Man vs Ocean - One Man's Journey to Swim The World's Toughest Oceans

by Walker, Adam;

  It was the second time in my life that it felt like a light bulb had switched on in my head; I thought, ‘That’s what I need to do – swim the Ocean’s Seven!’ I knew it would be a push to do another five swims with my shoulder and the odds were stacked against me, but I thought if I could continue to improve my stroke, then, God willing, anything was possible.

  One of the swims on the list was called the Molokai Strait, which I had never heard of before. It is a 26-mile swim in Hawaii from Molokai island to Oahu island, also known as the Ka’iwi Channel swim, and it’s the longest of the Ocean’s Seven swims. I quickly made up my mind that this would be the next swim; Hawaiian waters were much warmer than what I was used to and, after all, it was Hawaii – what could go wrong there?

  16

  SWIM #3 MOLOKAI STRAIT – HAWAII! HOW HARD CAN IT BE?

  As I was researching my swim across the Molokai Strait, I found out there were two pilots who could take swimmers across. The one I chose was called Jim and his main job was fishing and running kayak trips. I called him and booked the swim for the following year, in August 2012.

  I did my winter pool training and worked on my technique further. The stroke was really starting to come together, taking pressure off my shoulder so it was less painful, and I was much more efficient. I was also as fast as I had ever been, maintaining times consistently over a longer distance.

  I had heard that only twenty people had ever crossed the Molokai Strait due to the big swells, strong currents and deadly marine life.

  My next challenge was to find the money to pay for the swim. On the last two I had managed to get the money together, but this one was much more expensive; I worked out that, with the swim cost, accommodation and flight, it was going to be in excess of £8,000. I had never seen money as a barrier and knew I would find it from somewhere – or just put it on the credit card and pay it later. I couldn’t allow money to get in the way of my dreams.

  I mentioned my challenge to the marketing brand manager at work, a girl called Libby, in the hope that the company would want to support me financially. She was amazing; she managed to get the company to agree to pay for two flights and the swim, which was fantastic. I agreed in return to give them as much exposure as possible. This was a real weight off my mind.

  I now had just the accommodation to sort out. I wrote to forty hotels to see if they would be prepared to offer me two rooms for two weeks. (I needed two rooms as I would require another crew member to feed me from the boat.) In return I would provide exposure for the hotel with all media I received over there. The only hotel that agreed to support me was the Equus in Honolulu, a family-owned boutique hotel owned by a man called Mike Dailey, who ran the Hawaiian polo team. They even agreed to support my crew, Chris and Angela, which I was extremely grateful for.

  I booked for two weeks in case the weather wasn’t kind and I had to wait a while to go. My plan was to have a few days’ rest while waiting for the weather conditions that would allow the swim attempt.

  My wife and I arrived in Honolulu after an eighteen-hour flight and two stops, meeting up with Chris and Angela, who had travelled the week before. It was late at night and, after a pub dinner at 1 a.m., we went to sleep at 2.30 a.m. At 8 a.m. I heard the hotel phone ringing. It was the boat pilot, Jim, saying that we were to meet him at Molokai island at 3.30 a.m. the following morning. I didn’t think the tide started that soon, but he said he was taking a group out kayaking in a couple of days and wouldn’t be available after that, plus the weather was looking bad anyway so the best bet was tomorrow. I responded with an excited yet slightly panicked voice, ‘OK, great.’

  The realisation of what this actually meant suddenly hit me. I had to book flights over to the island and a hotel. I suddenly felt really disorganised. I hadn’t even had a chance to get used to the time difference or have any rest at all. I rang Chris and told him the news. I then immediately went on the internet to find a flight and hotel. I managed to get the last four seats on the plane to fly out, but no one was picking up the phone at the hotel. It was the only hotel on Molokai so I hadn’t any other options. I also spoke to Linda Kaiser, a Hawaiian open-water swimming legend who had helped me set up booking the swim. She was concerned that the wind was supposed to be up to 25 knots per hour, and the swimming conditions were not going to be great. She said ‘Is Jim sure the conditions are going to be OK?’ I wasn’t sure what to do – I had little choice if the weather was going to get worse as I was there for two weeks and couldn’t afford not to swim. My company definitely wouldn’t pay for another flight over here. I had to go for it.

  We had also not been made aware by Jim that we had to arrange our own observer – this was news to me as every other pilot sorts this out – and in the end it was agreed Chris could be the observer. This whole conversation did nothing for my nerves.

  Before my trip out to Hawaii, I had been communicating with a resident ex-surfer called Wilson. He had invented a shark defence system that lets off an electrical pulse which the sharks don’t like – it is not dangerous to them, just a deterrent. I thought it would be good to have some extra protection as it was the Pacific Ocean, after all – and there are various breed of sharks out there and I didn’t want to be mistaken for a seal!

