Meeting Martinique - St. Lucia Channel Swim Part V

Finally, we broke through the current. I could tell because the water became much calmer and Martinique looked much closer. I didn’t see the wide beach we were supposed to land on, but I didn’t care. I just needed to touch the cliff side. I could see the bottom below me, which was exciting, but I wasn't sure if I had 20 minutes or another hour or more to reach the island. To add a little drama, a soft rain began to fall and a lovely rainbow stretched over the sea as the sun was sliding down the horizon.

Nathaniel and one of the boat crew motored by in the dinghy. I thought we were too far away for them to be accompanying me. I still wasn’t 100% sure I’d make it. Turns out they were looking for a landing spot and Nathaniel found a small patch of sand at the base of the cliff face. The dinghy returned to where I was swimming and Nathaniel pointed me in the direction of where I needed to go.

The sun was setting, but I had enough light to see the sandy bottom rising up to meet me. I was so excited, but still cautious. It didn’t seem real that the end was within reach! Stroke after stroke, just like I’d done all day long, with the dinghy as my new support boat, I focused on getting to land. The catamaran had stopped aways back. I could see the small beach ahead of me and my heart was pounding in anticipation. I had to maneuver over some rocks to get to the tiny shore. I pulled myself over them and slid belly first onto the sand like a big seal. After some very ungraceful wallowing, I got my feet under me, stood up and backed away from the water so I was on dry sand, lifting my arm to let Martin know I had cleared the water. Upon hearing the horn, I sank to my knees, eyes filling up with gratitude, exhilaration and exhaustion. I was so in love with my crew at that moment – WE had done it. It was the hardest thing ever, but we did it. I was still a bit surprised to really be there on the sand. Somehow, we made it through those long hours without giving up - 14 hours and 56 minutes. The crew had supported me every stroke of the way and though there were many times I wasn’t sure I was going to make it, I kept swimming, just in case.

  

I looked around for some rocks or shells to bring back, but there wasn’t anything lying about on the sand. I pulled a small chunk of rock from the base of the cliff and waded over the rocks to the dinghy. Nathaniel pulled me in and the crew guy pulled the engine. And pulled. And pulled. And pulled. OMG, are you kidding me? Did anyone check to make sure there was gas in the motor? I dreaded the thought of having to swim back to the catamaran, but finally, the motor fired up and we buzzed back to the boat.

Paul grabbed my hand and pulled me on board, wrapping me in a big towel. We were all so happy, but I just wanted to sit. Since I wasn’t cold, getting changed wasn’t as urgent as it would be if I’d just come out of 60-degree water. I told Paul I was so glad I finished, because I never wanted to do that again. He laughed and said he’d write that down. A couple people took pictures and I enjoyed the moment together with the whole crew – including Sue, who hadn’t left with the marine police. She’d been stationed at the top of the boat the entire time with Martin to have a good view of me during the swim. Paul helped me get below deck so I could change. The boat had a shower. Can you believe that?! A shower! I made a mess of the bathroom, with bits of seaweed and sand everywhere, but it felt so good to get rinsed off and into dry clothes.

I came back upstairs and had a cup of tea and a cookie – which came up a few minutes later as the catamaran rocked over the waves on the return trip to St. Lucia, now in the dark. I can’t imagine anyone vomiting as much as I had done that day. I knew I had to be dehydrated, but I never felt disoriented or faint. Just sore and very tired. I took a nap in the boat on the way back, sleeping as best I could as items in the kitchen banged all over the place. 

When we returned to the marina, we packed up our gear, which was a pretty big job. I managed to carry a few of the tote bags to our rental car. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one ready for the adventure to be over! I thanked everyone for their support, giving each person a tired, but heartfelt hug. When we got back to the hotel at about 1:30 a.m., I took a long hot shower and scrubbed at the zinc oxide with Dawn dishwashing liquid. Good stuff. A couple of minor welts were the only evidence of jellyfish stings. Everything seemed intact. After cleaning up, Paul and I crashed for about 5 hours.

