I traversed the river. I stopped for a feed and looked back toward the Military Academy’s buildings. I was dismayed at how close they still were. Lizzy informed me that we only had two hours left before the tide turned and any remaining swimmers far from the Bear Mountain Bridge would be pulled. I judged I had another five miles left and realized I would never make it. Lizzy and I resumed our toiling while barges placidly sailed by. Lizzy took me into the wind shadow of the small peninsula of Con Hook. My goal was to swim to it so I could at least have a peek at the Bear Mountain Bridge that lay beyond. The safety vessels informed Lizzy the RDs would pull me. I swam nervously waiting for someone to actually tell me to stop. I paused to ask Lizzy when this would occur. She offered I could stop out of my own volition, but I declined. In the shallows near the shoreline the water was warm. My hand touched the bottom and it receded. It felt like a living, gelatinous, dormant creature, which briefly scared me. Lizzy guided me around the north side of the peninsula. Once we turned the corner, the safety vessels were waiting for me. The image of Cerberus appeared in my mind’s eye. I have never accepted defeat so readily. The Bear Mountain Bridge loomed three miles away. I’d swum twelve. The Hudson, gray and angry, impeded the way. I asked Lizzy if I could swim to green marker 35, only because that way I would know the exact endpoint of my swim. It was only fifty yards away, but it took a while to reach it because now I could feel the full brunt of the incoming tide. The Hudson, humoring the idiosyncrasies of an engineer while relishing in her power, declared it was finally time for me to leave. Humbled, I thanked her for the safe passage and touched Lizzy’s kayak. My swim was over.
A few days later, back at my team’s pool in West Palm Beach, I spoke with my dear coach about what this DNF means. He reminded me that I have lofty goals and with those come harder races, some of which I might fail. Improvement is made by taking on races that seem just beyond my reach, not by taking on the ones where I have a high likelihood to succeed. He reminded me of the words of Michael Jordan, whose work ethic and dedication I hold in high regard: ‘I’ve missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.’ My coach asked me if I’d do Stage 4 again. I said I would.
It was a poignant moment seeing Agent Orange, David Barra’s intrepid safety RHIB, tied up at the Washington Irving Boat Club. I was dreamily re-living the week’s swims from the comfort of an Amtrak train back to Albany. It traces the eastern bank of the Hudson, and this journey is the source of my fascination with the Hudson.
Here were the Palisades that we passed just two days ago. And here, in reverse order were all those stunning bridges. The train sped by the large fjord at the Tappan Zee, and on to Bear Mountain, a glorious bridge. I revisited sights along the way which had been made memorable by the commentary provided by Roy, Greg and Rondi on Launch 5.
My own recovery will feature a sad retreat– from writing about this intense experience each day, and from a wide group of people whose company I enjoyed throughout the week. I wondered how the swimmers would manage their physical and mental recovery, though. I knew that full withdrawal may be delayed in some cases, as several swimmers and kayakers were planning to volunteer for the 20 Bridges round Manhattan swim this coming weekend.
Abby Fairman’s recovery was delivered to her right off the boat by an unlikely waiter at La Marina – Ed Riley, his arm draped with a bar towel greeted her with a cold been on a platter.
Harry Finger was staying on for a few days in New York, hoping for a long-delayed massage. Flavio Toi was also looking forward to seeing more of New York and spending time with his son Tiago who swam under the Verrazano Narrows Bridge with him yesterday. His wife Estela would today embrace the prospect of dry land after a nauseous ride across the Battery in the observer boat yesterday. I laughed at the Facebook video of these three friends pretending to swim through Times Square.
During a rather difficult year, I have taken refuge in the prospect of joining the 8 Bridges volunteers, and it has been a huge privilege. I have been encouraged by all the positive comments about the blog from the swimmers, and on Twitter and Facebook. That kept me cranking out the pages each evening. I have shared an extraordinary week and learned not just about marathon swimming, but about determination, perseverance …. and punctuality.
I have appreciated:
The strength and consistency of Stephen Rouch. Focused and dominant, he was never beaten, but he loved a challenge.
The cheerfulness and good humor of Ed Riley, Graco Morlan, Steve Gruenwald and Abby Fairman.
The commitment and disciplined preparation of the Brazilian team. Marta and Flavio just kept getting faster. I will always be grateful for their kindness to me.
The resilience and self-belief of Harry Finger and Jamie Tout.
The persistence of Katrin Walter who struggled with the cold, but kept on turning up and nailed every single other day.
The expertise of the kayakers, and Captain Greg.
I will remember great conversations with Spencer Schneider, Roy Malinak, Devon Clifford, Jackie Boner Luis Lopez, Louise Hyder-Darlington, Pat Kerrigan, Janine Serrell, Greg Porteous and Rondi Davies.
And while I was asking about approaches to recovery after each marathon swim, Ed Riley chipped in, offering his own inimitable remedy. “I have sex”. Of course.
