Swim from Greenwich, CT to Downtown Manhattan
September 9, 1998
Here starts the longest swim I have tried to accomplish. I feel good about the swim, I know the tides will be working for me when I get tired, I just have to get to the Throggs Neck Bridge by 2:00 PM Hell Gate by 4:00 PM and I’ll be fine. The weatherman has called for windy conditions a couple of days ago, but no mention of it recently.
I arrived first at the 101 Deli near next to the Rowayton dock. I slept fairly well. Trina’s clock confused even her as she thought it was later than it was. I got up at 3:15 AM, took our vitamins, shaved, and left for Norwalk by 3:50 AM. I had visions of getting caught going too fast on the way down, but the trip was uneventful. I took the I-84 to Route 7, to the Route 7 connector all the way to I-95. We went a slightly different way and arrived at the 101 Deli at about 4:35 AM.
Ian Devlin, a young man who was going to take me in a zodiac boat until Chris Walker and the Riverwind after school started, arrived at 4:45 and things appeared to be right on schedule. I had planned on being in the water at 5:00 AM, but really 5:30 AM would have been perfect. The photographer from the Danbury News-Times, Douglas Healy, arrived late. He mumbled something about the alarm not going off and apologized for the lateness. In fact, he didn’t get there until 5:10 AM and we didn’t get on board the little Zodiac until 5:30. I felt that the 30-minute delay was going to cost me. Before Douglas arrived, Ian and I got to watch the stars. It was a beautiful morning and I felt an auspicious start. Sirius, the Dog Star was faithfully following his master Orion. Aldebaran, the red star of Taurus the Bull was shining bright while the Pleiades, or seven sisters of Atlas and Pleione, were shining brightly in the shoulder of the Bull. Jupiter was descending in the west and the moon, while not quite full, was giving off a nice, though eerie, light. We also saw several satellites passing. Ian is an accomplished pilot and very nice guy.
We got into the Zodiac at almost 5:30 and set off for just off Calf Island at the far western edge of Greenwich. At least I’m starting in Greenwich. On the way down to the starting point we could see the Twin Towers lighted against the western sky. In front of them, and slightly south, we could see the pearl necklace of lights covering the spans of the Throggs and Whitestone Bridges. It was a glorious morning with a slight hue of pink creeping up the Eastern sky. What did Homer write? “As Dawn spread her fingertips of Rose,” or “Rosy Fingered Dawn.”.
I put on my goggles, Speedo upside down as usual, and a white Nike cap, I was ready to go. At 6:05, with Douglas ready to take a picture of me, I dove into the water. The water was cool, but I quickly became used to it. I started off on the Commuter Express towards New York City. Starting an hour late was worrisome, but I hoped to make up time if the tides were more helpful as I closed in on NYC. Before I started, and often each morning and night, I prayed to God for the strength. The Lord’s Prayer as well as a few of my own, including: “All Glory, Laud and Honor to You Oh God! Thank you for today, for this day and for every day. It is your will and not mine that will be done today.”
From Calf Island, the first landmark we had on our chart was Can #1. Before that I had to pass Rye Playland. For a while I felt worried that I wasn’t going anywhere. As I was swimming, my eye kept alighting back to where I was looking before, so it seemed as if it took forever to get by the Playland area. There are three landmarks at Rye Playland; the hardest to spot is the “Dragon” roller coaster while the other two are huge buildings with two spires on each. I focused in on a pink building just west of Playland and I could see that I was making progress.
I also realized that Ian was not going to be that close to me and that instead of using the boat as a guide for swimming straight, I had to pick cans or bells in front of me and swim towards them. From Can #1 we were heading towards “Hens and Chickens.” At least to my novice reading of the chart, Hens and Chickens looked like islands. After we passed them I asked Ian where they were and he said they were the rocks we had gone over a few minutes before. We made Hens and Chickens a little after 9:00 AM, which means I was still an hour off schedule. I wasn’t mad at Douglas at that point, but I was concerned.
Every time I looked at my watch I anticipated where Trina and the Girls were. For example, at 7:30 AM, they were getting in the car, at 8:30 AM; they were at the 101 Deli, etc. Their trip took forever as they were in the midst of rush hour for Up and Down County, but that is a story for another day. While they were to meet by 9:00 AM, I didn’t expect them to shove off until 9:15 at the earliest and meet us by 10:00 AM.
