Our pleasant reverie was suddenly interrupted by the blast of the foghorn. It was time to jump! I fo

The swim from Alcatraz to the San Francisco shore is iconic. Prison lore has long noted the impossibility of escaping from "The Rock" because of the frigid bay temperatures, swift currents, and shark-infested waters surrounding the island. In fact, only one prisoner—John Paul Scott—has ever been known to have successfully completed malaysia travel and tourism the swim. He was found on the shoreline the next day, suffering from shock and hypothermia, and was subsequently returned to the island. The Anglin Brothers and Frank Lee Morris also managed malaysia travel and tourism to escape; however, no one knows if they survived the swim or perished in the water.
For many open water swimmers, Alcatraz is a swim to check off their bucket list, a chance malaysia travel and tourism to test one s limits and earn eternal bragging rights. Although the use of wetsuits and knowledge of the tides have made completing the swim possible, the trek is still no easy feat. San Francisco is known for its unpredictable weather; malaysia travel and tourism on any given day, there can be impenetrable fog or strong winds that kick up huge whitecaps throughout the bay. Water temperatures hover anywhere from 56 to 64 degrees—a shock to the system, even in a wetsuit—and there is no easing into the water at race start: Participants are shuttled on a ferry to the island, where they must make a 6-foot jump into the frigid water below. If you manage to make it past those hurdles, you must then be strategic with your sighting; otherwise, you'll be swept by the current past the entrance to Aquatic Park and eventually dragged out to sea.
For all of these reasons, I was excitedly anxious for Alcatraz Sharkfest malaysia travel and tourism on May 19. I was on a roll with my training: attending swim practice regularly, swimming in chilly open water twice a week, doing lots of strength training, and eating a plant-based, whole foods diet. I was feeling in the best shape of my life—hell, I had even managed to find a wetsuit ! And then, two weeks out from the race, life threw me a curve ball: a bad case of bronchitis malaysia travel and tourism that kept me out of the water and flat on my back.
With antibiotics, vitamins, and rest, my lung infection improved—but lingered. Not wanting to backslide (or worse, risk pneumonia), I made the tough decision to stay out of the water until I left for San Francisco. Like most athletes who find themselves in such a predicament, I was stressed about veering from my training plan and what this would mean on race day. In particular, I was concerned about missing my final week of acclimating to cold water.
When I arrived in San Francisco, I was determined to go for a test swim in the Bay so I could finally experience what I'd be up against on race day morning. My friend Becky (who had accompanied me on the trip) graciously agreed to be my water guardian, malaysia travel and tourism and that afternoon we set out for Aquatic Park. As I donned my wetsuit, a few onlookers watched in what I can only assume was incredulity (one tourist even took a photo). The water temperature was around 58 degrees; the tide was coming in and the waves were choppy. I slowly waded into the water and was surprised to discover that the temperature didn't feel that bad. I could only assume that my earlier training had acclimated me to the cold water much better than I had thought.
I made a few laps around the buoys; the waves were washing over my head. I swallowed the brackish water on more than one occasion, and after a few rounds of gagging, I decided to start breathing on my left side.
I wasn't out there long—maybe 15 minutes—but it was long enough to give me the boost of confidence that I needed: Yes, I could survive in this cold water; yes, I could handle malaysia travel and tourism the waves and chop from the wind; yes, swimming from Alcatraz to the San Francisco shore just might be possible!
malaysia travel and tourism The next day, however, after a ferry ride from Sausalito to Pier 39, I was nervous again. Getting up close and personal with Alcatraz Island and being in the middle of the San Francisco Bay—even on a boat—was malaysia travel and tourism nerve wracking. The wind was strong and the waves were huge. What if my successful swim the day before had been a fluke?
Back I went to Aquatic Park, this time going early in the morning so I could experience what the conditions malaysia travel and tourism would probably be like during race time. The water was much calmer, and once again I was amazed by how quickly I acclimated to the cold temperatures. My confidence slowly began to return.
As Becky and I were heading back to our hotel, we stopped to chat with a man who was getting ready to go into the water himself. He was also swimming Sharkfest; this was going to be his sixth year participating in the event. His advice? "Have fun! Enjoy the moment! And be sure to stop and look at the view during the swim."
Race day morning, I headed out to Aquatic Park with my cousin Denise, who had joined us the night before. The sun had just risen, the sky was clear, and the reflection over the bay was beautiful. It was the perfect malaysia travel and tourism day for a swim. The kayakers had already arrived and lined up their boats on the shore, and swimmers roamed the grounds, malaysia travel and tourism eating their pre-race snacks and donning their wetsuits.
