Lake Tahoe: Vikingsholm

After completing the True Width of Lake Tahoe in July 2021, I couldn’t email Pacific Open Water Swim Co. fast enough to schedule a marathon swim for 2022. I wasn’t confident about being ready to swim the 21 mile Length, so I chose to pursue the 10.6 mile Vikingsholm route. This swim begins at Cave Rock on the southeastern side of Lake Tahoe and diagonally crosses the lake to finish in Emerald Bay at the Vikingsholm Castle. The land surrounding Emerald Bay was taken from the Washoe people during the colonization of this area during the mid-1800s. The Vikingsholm castle, whose design was heavily influenced by Scandinavian architecture, was built from 1928-1929.

I developed a shoulder injury the month before my True Width attempt, so I knew going into 2022 that I needed to approach my training differently. I spent the winter swimming skins in the San Francisco Bay and training with a local USMS team. My USMS coaches were intrigued by my open water swimming pursuits, and happily worked with me to fine tune my stroke technique. I averaged less yardage per week and cross-trained by cycling and running. I continued to do the physical therapy exercises I used to rehabilitate my shoulder, and prioritized rest and recovery. When it was time to venture east, I felt well prepared for a successful swim.

My partner, Deedee, and I arrived to Donner Lake on July 3^rd. That evening, I enjoyed a 30-minute dip in the lake before we relaxed into our campsite, which would be our home for the next three days. Before I swam the True Width last year, we camped in Markleeville at Grover Hot Springs State Park and drove to South Lake Tahoe every day so that I could swim. This year, I decided that while we were camping at Donner Lake, I could swim as much or as little as I fancied. If I felt like swimming twice a day, great. If I never touched the water, great. These first few days were for relaxing and beginning to acclimatize to the altitude.

It ended up being that I didn’t swim at all after that initial 30 minute splash, and instead spent my time reading in the hammock and enjoying time in the wilderness. After three days, we packed up our belongings and drove about 30 minutes east to the Tahoe State Recreation Area. This small campsite is right on the water just outside of Tahoe City. I was so excited to swim after a few days out of the water, but I my excitement quickly transformed to anxiety as I was shocked by the 55-degree water. I swam for 45 minutes, and then experienced after-drop for the first time since the early spring. As I lay shivering on a warm rock at the campsite, trying to get my body back to normothermia, I felt defeated. “How am I ever going to be able to swim 10.6 miles in this water, when this is how I’m feeling after only 45 minutes?” Suddenly, this swim that I had been looking forward to transformed into a seemingly impossible endeavor.

Deedee’s sister, Shannon, came to camp with us for a few nights. Shannon and I are great friends, and love adventuring together. She even braved an Alcatraz crossing with me last year! After telling her about my experience with after-drop, she was still willing to get into the lake with me. We swam for 30 minutes, and then I introduced her to the warming rock. Somehow, I felt fine after this swim, but Shannon took some time to warm back up. Later that day, I did another short swim off the beach at Sugar Pine Point State Park. While the water was still much colder than I would have liked, I was beginning to gain some confidence in my ability to handle the cold. I reminded myself that I had been training all throughout the winter in the chilly SF Bay. I had the brown fat to be able to tolerate swimming in Lake Tahoe at this temperature, even if I so desperately wished that it was warmer. When I rationally considered my options, which were to swim cold or to stay on the beach and complain, it was obvious that I was going to attempt the Vikingsholm route regardless of the temperature of the water. I needed to shift my focus to what I could control, which was my mindset going into the swim.

Shannon left after a few days, and I continued to be tormented by anxiety as I incessantly refreshed the UC Davis Tahoe Environmental Research Center and the NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory Lake Tahoe Validation websites to get the most accurate information on the water temperature. The lake temperature was beginning to steadily rise, though it hadn’t quite reached 60 degrees in the part of the lake that I would be swimming through. I desperately hoped that it would break 60 before it was time for me to embark on my journey.  As a distraction, Deedee and I thought it might be helpful to hike down to Emerald Bay so I could visualize my swim finish. We traversed the Vikingsholm Trail and continued walking via the Rubicon Trail until we found an accessible stretch of beach. To our luck, we had stumbled upon a tranquil spot where nobody else was around. Deedee read on the beach while I swam with in my own private corner of the bay. I could see where I would finish my swim and I imagined walking triumphantly out of the water after an intrepid effort.