The next landmark was “Middle Ground.” This looked more like rocks on the chart, but was instead an island. We were making good time as I could plainly see Middle Ground whereas I never really saw Hens and Chickens. About half way to Middle Ground Trina, the Girls and Chris Walker arrived in his boat, the 38’ Riverwind. While Douglas was transferred to the bigger boat and a nice nap, as he was extremely cold, Ian went back with the Zodiac. I swam on and was soon caught.
Every hour for the first half of the trip I stopped to eat. The routine was the same: water to drink and clear the mouth of the salt water taste, Gatorade was next, followed by ½ to 1/3 of a bagel. I went through this process at 7:00, 8:00 and 9:00 AM with Ian. The 10:00 AM feeding was with the family and crew of the Riverwind. We were just outside of Middle Ground when I had my 10:00 AM break. The break was about 5 minutes in length. The good thing about Middle Ground was that when I passed it I was on a new chart.
There were times during the morning hours that the water was a bit rough, but it wasn’t too bad. Sometimes I had to breathe to my left, my weaker side, when I swam freestyle, but it wasn’t a big deal. From Middle Ground the plan was to swim between City and Hart Islands. We didn’t but instead took a more direct route. The tide was with us after 8:00 AM and we wanted to take as much advantage of it as possible. Also, the Riverwind would have an easier time being south of Hart Island rather than going between the two. Interestingly, there was an article in The Wall Street Journal a week or so before. Hart Island is a prison island and it is also NYC’s “pauper’s field” where those without the resources or were unclaimed, would be buried by inmates of Rikers Island. It looked like a nice island. It took a while to pass Hart Island and again I felt like I did last year in front Rye Playland earlier today: “Was I going anywhere?” By the way, Hart Island has a nice sign on it: “Prison - Keep Off;” we did.
I ate again, just north of Hart Island and again near Stepping-Stones. The breaks became a bit more frequent as I tired, but I expected this. It felt as if time dragged as the minute hand approached the bottom of the hour and went much faster as it approached the top of the hour.
Coming out of the lee of Hart Island we headed straight into 25-MPH winds and 3-foot waves and whitecaps. I was having trouble breathing while swimming freestyle whether breathing to the right or the left. Backstroke was impossible as well as the water kept coming over my head and cap. I was reduced to swimming breaststroke. I had not planned on this and I remembered how sore my legs were by doing so much breaststroke during last year’s swim down the Hudson River. I also really began worry about not making it past the “Gate.”
The next landmark, and not on our schedule, was Stepping-Stones Lighthouse. It was just a mile beyond Hart Island and 1 ¼ miles short of the Throggs Neck Bridge. It is a beautiful lighthouse, built around 1890. It is also closer to Nassau County on Long Island than Westchester County. I kept making progress, even though it was mostly breaststroke kick and stabilizing arms. I thought to myself, “My narrow kick is good, but can I do it for miles at a time?” I didn’t get to the outside the Throggs Neck bridge until just before 2:00 PM. That was a key time for me. The hour lost was crucial and I was concerned. I thought of the “Sayings” I have on my workout logs and want to add another. The two sayings that came to mind were from Shakespeare and Marcus Aurelius Antoninus:
Our doubts are traitors
And make us lose the good we oft might win
By fearing to attempt.
Measure for Measure
Act I, scene iv
William Shakespeare
Do not think that what is hard for you to master is humanly impossible; but if a thing is humanly possible, consider it to be within your reach.
Meditations VI, 19
Marcus Aurelius Antoninus
A new “saving” comes from a movie I like, called “A League of Their Own” concerning the All-American Girls Professional
Duggan: You quitting, just running out?
Hinson: It just got too hard.
Duggan: It is supposed to be hard, if it weren’t everyone would do it. It’s the hard that makes it great.
We hoped that once we got under the Throggs Neck Bridge, that portion of the East River would calm down. Unfortunately, all the way to past the Whitestone Bridge LaGuardia air port and up to Rikers Island the wind continued to be in my face. I couldn’t swim freestyle and continued to resort to breaststroke or flutter kick with breaststroke arms; this way I could anticipate the waves and plan my next breath.