The next morning, I was sore, and my tongue was thick from the saltwater, but surprised at how good I felt. No shoulder impingement or any other injuries. And I didn’t feel nauseous! Woo hoo! We had a big breakfast of eggs and bacon at the Ginger Lily hotel and the staff celebrated with us. We went for a short – really short – swim off the beach and walked around Pigeon National Park while I drank coconut water all day long to rehydrate. It felt sort of surreal, like the people we walked by on the street should know I’d just swum 22 miles to Martinique. I went over details of the swim with Paul to get his perspective and confirm that yes, we really did just swim that channel!

Despite getting sick, it was a fantastic experience I will always cherish. Everything from the training and planning to meeting such wonderful people and enjoying the beauty of St. Lucia and swimming in the incredible blue sea was amazing. I told Paul that was my first and last channel. But, as we reflected on the swim and the things we could do differently – like taking motion sickness medication beforehand and making sure we have an extra-long feed rope – I think I’d like to try another one. But not today. This was enough for today.

*End of the swim narrative, but an "epiblog" coming about our last days in St. Lucia!

• Media coverage of swim (newspaper articles, TV segments, etc.).
• http://thevoiceslu.com/2018/05/saint-lucia-martinique-channel-swim-molly-nance-to-chance-the-course-next-week/
• https://stluciastar.com/swimmer-molly-nance-coming-channel-near/
• https://www.htsstlucia.org/molly-nance-makes-history-as-first-documented-woman-to-swim-the-st-lucia-martinique-channel-2/
• http://journalstar.com/news/local/article_b0c6e6e4-9944-52b8-b56e-dcf5c8d05f3f.html
• http://www.wowt.com/content/news/Lincoln-womans-Caribbean-trek-goes-just-swimmingly-483443701.html
• http://www.omaha.com/livewellnebraska/plus/lincoln-swimmer-is-first-woman-on-record-to-cross-/article_45bbf755-cd66-55ad-bf72-e587a2c2c0e0.html (subscription required. PDF in Box folder)
• The Bottom Line ESPN radio segment: http://owh.backbonebroadcast.com/owh_mp3/POD20180524161951.mp3
• KZUM Community Radio interview: https://kzum.org/lincolns-molly-nance-the-first-woman-to-swim-the-st-lucia-channel/
• 
  

Digging In - St. Lucia Channel Swim Part IV

Sometime around hour 5 or 6, all the recent feeds came up. I’d heard of swimmers throwing-up and continuing to swim, but I’d never actually experienced that. I puked what seemed like gallons, but felt so relieved to get all that out of my system. I didn’t want the crew freaking out over it, so quickly got back to swimming.

Nathaniel joined me for a support swim. He is so long and strong, I know it was difficult for him to swim slowly enough not to get ahead of me. It was nice to have the company, but also a little stressful as I tried to increase my pace to stay even with him. Plus, the waves were so crazy, it was hard to even see him most of the time. My view was either of the side of the boat or an oncoming wall of blue water.

It was more comfortable breathing to my right. I’m normally a bi-lateral breather but the wave pattern made that difficult. Every time I’d turn to the left to catch my breath, water would cover my face. I thought it might work better to swim on the other side of the boat, so as Nathanial returned to the boat after an hour, I swam over the other side. It didn’t take long for Paul to blow his whistle, which is how he caught my attention for feeds or other communication. He said the current was pushing me in the wrong direction on that side. Or he could have said he was eating a bacon burger with fries on the side. It was hard to tell. But, I got the drift that I needed to go back to my little corner of the Caribbean Sea.

I had the nausea station on shuffle play with auto repeat. I couldn’t stomach my regular feeds – the taste made me vomit, so I stuck to water or coconut water and sometimes that would stay down, sometimes it came back up. At one point, I asked for some Advil because my left shoulder was getting sore. I dropped one in the ocean – dammit! – and barfed up the one I managed to get down about 5 minutes later. I kept swimming. I found it kind of interesting that I COULD keep swimming. Nausea is a miserable feeling, but I felt a lot better after I vomited – of all the weird things, I was so happy that I could puke.

I hit the seaweed patches around 9 or 10 hours into the swim. They weren’t as bad as I was expecting – more like rosemary floating on top of the water. I thought it might be like thick beds of kelp. The stuff was full of sea lice and got into my suit, which was itchy, but I’d scoop out what I could and kept going.