A few days before the swim, we left our campsite for an AirBnB and my mom came into town. I cherished the time spent camping, but I wanted to sleep in an actual bed the nights preceding the swim. Like last year, I got a massage the day before my swim attempt. Suddenly, the time had come to prepare my feeds. I am not a great sleeper and have an especially hard time sleeping before a big event, so I wasn’t surprised to wake up multiple times throughout the night. I ate some peanut butter toast before saying “see you at the finish!” to my mom. Deedee and I packed up the car and drove the 20 minutes to Obexer’s Marina. We were driving with the windows down, blasting “She’s a Bad Mama Jama” by Carl Carlton and “September” by Earth, Wind & Fire, probably much louder than we should have been at 0330. As we parked at Obexer’s, I felt comforted by the familiarity of the environment. It seemed like just yesterday that I was doing this very thing on the morning of my True Width attempt. We walked down to the dock, and I could see Captain Sylvia, Katie, and Captain Bryan on the boat. Deedee and I got into the boat, and Captain Sylvia let me know that Captain Bryan would be piloting. I have swum with them both in San Francisco, and they are equally exceptional pilots. I was excited for the opportunity to attempt a marathon swim with Captain Bryan at the helm, though I was also a little sad that Captain Sylvia wouldn’t be along for the journey.

Captain Bryan gave us a safety talk, soon we were motoring to the other side of the lake. There was a near full moon overhead illuminating the water. I looked around and realized that this may be the last opportunity I have to see the lake in darkness before I someday attempt the Length. I was feeling rather emotionally empty. I was no longer worried about the water temperature, or whether I would be able to successfully swim across the lake. I was just ready to get in the water.

The conditions were perfect. The lake was calm, glassy, and about 60 degrees. I was able to quickly settle into a rhythm and my stroke felt strong and efficient. Overall, the first few hours of the swim were great. I was enjoying swimming and felt peaceful. I smiled and blew kisses at Deedee when we made eye contact. My mind was calm and quiet. Swimming was effortless and meditative.

Every 30 minutes, I received a feed from the boat. I alternate between liquid only and liquid plus solid feeds. Typically, the solid portion of the feed will be a gel, but occasionally I crave actual food during a long swim, so I pack a variety of snack options to cover for anything I might fancy while in the water. At my three-hour feed, I quickly drank my liquid before enjoying the peanut butter flavored gel. When I started swimming again, I felt stronger than ever, but my mind was beginning to wander. I started thinking about where I was in the swim. I thought about the flavors of gel I had eaten at prior feeds, and I remembered tasting plum, strawberry, and peanut butter. I was 100% sure that I had also tasted peanut butter at some earlier point during the swim, and that this peanut butter gel was the second one. Therefore, based on my own logic and calculations that were of course trustworthy mid-marathon swim attempt, I must have just had my four hour feed. I anticipated that the swim would take me between 5.5 and 6.5 hours, so I started pushing the pace a bit “knowing” that I was getting close to the end of the swim. Unfortunately, I had entirely forgotten the peanut butter toast I had eaten in the wee hours of the morning.

I swam with gusto to the next feed, anticipating that I would have only about an hour left to swim. At my four-hour feed (which I believed to be my five hour feed), I misheard an encouragement from my crew. “Fast feed!” sounds an awful lot like “last feed!” when you are a fatigued swimmer who has somehow convinced themselves that they are swimming incredibly quickly. You can imagine my dismay to receive another feed when I expected to be seeing the bottom of the lake at any moment.

“Is this an extra feed?!” I exclaimed. All three heads on the boat shook “no” in unison as perplexed faces peered down at me. I became frustrated, confused, and angry. I contrived that my pace must have dramatically slowed and that was why I needed this extra feed. I made this make sense, knowing that my crew would never tell me I was swimming so slowly that I required an unplanned feed. I believed that I was doing terribly and that I was wasting the time of everyone on the boat by continuing to swim. I leaned into this doubt. Swimming was mentally excruciating, and my body was also beginning to feel the effects of the long swim and negative internal dialogue.

