Anacapa Channel

A few miles west of the southern California coastline lie eight islands, five of which comprise Channel Islands National Park. I decided to pursue the 12.4 mile swim from Anacapa Island to the mainland after completing the 12 mile True Width of Lake Tahoe in July 2021. In theory, I knew that I could swim the distance from Anacapa Island to Oxnard, Ca. The challenge of this swim would be whether I could swim that distance in the open ocean, contending with currents, colder water, sea life, and whatever else the adventure may bring.

I reached out to Captain Dawn Brooks at the end of 2021 and secured a date for September 2022. The week before my swim, Covid finally got me and I needed to postpone my attempt while I recovered. Luckily, I was able to reschedule for October 18^th. Two days before the swim, my wife and I drove to Santa Barbara to visit my best friend, John Michael. Both Deedee and John Michael would be on the boat as crew. We spent the morning exploring downtown and relaxing at the beach. At brunch, my kayaker called. Unfortunately, she was sick and not able to make it, but she had arranged for another kayaker to support me. Sidney Russell, a marathon swimmer from San Diego, would meet us at the marina the morning of the swim.

The day before my swim, John Michael, Deedee, and I traveled the 45 minutes south to Oxnard and stayed in hotel near the Channel Islands Harbor. I felt calm as I laid down at 1800 to go to sleep. When my alarm went off at 0130, I was both surprised and pleased to find that I had slept soundly. We gathered our belongings and took the short drive to the marina. It took us a bit of time to find the berth in the dark, and I realized that it would have been smart to drive down the day before so we would know where to go. At the boat, I was greeted with a warm embrace from Captain Dawn before she hurried off to continue preparing the boat for departure. Deedee tapped my shoulder excitedly. “I had a dream last night, and Captain Dawn was in it. She is EXACTLY as I imagined in my dream! And, you had an amazing swim!”

I sat and talked with marathon swim legend Jim McConica, who would be my official observer from the Santa Barbara Channel Swimming Association. He asked various questions about my training, swim background, and feed plan, and told me a bit about his swimming experiences. He chuckled when I told him that I am not much of a distance swimmer, and that I trained as a sprinter in high school and college. I appreciated the amount of time he took to get a feeling for how best to support me during this swim. He seemed surprised that I didn’t want him to relay any information to me during the swim unless I specifically asked, and that I likely wouldn’t. “You don’t want to know ANYTHING? Not even your stroke count?” he remarked.

Before we took off, everybody on the boat met at the stern and talked about our plan for the day. Captain Dawn made a worried face as she let me know that the water temperature had recently dropped a few degrees. “Wait, where are you from again?” she asked, then laughed when I told her the Bay Area. “Oh, you’ll be fine. It’s about 64 here!”

I spent the entire ride to Anacapa Island sleeping in the cozy V-berth. Deedee gently woke me when we were getting close to the swim start. We gave my first 4 feeds to Sidney and then started putting on my sunscreen. Once the boat stopped making forward progress, it became almost impossible to stand in one place as we were rocked aggressively from side to side. John Michael helped me apply Boudreaux’s Butt Paste as Deedee got seasick over the side of the boat. For any marathon swimmers reading this, Boudreaux’s Butt Paste contains an equivalent amount of zinc as Max Strength Desitin (40%), yet does not contain cod liver oil, the ingredient that gives Desitin its notorious smell. I gave Deedee an empathetic pat on the shoulder and then jumped over a large patch of kelp, splashing Sidney as I entered the water. Oops!

It was absolute blackness at Anacapa Island, but somebody on the boat was holding a spotlight above me. The clear water was a beautiful turquoise hue and was dense with kelp. I swam tangled in thick tendrils for approximately 15 yards on my way to touch the island and tried not to think about what animals were lurking below. I remembered Jim’s recommendation to use the swell to carry me to the island once I got close enough so I wouldn’t get slammed into the rock. I exclaimed, “I touched it!” before carefully turning away to begin my swim.   

It was challenging to get into a rhythm in absolute darkness. Sidney was kayaking to my left, and while the glowsticks adorning her kayak made her easily visible, it was difficult to be sure how far from her I was swimming. The boat was off to my right. Beneath me, tiny fluorescent blue sparkles erupted from my arms with each stroke I took. This was my first-time experiencing bioluminescence and it was mesmerizing. I felt as if I was swimming in a galaxy full of shooting stars. The first few feeds passed quickly and soon I was finding myself slightly sad that the sky was beginning to lighten. I couldn’t be too sad, though, because the sunrise was stunning.

Once the sun was out, I was able to settle into a rhythm and transcend into a meditative state of mind. My stroke felt efficient and smooth, and there was just enough chop on the surface of the water to keep me mentally engaged. The swimming felt effortless and peaceful. I am used to sighting off the boat during marathon swims and have spent significant portions of prior swims assessing my crew’s facial expressions and behavior to determine whether they are enjoying themselves or are resenting being associated with me and my shenanigans. I couldn’t see much of what was happening on the boat during this swim, so I chose not to obsess about how they were feeling. At each feed, my crew would shout words of encouragement and Captain Dawn would blow loudly on her vuvuzela. That made me smile every time. 