People often ask what I think about on long swims. I tried to think of things that would take my mind off the misery of feeling so sick. I didn’t have a lot of songs memorized, but I ran through a jukebox in my head – parts of songs by The Cure, the Beatles, the Black Keys, some random techno beats and a few nursery rhymes. “This Old Man” was a horrible ear worm. I mostly thought “just keep swimming” and focused on my stroke, knowing that every time my hand dove into the water, I was a few feet closer to Martinique.

Finally, I could see Martinique, which was a huge motivator. I knew I must have more time behind me than ahead of me. But, like a lot of channel swimming stories I’d read about, the island didn’t seem to be getting any closer.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep going. I went through periods where I thought the swim was doomed and then, 10-15 minutes later, I’d feel a little more confident. Except for a coffee flavored Hammer gel, I hadn’t had a normal feed in hours, just water or coconut water. My body tapped into fat stores and seemed to be running OK, so I just kept going. I appreciated the diluted mouthwash at feeds to freshen up my salt-coated tongue.

At a couple of points, the support boat was behind me. I didn’t know why it wasn’t next to me all the time. So, I gently suggested that perhaps they could move next to or ahead of me so I could better follow their lead. Paul translated my instructions (taking out the cuss words) and off we continued. Paul later explained that Martin was conserving power by stopping the motor as I was taking a feed. Note to self: let the captain run the ship!

I’d been in the water at least 12 hours and that island STILL looked miles away. I figured I must be fighting the current, but I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t really tell any difference in the feel of the water, just by the lack of progress. Paul said I only had about a mile left. That looked like a long mile and Paul is always lying to keep me going, so I was skeptical. But, again, there wasn’t much else I could do except keep on swimming. I was feeling very nauseous and didn’t want to take any more feeds, not even water. I stuck with a mouthwash swish-n-spit. It was reassuring to see Paul and Thalia or Lily always at the side of the boat. I knew this was a long haul for them and I really appreciated their vigilance.

Into the Water - St. Lucia Channel Swim Part III

The team gathered at Rodney Bay Marina at 3 a.m. to get supplies loaded onto “All In,” a beautiful 40-foot catamaran with a full kitchen, 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. Wes and Nathaniel had loaded the kayak the evening before, along with some ice and water. I had captain Martin, 2 crew members, Sue, Nathaniel, Wes, Lily, Thalia, Paul and 2 guys from Flow, a cellular phone company that were there to test their equipment. I felt kind of embarrassed to have such an entourage. I'm usually the one providing support for others. But it takes a good team to have a "solo" swim!

We left the marina about an hour later, heading for the start at Body Holiday beach, the northernmost accessible beach on the island. As we pulled away from the marina, I noticed the pretty lights of Rodney Bay against the dark hills of the island - then a horrible CRUNCH! We obviously hit something like a rock or coral. It sounded horrible, but Martin checked below deck and everything looked OK. He quickly took over from the crewhand who had been steering and backed the catamaran out of whatever we had run into and maneuvered us back on course for the beach.

As we motored toward the beach, I started getting prepped for the swim. I had applied SeaSafe sunscreen the evening before and again after I woke up. I doubt if a product can prevent jellyfish stings, but hey, I figured I’d give it a shot. Paul added a thick layer of zinc oxide cream, then a layer of Bag Balm mixed with lanolin to help prevent chaffing. I looked like a mime. Thalia called it my white wetsuit. 

I put in my earplugs, slid my gold swimcap over my head and then pulled my goggles on. Paul affixed the button lights – one on my goggles strap and one attached to the back of my suit. Lastly, I slipped on a sexy nose clip. Don’t know how anyone could resist my hotness. At least I thought that’s what Paul said. Maybe it was hot mess.

The boat cruised into Body Holiday beach cove.  In the dark and quiet of the night, it almost felt like we were sneaking in. Wes and Nathaniel slid the kayak into the water and Wes got situated in the kayak hull. I gave Paul a zinc-oxide stamped kiss and stepped off the back of the catamaran, swimming about 100 yards or so to the beach. I cleared the water and walked until I hit dry sand. I adjusted my goggles and cap and made sure the button lights were still on. I raised my arm to indicate I was ready.