Once past the Throggs Neck, we tried to head towards the lee of the shore, but I couldn’t get there. Next we tried to aim for the northern, or The Bronx side tower of the Whitestone Bridge, but couldn’t do it either. Try as I might, while aiming at the tower, I was still heading towards the middle of the Whitestone Bridge. I made it under the bridge at 3:00 PM. About a mile beyond the Whitestone is LaGuardia Airport and as I past LaGuardia, the river calmed down. Now it was a race for Hell Gate at the tip of Hunter’s Point in Astoria, Queens and Wards / Randalls Island. Unfortunately, my shoulders were so tired; it was now hard to swim freestyle.
To get there, I headed towards the other prison island: Rikers. Tied to the island are two former Staten Island ferries that have been converted into prison barges. On The Bronx side of the river is a blue barge for prisoners. Just beyond Rikers Island are two smaller islands called North Brother and South Brother. North Brother Island is infamous for it was the quarantine home of “Typhoid Mary,” the person who gave the disease to others but didn’t contract it herself. The goal was to go between “the Brothers.” and keep out of the shipping channel. However, the tide controlled everything. As I rounded the corner of Rikers, I tried to head between the two Brothers. However, the closer I got, the harder it was to go between. I managed to land near the South Brother and swim my way across the northern tip of the island by pulling myself through the seaweed-covered rocks. As I pulled myself along I was a bit worried about cutting myself. However, I had just received a tetanus shot, and the rocks were rounded by the action of the River and covered with seaweed and other vegetation.
After getting by the Brother Islands I could see both the Hell Gate Rail Road Bridge and part of the Tri-Boro Bridge. I felt that once I was under these two bridges I was home free. The Hell Gate Bridge is a good-looking rail road bridge. As I did with all of “my” bridges, I swam backstroke underneath them to see what they looked like from a fish-eye’s view. While no trains went over the bridge, it was quite spectacular. The Tri-Boro was not as pretty. However, I didn’t know it was a suspension bridge. It was always nice to see the other side of the suspension come into view as I went under it.
By the time I was under the bridge I felt secure that I was going to make it. There were times when I felt that I was too late, but the Gate appeared open as the tide was running nicely. After I was in the East River proper, the goal was to go down the Eastern side of the river next to Queens and Brooklyn. As I neared Astoria Park at Hallet’s Point, some kids playing baseball came over to look. We had already had a police boat come by to ask if we needed help as they had heard there was a person in the river. I waved to the boys and asked them if they wanted to join me in the water? I then was sucked backward 10 yards due to the infamous Hell Gate tides. From here on out I was worried that Hell Gate was indeed closing.
A word about the tides in the East River and Long Island Sound is necessary. The tide moves around Long Island Sound from East to West and up the East River. At what is an imaginary line between Wards / Randalls Island and Hallet’s Point, the tide East River and Long Island Sound tides meet and separates there. In the direction that I was swimming, the tide was pulling down towards the Battery in the East River and back east toward Long Island Sound. This was explained to me by my former masters swim coach and Long Island Sound sport fisherman’s captain, Rich Ludemann.
The pulling back towards Rikers Island and Long Island Sound was the closing of the gate. I yelled over to the Riverwind: “where’s the tide?” It was always north and west of where I was. As I was swimming next to the park at Hallet’s Point, the Gate started to close. I kept swimming breaststroke with my head up north and west of where I was so I could find the East River tide. The water kept swirling around me. The appearance of the eddies or whirlpools showed that The Gate was closing. I made it through, but barely. I never felt any danger as the swirls of water never seemed to pull me down, although everyone on the boat felt otherwise. I guess I was so tired that I was beyond being afraid of the notorious Hell Gate waters. While I was swimming, a helicopter chartered by the local Fairfield county cable channel took pictures of me attempting to swim through Hell Gate.
Because of the eddies of The Gate, I had moved so far north and west that I had no choice but to swim down the west or Manhattan side of the East River. I took my last food break at about 4:40 and I still had over 4 miles to go. While I was confident that I would make it, we still had to worry about whether there was still enough pull of the tide left as to when I would make it to Pier 11. When we first got near Manhattan in the East River, the tide was moving swiftly, but, mercifully, the river was placid. In fact, I was near enough to the FDR Drive to touch it, and we were moving faster than the traffic heading downtown.