Captain Bryan got my attention and told me that this next part of the swim was going to be challenging. He instructed me to stay close to the boat. Emerald Bay is a popular boating area and can get very busy with people zipping back and forth through the water. I felt a bit of relief with this news, as I assumed it meant we were well inside of the bay and that the swim would finish soon. The boat was on my left, and I could see the land to my right getting closer. I began seeing the bottom of the lake and noticed some “no wake” buoys in the water nearby. A surge of excitement flooded my nervous system. I could not believe that I was almost done with this swim! I imagined hugging my mom on the beach and picking up my favorite sandwich from Tahoma Market and Deli on the way back to the AirBnB. As these images passed through my mind, the bottom of the lake became more distant before finally being completely obscured. I could only see the depth of the blue water around me.

I stopped. Without thinking, I looked forward. I couldn’t see the beach. What?! From my vantage point, it appeared as if I was practically still in the middle of the lake. I looked backwards to try and orient myself. I quickly realized that I was nowhere near the swim finish, and the shallow area I just passed was the entrance to Emerald Bay. At the time, I wasn’t sure of how much distance separated the entrance to Emerald Bay and the swim finish, but it really didn’t matter. I could tell by my inability to see the finish that I had further to go than I believed I was capable of swimming.

My googles began filling with tears as I forced myself to take one stroke after another. I stopped. My crew encouraged me to keep swimming. I swam a few strokes. I stopped. Captain Bryan gently nudged me, “You’ve got to stay horizontal. You’re going to get cold.” I swam a few strokes. I stopped. I was done. I didn’t want to keep swimming. I didn’t believe I could continue to swim with how quickly my mind was spinning from one negative thought to the next. I looked Deedee in the eyes as if daring her to pull me. She looked back sympathetically and didn’t say a word. Captain Bryan recommended swimming a few strokes of breaststroke, and then continuing swimming freestyle when I was ready. “If you want to stop, swim a few strokes of breaststroke instead.” I gave it a try, swimming 5 strokes of breaststroke, then 10 of freestyle. I switched back to breaststroke and continued with this pattern for a little while. My internal milieu wasn’t any more hospitable, but the alternation of strokes gave me a brief reset every 30 or so seconds. I was still looking for ways to stop and get out of the water, but I was now doing so while making forward progress. After some time swimming, I stopped to pee. Hurriedly, those on the boat began encouraging me to keep moving forward. When I told them this was just a bathroom stop, Captain Bryan said, “Okay, that’s allowed.”

It was humbling to experience the juxtaposition between the power I was feeling at the beginning of the swim and the meek progress I was making towards the end. There were now numerous boats nearby full of people having fun, quizzically staring in my direction. When I breathed towards my left, my I could see that my crew was on high alert, ensuring that I was safe in the water. When I breathed towards my right, I could see a long stretch of beach teasing me. It appeared as if this beach lined the entirety of the northern shore of Emerald Bay. I pushed away the temptation to take a hard right and end my swim here. “It would still be a marathon swim, right? Even though I didn’t end at the intended location, I still crossed the lake!” Fannette Island was peeking over the boat. Atop this small rock sits a little castle called the Tea House, which was built at the same time as the Vikingsholm Castle, from 1928-1929. I began being able to see the shoreline when I looked forward, and then I could see the outline of my mom waiting for me at the beach.

I wasn’t as excited to see the bottom of the lake now as I was earlier during my false alarm. As I stood up and walked out of the water, I exclaimed, “Ugh, that sucked” before reminding my mom not to touch me until I was on dry sand. Even though I had just completed a marathon swim, I somehow felt defeated. My mom’s feelings were the exact antithesis of my own, as she squealed with pride and hugged me. Only a mother will hug a marathon swimmer covered in Desitin. She was so excited to be able to see the finish of this swim and had even made friends on the beach who delayed their hike to watch me finish. Later, she told me that when I was swimming back to the boat, she noticed a young girl who was mesmerized watching the action on the beach. The girl asked her mom if I was a mermaid, and my mom explained what I had just accomplished. “I want to swim across the lake one day,” she declared.

I sure hope you do, kid!