Friday, June 22, 2018

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!
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