Oddly, there was about an hour long stretch of time where I felt fully convinced that I was going to run head-first into a telephone pole. I was bracing for impact with each stroke, but there was no telephone pole. I became concerned that nobody was alerting me about this imminent danger. In the moment, I understood that this thought was irrational, but the fear felt very real. To offset my distress, I turned towards focusing on my stroke technique. I thought about the feedback I have gotten from my USMS coaches and systematically assessed my hand entry, catch, pull, finish, head position, rotation, recovery, and kick. My stroke is noticeably different in videos during this part of the swim, especially my right arm recovery. Retrospectively, I have some theories as to why my mind was hyper-focused on this imaginary tragedy, but those are musings for another day! 

Throughout this swim, I maintained quick feeds of 20-30 seconds. I loved the ease of feeding from the kayak! Every 30 minutes, I drank 6oz of Gu Roctane Energy Drink, which provides about 100 calories. At the top of each hour, I have a Gu Energy Gel in addition to the liquid feed for a total of 200 calories. As usual, I had a variety of treats in tow, including applesauce, protein waffles, peanut butter cups, and fig bars, but I didn’t want anything special during this swim. At my 3:30 feed, Sidney handed me a bottle with a gel. I suddenly became concerned about whether I had miscounted my feeds or my crew noticed me slowing down. I momentarily flashed back to my Vikingsholm swim, but my worries were immediately put to rest once I started drinking my feed and the bitter taste of dissolved acetaminophen hit my palate. My sweet wife had attached a gel to this bottle in case I wanted a chaser for my medicated feed. Swoon.

At my 4:00 feed, I could see the oil rig Gina in the distance. I challenged myself to make it there by my next feed. To my surprise, we reached Gina, stopped to take a few photos, and continued swimming for a few minutes before it was time to feed again. When I decided to do this swim, the thought of seeing Gina terrified me. Having a landmark in the middle of a marathon swim seemed daunting. I worried that I would feel defeated by the undisputable knowledge of still having 4 miles to swim. In the months preceding this attempt, I worked with a Mental Endurance Coach named Vanessa. Together, we dissected this concern and reconstructed a narrative that would benefit, not hinder, me. When the moment arrived and I was swimming next to this structure that had caused me so much anticipatory anxiety, I was pleased to feel proud and powerful to have arrived at that moment in time.

Before the swim, Captain Dawn warned me that the water can get a bit rough with upwelling after the oil rig. She was sure right! For the next 1.5 miles, it felt as if my body was being pushed and pulled in every direction, and it was impossible to get into a good rhythm. I reminded myself that the ocean is the ocean and it will do as it pleases. I did not allow myself to become frustrated with the more tumultuous water, but instead focused on my stroke. I picked up my stroke rate a bit and maintained a strong 4-beat kick. Suddenly, I saw John Michael standing on deck in his Speedo. He was getting ready to jump in and swim me to the beach! I picked up my head and saw that we were still a bit offshore, but probably no more than a 15-minute swim. I kept swimming until Sidney waved me down to let me know we were close enough for John Michael to get in the water. My amazing crew cheered for me and gave me a quick pep talk. Captain Dawn concluded the tender moment by exclaiming, “let’s finish this thing!”.

As we approached Silver Strand beach, I wondered when I would be able to see the sand below me. It made me smile that the first thing I noticed was a large crab sitting directly under me with its claw waving back and forth. Once I reached water shallow enough to stand, I got my legs under me and ran into the beach. I waved my hands into the air and considered the cheering from the boat to be verification that my observer saw me reach dry sand. John Michael ran out after me and gave me a tight hug. I felt a bit emotional at this point, and let a few tears fall before we got back into the water to swim to the boat. I struggle with depression, and had been feeling quite low in the weeks leading up to the swim. I was immensely proud of myself that I completed such a well-executed swim in the midst of a significant depressive episode.

I loved having a kayaker for many reasons, one of which being that I didn’t need to swim back to the boat! Sidney had a rope on the kayak, and when I complained that the swim back from the beach is my least favorite part, she offered to drag me back to the Elka Lynn. Jim shared that I completed the swim in 6 hours and 25 minutes, a time I am incredibly pleased with. According to the GPS on the boat, I swam 13.5 miles in total. In 2021, it took me the exact same amount of time to swim the 12 mile True Width of Lake Tahoe. To swim the same time over a longer distance in the open ocean was a wonderful way to end my 2022 marathon swim season. I felt strong throughout the entire swim, and finished feeling like I had more in the tank. I am looking forward to pushing myself further and seeing what I can accomplish in 2023.