And... I'm still holding my arm up. Hey, guys, over here! I’m ready to swim now! Finally, Martin blew the horn and I walked into the water. I was a little nervous, but more excited and confident than I had felt when I started my English Channel attempt. I was going to give it my all and feel proud of what I accomplished, regardless of the outcome.

I noticed the water light up every time my hand dove into the water. Phosphorescence is so cool! Below me, a million baby jellyfish (or something) were glowing like little blue stars. It was absolutely magical. The water felt great – not warm, but not cold – and very mild in the cove. I took my time and enjoyed the swim, noticing the stars above when I took a breath and the stars below when my head turned back into the water.

The kayak looked like a riverboat casino with lots of lights and reflective tape, making it easy to follow Wes and the support boat. It seemed to take a long time to get out of the cove, foreshadowing the day ahead.

The sun rose behind us, its light illuminating the clouds in beautiful shades of pink, orange and yellow. At the hour feed, I told Wes the swim was already worth everything we’d put into it. I was having a fantastic time and felt so lucky to be swimming in the deep blue Caribbean Sea. The channel swim I'd planned for so long was really happening!

The next hour, we turned north into the channel and conditions changed. The choppy waves grew from small moguls to small mountains and it was hard to get into a rhythm. But, the sun was coming up and I could clearly see the support boat and Paul in his bright safety yellow shirt, watching from the bow. Martin had said it would get a lot choppier as we rounded the north point, so I expected it.

The next few half hour feeds went well, Wes maneuvering over waves to toss me the bottle of carb drink, although it seemed like it took longer than 30 minutes between feeds. In practice swims at the pool, I usually get into a zone and am surprised when it’s time to feed. But, I was so focused on every stroke and every minute, the time passed more slowly.

After a couple of hours, Wes let me know he needed a break. I told him that was fine. I wasn’t concerned about feeding from the support boat and Paul is used to the feeding routine, so it was all good.

I noticed a marine police boat come up to the support catamaran. Sue had mentioned that they would stop by, but I’d forgotten that and wondered what they were doing. I hadn’t seen Sue since I started swimming and I thought maybe she’d gotten seasick and was going back on the police boat. I hoped that wasn’t the case. I was worried about her, but figured she would be OK and someone else would pick up the observing tasks.

Wes came back for more paddling shortly before the police boat left. He stuck with me for about an hour, but the waves and my pokey pace made it difficult for him to stay aligned with me and handle feeds as well, so he returned to the support boat.

I was pleased when I made it to the 4 hour feed, now well into the channel. I was feeling queasy, but otherwise fine and was intent on passing the time I’d spent in the English Channel. My shoulders felt good and the choppy waves had morphed into big swells. It was easier to time them so I’d get a good breath in as I was sliding up and then put my head back in the water as I was sliding down. The feeds from the catamaran were a bit troublesome. The line wasn’t quite long enough, so I had to get close to the boat to get the bottle and then it would get yanked from my hands as the boat rocked in the waves. I may have expressed a little constructive criticism about that situation. But, Paul took it in stride and worked with Wes to knot another rope to the feed line to make it long enough.

  

Pack N Go - Saint Lucia Channel Swim Part II

Though I've swum several marathon distance events, swimming the St. Lucia Channel was new for all of us and we used the resources of the Marathon Swimming Federation website and advice from experienced marathon swimmer friends to prepare for the swim and ensure we complied with MSF rules. Both Sue and I watched the online videos from a swimmer observation workshop and we discussed plans – everything from starting points, to crew roles and responsibilities, to “what-if” scenarios and observer log notes.

We set our swimming window for the week of May 14, 2018 – most likely May 15, 16 or 17. Bruce said the trade winds normally died down a bit from March and April. Paul and I bought our plane tickets and made hotel reservations at a charming little hotel near the Rodney Bay Marina, where our support boat was docked.

During the early months of the year, I was extremely busy at work, planning a new international conference with partners at the World Bank in Washington DC in addition to the normal chaos of my communications role at the Daugherty Water for Food Global Institute. I was also worried about my brother, who has been fighting cancer with chemo treatments for the past year. Fortunately, he has been responding well to chemo and the cancer has shrunk, but it's still there. The swim training gave me an outlet for stress and the channel goal gave me something positive and exciting to focus on.