Another police boat came by to make sure we saw the commercial traffic in the East River and that we were okay. The closer we got to the East Village, the slower the tide went. I was now afraid that the tide would turn before I made it all the way down. We past under the Queensboro Bridge, again on my back, Hospital for Special Surgery, the UN Building, NYU Medical Center, and, finally, the Water Club Restaurant. At one point, I swam past a person looking at the river from a walkway next to the FDR. I invited him in for a swim, but he declined, he said I was crazy. We still had to dodge ferries, barge and oil tanker traffic, but I felt safe. The tide continued to die on us. Also a “black and white” police cruiser stopped and yelled to the Riverwind to see if we didn’t know that the river was dirty. In fact it was very clean. In my entire trip I ran into one glove, two paper wrappers and a plastic bag, and that was in the Sound.
Being in the East River and knowing that only the tides would stop us gave me a lift. In fact, the shoulders were feeling better and there was some strength left in them. Finally, we rounded the point in the East Village and we were swimming past the park between the Williamsburg Bridge and Con Ed plant at the East 14th. Going under the Williamsburg Bridge was interesting because the roadway was a grate and not an asphalt-covered. I could see the shadow of the cars as well as well as the wheels. In a few more minutes we were past the Williamsburg and “Corlears Hook” and heading towards the finish line.
The most beautiful sight of the trip, and there had been many, was the view beyond “Corlears Hook”: I could see the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges, Pier 17 framed below them, the skyline of Downtown Manhattan backlit by the setting sun, my long time place of work and the goal of this journey, Chase Plaza, and on the horizon, sparkling emerald-green in the sunlight, the Statue of Liberty.
The shoulders continued to recover and I could swim freestyle upwards of 100 meters before I tired and switched to backstroke and breaststroke. I now had less than a mile, and it appeared that tide had picked up a bit. We passed the Sanitation Pier between the two bridges and bagpipers were practicing; they struck up a tune as we past. The distance between the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges is not much on the map, but about 3 furlongs. It was both short and long.
After my backstroke under the Brooklyn Bridge, the adrenaline really kicked in and I was able to swim freestyle the rest of the way. Apparently, I was swimming faster than some friends from work who were waiting for me to come down the river. After yelling at me from Pier 17, they had to sprint down to Pier 11 to meet me.
I made it beyond Pier 17 and went into the space between Pier 13, where the New York Health and Racquet Club keeps their boats and temporary Pier 11, where ferries leave and we were to complete this 30 mile trek. It was quite a journey, more than I had anticipated, but I felt great to make it. Friends and colleagues from work and the real estate industry were there to meet me. My family was on the boat to greet me when I finally pulled myself out of the water 12 hours after had had dove in to the dark Long Island Sound waters 12 hours before.
After taking a lot of pictures, complaining that I had forgotten my briefcase and realizing that I missed work, I mused that I had to go home so I could return again. I showered on the deck of the boat, and went inside the cabin of Riverwind to change into something more appropriate. I wanted to go to the party, but Ed McDermott practically shoved me back onto the boat because I was too exhausted. If I had stayed and then tried to drive home from Rowayton, I probably would have died at the wheel in a car accident.
This swim was the hardest thing I have ever done. If the day had been calmer, the trip would have been far easier. However, I don’t have to repeat the trip, except by rail road and subway, or by boat, as I’ve swum from Connecticut to Downtown Manhattan once, and once is quite enough.
Getting from here to there is never done alone and is always best accomplished through teamwork. My team consists of many people, both living and dead, who have help and inspired me to reach for goals that are not always, on the surface, attainable:
- My parents who gave me health and drove me everywhere so I could pursue the sport I love.
- My brother David, who taught me under extreme pressure and grace, to continue to strive towards your goals no matter what the odds.
- My swimming coaches: especially Mrs. Close, my first AAU coach and my coach at Dartmouth, Walter Lutkus, who took me as far as I could go at the national level.
- My family, who without their support and understanding, especially when I have to prepare myself for these long swims by swimming 3 - 4 hours a day.
- My colleagues, who put up with my incessant talking about swimming.
- My friends in swimming, especially David Kirby, with whom I have swum these past 12 years as the New Canaan YMCA Aquatic Club - Auxiliary.
- And finally, JDF, for whom the goal of swimming to help find a cure for my father’s disease is a necessity, including Chris Walker, who constantly pushes me to find new and interesting venues.