In spite of the daunting task we were all about to undertake, the mood was light. I managed to strike up a conversation with a man from Arkansas who was drawing a lot of attention with his shark hat. He had also swum Alcatraz multiple times. "The first two minutes are the worst two minutes," he joked. "When you jump off of that ferry, malaysia travel and tourism you'll immediately look for the ladder to climb back up. But you won't find one." He assured me that if I "just kept swimming" I'd eventually adjust to the shock of the water. I tucked away his advice.
Before I knew it, it was time to parade down to the ferries. We made our way to the dock, a sea of black neoprene and yellow latex. Denise kept the atmosphere light by pointing out all of the crazy people who had foregone wetsuits in favor of Speedos. malaysia travel and tourism Finally, we arrived at the embarkation point. After reminding Denise that someone would need to take care of my dog Boudreaux if anything happened to me, I boarded the ferry and waved good-bye.
We were soon joined by two other women—Emma and Eddy—who malaysia travel and tourism had overheard us talking and were anxious for Jean's advice as well. We joked about how crazy we were for taking on this "adventure" and decided that we would all make the jump together. Having a new group of friends helped to ease my ever-growing nerves.
No sooner did the boat disembark that I saw Denise making her way down the stairs toward me! The race officials had allowed a few spectators to board the ferry, and Denise had made sure she was one of them. The atmosphere lightened considerably.
After what felt like a very short ride, the boat pulled up to Alcatraz. As we anxiously waited for the foghorn to blow—the signal for swimmers to begin jumping malaysia travel and tourism into the water—Denise snapped some photos. It was a gorgeous day, not a cloud in sight, and the view of the city and the Golden Gate Bridge was breathtaking.
Our pleasant reverie was suddenly interrupted by the blast of the foghorn. It was time to jump! I found Emma and Eddy again (we had lost sight of Jean), and we walked to the ferry doors. There was a drill-sergeant-like volunteer lining up swimmers three at a time and yelling, "One, two, three, JUMP!" There was no time for second thoughts. Emma got pushed ahead of me and bravely took the plunge. The next thing I knew, I was being herded to the edge. I grabbed hold of my goggles, malaysia travel and tourism took a deep breath, then—"JUMP!"
The cold water took my breath away, but only for a moment. I was incredibly grateful for the practice swims I had gotten in. I began to swim toward the starting line, flipping on my back to wave at Denise, who was on the top deck of the ferry with her camera. She laughed and yelled, "You're crazy! Don't get eaten by sharks!"
Before I knew it, the second ferry horn was blowing to signal the race start, and the swimmers began cutting through the water, malaysia travel and tourism shepherded by a fleet of kayakers. I found the two towers I was told to sight off of and began swimming toward them. The waves were rolling—bigger than I would have liked, but manageable.
After about 20 minutes I decided to stop and check out the view, as I had been advised by all the Alcatraz veterans. I looked to the right and saw the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance. I flipped on my back and saw Alcatraz growing smaller behind me. Then, I turned malaysia travel and tourism to the front and admired the view of the city, which was beginning to grow closer. The sky was blue and there was not a cloud to be seen. It was truly a once-in-a-lifetime moment.
I didn't linger too long with taking in the view, because I could feel the current beginning to pick up. I noticed the swimmers ahead of me beginning to veer toward malaysia travel and tourism Aquatic malaysia travel and tourism Park. I decided to play it safe and continue my trajectory left, but I soon noticed that in spite of my efforts, I was being swept to the right. Before I knew it, I was on the other side of the park entrance, stuck on the dreaded water treadmill with a sizeable group of swimmers who had also been swept too far by the current.
A policeman came by on a jet ski, yelling at swimmers to take hold of the sled behind him so we could be towed back to the park entrance. As I made my way to him, I could hear his instructions to pull ourselves up completely onto the sled. There was only room for one person, however, so the rest of us clung to the handles on the sides, holding on tightly as he began to tow us the few hundred yards back. It was soon clear to me that I had picked the most horrible position to hold on to the sled—the bottom. Water poured into my wetsuit and stung my face as he picked up speed; meanwhile, I was struggling to hold on. The policeman slowed malaysia travel and tourism down and I decided to flip on my side. In doing so, however, I lost my grip on the handle, leaving malaysia travel and tourism only one hand clinging for dear life. Just as I was about to give up and let go, another swimmer malaysia travel and tourism grabbed my free hand and held on to me. All I could think about was how grateful I was for his hand, and for all of those arm-strengthe