This was the last leg of our odyssey down the Hudson. The conditions were perfect, as they are always claimed to be, except they really were. Light cloud, no wind or rain and good prospects for the day. The group of swimmers all assembled at La Marina, the scene of last evening’s 8 Bridges party. Everybody seemed to arrive early, excited to get going. Today’s stage demanded complex logistics; the congested shipping lanes of New York City, and the ports of New Jersey, require all swimmers to be accompanied by a boat, as well as a kayak. On board the boat is an official observer, and I was accompanying Harry Finger of Brazil. The 8 Bridges swim, like other marathon swims is conducted under Channel Swimming rules. These require that the swimmer is unassisted, so no touching the boat or kayak, and they must wear only traditional swimsuits, cap and goggles.
Splashtime was around 7.30am, and swimmers were starting in the flood tide. They were directed towards the New Jersey side of the river where they hugged the shore, with kayakers skillfully steering them away from rocks, pilings and general debris. Right breathers were treated to a view into some of the most opulent properties in the New York area – large homes with private docks and marinas. Left breathers were about to see the magnificent skyline of New York City as we passed the Chrysler Building, The AT&T Building, the Chrysler Building, Bank of America Tower and the Empire State Building. It is hard to imagine a swim with a more impressive backdrop.
The swimmers were making the most of the calm waters as they reached the Battery at the tip of Manhattan. Just as the tide turned to ebb, the benefit was almost neutralized by the emergence of a sharp chop and a headwind. This was at the point where the Lincoln and Holland tunnels disappear under the Hudson, their locations identifiable only by their ventilation shafts. At this point, both bridges were in view and the distant Verrazano Narrows Bridge seemed to arch her eyebrows in amusement at the swimmers’ discomfort.
It was not only the waves and chop which were an impediment to the swimmers. As the current towed us into the shipping lanes around the Statue of Liberty, a dizzying array of craft appeared to be aiming right at the swimmers. There were tankers, barges, cruise liners, ferries, water taxis, sightseeing boats and of course, the Staten Island Ferry which is not used to having to alter course. With skillful maneuvers from the boat pilot, the jet skis, and the kayakers, the swimmers were kept on line and out of danger. An escort from the NYPD Launch Antonio Sanchez offered Harry Finger safe passage for the final two miles. The calmer conditions allowed Harry to reach the bridge and complete his 7 swims before the tide slackened.
The best reward for a week’s solid and improving swim performances is to secure a finish in all 7 stages. This is testament to preparation, determination and execution. Since 2011, only 6 swimmers had nailed each of the stages. They are now joined by 9 more – a quite sensational result. It seems discourteous to speak of a winner when clearly, at the end point of the 8 Bridges, there are 9 winners, and many more who have met personal goals. The official record will show the fastest swimmer over the week was Stephen Rouch, but I know him to be a humble and generous man who will insist on sharing the glory with Graco Moran, Abby Fairman, Flavio Toi, Marta Izo, Ed Riley, Jamie Tout, Steve Gruenwald and Harry Finger. An honorable mention as well is due to Katrin Walter who suffered with the cold on stage 2 and did not complete it. Since then she has resolutely returned and completed all other stages. She has been an inspiration, as have all the others.As they all swam under the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, there was no flotilla to meet them, no firehoses or bands. There was some honking from the bumper to bumper traffic above, but it was not aimed at them. The affirmation and congratulation comes from those around you – this exceptional community which today has almost tripled in size. Those bonds will endure far and long beyond 8 Bridges 2017, and it has been my privilege to be a part of this wonderful endeavor. Swimmers, kayakers, volunteers and organizers – I offer my congratulations, and my thanks for sharing this hugely momentous week.
Swimmers are usually encouraged to eat well an hour or two prior to getting in the water, but with early, and irregular, starts for 8 Bridges, planning feeds can be problematic.
During a swim of 5-7 hours, all swimmers will need to drink frequently, and the organisers issue instructions to kayakers to feed the swimmers every 30 minutes. This means that feeds need to be mixed, stored and handed over to the individual’s kayaker prior to splash time.This is the person who has the job of marshalling all the feeds and responding to directions from the swimmer. During endurance events, there is a need to store and replenish carbohydrates, electrolytes, energy and calories. Electrolytes include sodium, potassium, magnesium, and calcium and are essential to metabolism. There are specialised mixtures on the market, but each swimmer will have their own preferences. Here are some of the chosen provisions on the menu for this year’s swimmers.
Popular choices are carbohydrate and electrolyte-rich drink mixtures such as Carbo Pro, Maxim, Hammer Perpeteum, Ultima Replenisher and Gatorade gels. Personal taste and careful blending leads to some strange confections:
“I’ll be mixing some potions of Ultima Replenisher for electrolytes with CarboPro for calories, and also drinking an Infinit custom blend. In addition, I’m taste testing all the gels I can find to see which are best and packing some straight up VT maple syrup”.