During the week, I'd swim 4500 to 5500 yards a day and put in longer hours on weekends, like 4 hours on Saturday and another 6 hours on Sunday. I gradually increased the yardage as I got closer to the channel swim date, but was careful not to overdue it so I wouldn't damage my shoulders. I did one weekend with back-to-back 6 hour swims and had a few other swims in the 6 to 7 hour range, but didn't log 10 and 12-hour swims like I did when training for the English Channel. I was consistent with swim practices and visited a chiropractor when my left shoulder was getting pinchy, which made a huge difference. I also ate well, avoiding sugar and sleazy cheap carbs. I finally dropped the 12 pounds of channel fat I'd been dragging around for the past four years!

In late April 2018, I wrote up a channel swimming plan with details on what needed to be done when and by whom and shared it with Paul, Sue and my friend and marathon swimming super star Suzie Dods to get their feedback. I also asked channel swimmer Ranie Pearce if I could borrow her Sharkbanz, a magnetized band you can wear on your wrists or ankles that is supposed to repel sharks. I love the support of the marathon swimming community!

Finally, the time arrived for our trip and we packed like maniacs the night before we left since we both had to work right up to our departure. I brought a pair of jeans, hiking pants, 2 pairs of long yoga pants and just one pair of shorts. WTH? At least I had all of my swimming gear.

We arrived in St. Lucia on Saturday, May 12, and Paul drove our rental jeep across the island to Rodney Bay. They drive on the left in St. Lucia and there are huge, deep gutters between the street and the curb or sidewalk. It’s more of a moat than a gutter. And traffic is crazy with drivers dashing between each other to avoid people, dogs, chickens, goats and whatnot. I was sure we were going to dive into one the gutters, breaking the axle of our rental car. I had a good old fashioned panic attack and Paul had to pull over so I could slow down my hyperventilating and wipe the tears off my face. Guess I was tired. Maybe a little anxious.

We made it to the Ginger Lily Hotel without hitting a gutter or anything – or anyone –and quickly unpacked our bags so we could relax. The hotel was even lovelier in person than in the TripAdvisor photos with a pretty pool surrounded by a lush garden. Reduit beach was a short walk across the street. We were too pooped to meet up with Sue, so we agreed to meet the next day.

On Sunday, Paul and I met Sue and Wes, my kayaker. Wes and I practiced swimming and feeding from the kayak. The water was perfect! The temperature was probably about 80 and the most beautiful blue I’d ever seen. Lots of colorful little fish darted around near the bottom and I enjoyed swimming for a little over an hour.

On Monday evening, we had our crew meeting. Bruce and his wife Kim and their kids joined us, along with a gentleman I assumed was a crew member. Bruce introduced Martin Thomas, explaining that Martin would serve as the captain of our support boat since he had more experience with “non-fishing” excursions. I trusted Bruce and figured if he felt Martin was better suited for the job, that was fine by me. I enjoyed talking with Martin after dinner and learning about his career path, from being the son of a poor farming couple, to learning the ropes of charter boat sailing to becoming one of the best fishing guides in St. Lucia.

Other support crew members included Nathaniel Waring, the co-director of the St. Lucia Channel swimming event in July, who would take photos and support swim, if needed; Wes Moses, kayaking; Thalia Bergasse, first aid; her mom Lily Bergasse, crew hand; and Sue Dyson, observer. And, of course, Paul, who knows me and my swimming style better than anyone.

Sue read the MSF rules aloud and I answered a few questions. Bruce said Wednesday looked to be the best day of the week for good weather. The winds had been higher than we expected, around 18-20 knots, and we were hoping they would die down by Wednesday.

Tuesday we prepared for the swim, gathering groceries for the crew and getting my feeds lined-up. Paul made a huge stack of PBJs. The hotel staff kindly boiled up some sweet potatoes for me so we could mash them up with coconut water for mushy feeds. I measured out the Carbo Pro with juice and tea for the liquid feeds. We were both tired from all the activity and actually slept pretty well from 7:30 p.m. to 2 a.m. when we woke up to get to the marina.

Sue had distributed a news story about my background before I arrived that appeared in a couple of news magazines: 

• http://thevoiceslu.com/2018/05/saint-lucia-martinique-channel-swim-molly-nance-to-chance-the-course-next-week/
• https://stluciastar.com/swimmer-molly-nance-coming-channel-near/

And she lined up an inteview with one of the St. Lucia TV stations:

• https://www.facebook.com/bernard.fanis/videos/10160287314675277/

Where in the World is St. Lucia? - St. Lucia Channel Swim Part I

Planning the Swim

The idea for swimming the St. Lucia Channel began in early 2017. Some friends of ours had vacationed in St. Lucia and shared stories and photos from their trip. I wasn’t exactly sure where St. Lucia was located in the Caribbean, so we literally looked at a globe to see that it was in the southern sweep of Caribbean islands. I noticed Martinique just above St. Lucia and wondered how far away it was … because swimmers ALWAYS wonder how far it might be to swim. I looked it up on Google maps and discovered it was 22 miles apart, about the same distance as the English Channel. And, Martinique is a French province, making it even more similar to the English Channel. The one difference was much warmer water. More Googling revealed that average temperatures in the St. Lucia Channel are around 80 to 82 degrees year-round.

I assumed there must have been several channel crossings that I just hadn’t heard about. More Googling. I found records of two male swimmers who had successfully completed the channel swim: Jacques Siqot https://www.stlucianewsonline.com/press-release-jacques-sicot-completes-swim-around-st-lucia/ and Yann Richard, https://www.allatsea.net/richard-the-lionheart-crosses-from-st-lucia-to-martinique-the-hard-way/.

I wondered why this channel hadn’t been swum by known marathon swimmers. Were there sharks? Box jellies? Government regulations preventing it? Pirates? More Googling. By now, I was getting hooked on the idea and started ramping up my training… just in case. The thought of being the first woman to swim the St. Lucia Channel was strangely intriguing – how funny if could be me, a 52-year old woman from Lincoln, Nebraska. Well, why not?!

By summer 2017, I’d found my boat pilot – Bruce Hackshaw with Captain Mike’s Charters. He is one of the best known and respected chartered boat captains in St. Lucia with several trophies for sport fishing contests. He also provides whale and dolphin cruises and has sailed all over the Caribbean. I talked to him on the phone and he was excited about my idea to swim the channel, offering to provide support services at cost.

The planning brought back my enthusiasm for open water swimming. I’d been disappointed in my English Channel DNF (did not finish) in 2014. I did the best I could that day, but I knew I had not come anywhere near my physical limit for swimming. Nausea got the best of me and combined with the cold water, it did me in. I thought even if I got sick swimming to Martinique, at least with warm water, I could probably continue swimming. Plus, St. Lucia would be a beautiful place to visit. Planning and training for the swim became a pleasant obsession, although I didn’t share my plans beyond my family for a long time. I wasn’t sure if I’d even be able to get the swim off the ground, much less completed.

In fall 2017, I sent an email to David Peterkin, one of the names that kept popping up in St. Lucia swimming articles. I didn’t hear anything for a few weeks, then got a reply email from Sue Dyson, one of the board members of the St. Lucia Amateur Swimming Association who had received the forwarded email. Sue and another swimmer, Nathaniel Waring, were planning a swimming event for the St. Lucia Channel in July 2018. Sue understood I wanted to do a solo crossing earlier in 2018 and was a wonderful support, helping me with the necessary approvals from the St. Lucia and Martinique authorities. She also found a great kayaker and other volunteer crew members. In a world where we are all so busy, it’s amazing that Sue took the time to say “yes” to helping me plan this swim. All great adventures begin with a YES in spite of the many obstacles and arguments that would prevent them from ever happening.

We were all new at this and used the resources of the Marathon Swimming Federation website and advice from experienced marathon swimmer friends to prepare for the swim and ensure we complied with MSF rules. Both Sue and I watched the online videos from a swimmer observation workshop and we discussed plans – everything from starting points, to crew roles and responsibilities, to “what-if” scenarios and observer log notes.

We set our swimming window for the week of May 14, 2018 – most likely May 15, 16 or 17. Bruce said the trade winds normally died down a bit from March and April. Paul and I bought our plane tickets and made hotel reservations at a charming little hotel near the Rodney Bay Marina, where our support boat was docked.