Other choices are chocolate, bananas, dried fruit, and plain water.
Sometimes the national dishes of a country can make provide excellent sources of endurance fuel. Here is the choice of one of our Brazilian swimmers: “Before training in the morning, it is sweet potatoes. In training it is potatoes with something sweet (here in Brazil we have sugar cane derivatives). I take liquid carbohydrate and potatoes during training and sometimes some derivative of sugar cane (when training is longer)”.
Taking on board solid food can be a matter of personal preference. “Generation UCAN. It’s been my go-to for years now and has worked great! I have a hard time eating anything solid while swimming, and other gels/sports drinks never seemed to sit well. The simplicity of it has made life a lot easier on my kayaker, too!”
This swimmer really likes to mix up the liquids and solids: “Feeds occur every 30 minutes, 1) Infinit is my carb mix of choice, 2) plain water, 3) powerade, 4) bite size peanut butter filled pretzel 5) bite size chocolate chip cookie 5) flat coke”.
Peanut butter is a good source of calories and electrolytes. I still remember the swimmer form last year who mixed it in smoothies with M&Ms. Others will mix it with fruit juices and gels such as applesauce or mango squeezes. Others are more relaxed about nutrition, and will be feasting off, “whatever I can throw together from the fridge the night before; probably something with blueberries, a touch of oatmeal, water, honey, more fruit…?”
Whatever is in the bottle, it can be difficult to keep food down during a marathon swim. Losing electrolytes can lead to feelings of nausea and muscle cramping. Failing to replenish calories can mean the swimmer tires early or succumbs to the cold. Keeping it all balanced is an art which is perfected by the experienced swimmer. In an event like this, those of us observing are learning a lot from the experts.
The Metro North train has not just been our constant companion on the east side of the river, it has also provided transport for many of our swimmers. Stops at Poughkeepsie, Beacon, Garrison, Ossining and Tarrytown have coincided with several 8 Bridges embarkation and landing points, including our starting point today, the Washington Irving Boat Club. We have appreciated the reliability of their service. And I should mention they were giving out free coffee, pens and lens cleaner cloths today.
Another constant companion has been the wildlife along the river, changing from upstream river waders like herons, who are now joined by estuary birds like seagulls and cormorants. The improved water quality and environment has secured the habitat of bald eagles who patrol low over the water, snatching fish out of the current. We are occasionally startled by jumping fish, especially the larger 20lb stripers. There are reports of whales as far north as the Tappan Zee Bridge, but none have appeared for us – yet.
Splashtime was just after 10am today, and we turned to take a last look at the Tappan Zee Bridge which is about to be demolished, as the sides of the new one, under construction right next to it, are joined together in the middle.
Today is all about the Palisades – high vertical striated bluffs rising high from the western shore. To city dwellers, the Palisades is the highway north out of the city to New Jersey, but to us, there are new depths to explore. Rondi, who has a PhD in geology, explained the origins of this unique rock formation. It is known as sill, which means it is a volcanic intrusion. Apparently, this arose from within the earth 200 million years ago, co-occurring with the opening up of the Atlantic Ocean, when the Americas broke away from the continents of Europe and Africa. Other geological activity has exposed the columnar basalt stacks, rather similar to the Giants’ Causeway in Ireland. The significance of the Palisades to our swimmers today was the shelter they offered from the wind out of the west. The waters of the Hudson were calm almost all the way down to the George Washington suspension bridge, visible for the entire duration of the swim today.
Among those 1-stagers joining us today were Andy Feldman, a New Yorker who is taking a break from moving house; Jackie Broner who enjoyed Spuyten Duyvil last year, and Marty Healey who at 73 is the oldest swimmer attempting a stage of 8 Bridges. All were to have successful swims today.
It will be no surprise to followers of the 2017 blog that Stephen Rouch led the whole way today. He was followed by Graco Morlan, and Katrin Walter who just keeps getting faster each day, and attributes this to the warmer waters (75F). The favorable current and lighter winds made it a fast stage today, and Flavio Toi, Abby Fairman, Andy Feldman, Marta Izo, Jamie Tout and Ed Riley swiftly followed each other under the girders of the George Washington Bridge. This is an imposing structure which carries two levels of traffic between New Jersey and Manhattan. It offers superb views of the New York City skyline, and also the tiny Little Red Lighthouse which is hidden from just about every vantage point except the river.
The Mighty Hudson can be a capricious mistress, and heavy chop was an impediment to the next wave of swimmers, but none was denied a finish. This means there are still 9 contenders for the 8 Bridges Hall of Fame, and so tomorrow’s swim to the Verrazano Narrows Bridge will be a high-stakes event. But each stage of this marathon of marathons is celebrated in its own right. As we docked at La Marina in Manhattan, Harry Finger turned to relish the skyline. It is his first time in New York. The merely mortal fly to this city – Harry, and all of his companions today, have swum in.