  I told Wilson I was going that evening so he came to the hotel with the units and a colleague of his, Glenn. He explained how they operated when they touched water. The one-kilo unit went around the ankle with a Velcro strap. I had seen similar, bulkier, units before, but this was really compact and I would hardly notice it. He also agreed to loan me another three units that had been designed specifically to hang over the side of the boat. They had long leashes that released the same electrical pulse as the one around my ankle. He explained that this would increase the size of the electrical field and give me extra protection.

  I continued to phone the hotel on Molokai over the next couple of hours, still with no reply, so eventually I emailed them. Finally, after a few hours, I received a reply: ‘Dear Mr Walker. Apologies for the late response. I have received your request for 2 rooms, however the hotel is on fire and we will get back to you.’ I started to think maybe this swim was jinxed – it took all my mental training to remain positive and stay calm.

  While waiting to see if we had a hotel, I was contacted by KITV, a Hawaiian TV station. A really nice reporter called Andrew Pereira came to the Equus to interview me. The Hawaiian people know how treacherous those waters can get so they were interested in finding out more about the swim.

  On the flight to Hawaii, I had watched a documentary about the canoe races that take place each year across the Molokai Strait. They interviewed one of the competitors, who said, ‘It’s one of the hardest kayak races in the world, due to the big swells and currents, it’s very dangerous.’ They used dramatic music and slow motion to emphasise how tough it was. As I was watching I kept thinking, ‘Kayaking? I have to swim this!’

  After the interview with Andrew, I received an email from the hotel on Molokai saying the fire had stopped and although there was damage to the hotel they had reserved me two rooms. What a huge relief – I could finally start focusing on the swim. I had now just an hour and a half to switch off and rest before going to the airport. I went back to my hotel room to try to sleep. I knew I needed all the rest I could get after the long flight and that I would be swimming only twenty-four hours after arriving. It was impossible to sleep, though – my mind was spinning. I just lay there thinking about the swim and praying for a successful crossing. The time flew by and soon we were making our way to the domestic airport in Oahu to fly to the island.

  As we were queuing to board the plane, the TV news broadcast my interview. It was all very real now, and I knew I had better be ready – I would need to be at my best. This would be my longest-ever unassisted swim. We flew over the body of water in the twenty-seater plane and I tried not to think about the fact that I was going to swim back!

  I tried to keep my mind clear and not overanalyse it. I
felt I was in a good place mentally; training had gone well and crossing three 20-mile swims had given me a lot of confidence. I thought about those successes and told myself I knew how to conquer this. I firmly believed that if I didn’t make the swims difficult in my mind, they wouldn’t become difficult in reality. We arrived at the tiny Molokai airport just after 8 p.m. and took a taxi to the hotel. Molokai is a very small place, with a population of just 7,000. It didn’t take long to get to the hotel and I went to bed around 9 p.m. It had all been a whirlwind since arriving in Hawaii and I needed to get my mind focused on the job in hand.

  Again, I couldn’t sleep. Clem had made me one of his hypnotherapy CDs to listen to. He created one specifically for every swim; they were fantastic, helping me relax and flooding my subconscious full of positive thoughts so that I could visualise my success. I also listened to inspirational music. I didn’t want silence to allow my mind to drift into any negative thoughts. Long-distance ocean-swimming is very unforgiving – if you have any self-doubt, your mind will try to find a way to make those negative thoughts multiply and potentially convince you to quit. On the flip side, positivity is also contagious and you can get into a good habit of alleviating any self-doubt.

  At 1.30 a.m., after very little sleep, I started to get myself ready for the swim. The taxi picked us up at 2.30 a.m. and we made the ten-minute drive to the harbour where we would meet the boat and crew. It was pitch-black and very quiet. As we boarded the boat and loaded our gear, I was trying hard not to let the nerves get to me and to stay calm.

  Heading out of the harbour, I thought it wouldn’t take a long time to get to the starting point. I began to get ready to swim: Vaseline under the arms and back of my neck for friction, and was ready to go. I asked Jim how long before I would be entering the water and he said we wouldn’t be getting in before it got light, due to the sharks. I was a little premature getting ready, it seemed.

  When I first made the decision to swim the Strait, my internet research had thrown up a page on shark attacks. One story in particular attracted my attention. Only a few years previously, an open-water swimmer had been bitten on his calf by a cookiecutter shark just two hours into the swim. The shark apparently came around again and attempted to bite his chest but missed. The calf bite resulted in him having to get out of the water while his crew held his leg together in an attempt to lessen the blood loss. After reading this article, I resolved to stop looking up details of my swims on the internet.

  We ended up being on the boat for two and a half hours, for much of which Jim regaled me with every story he could think of about shark attacks in the Molokai Strait. I decided the best option for me would be to put my headphones on and listen to Clem’s hypnotherapy CD, as Jim’s stories were not going to benefit me just before I jumped into the water.

  At 5.55 a.m., the sun began to make an appearance and we made our way to a small beach area called La’au Point, where I could clear the water and start. I pulled out my goggles and swim hat and attached the electric shark unit around my ankle, then slipped into the water. My first thoughts were how warm the water was – it must have been 23 degrees, around 7 degrees warmer than the English Channel, and I had been training in water around 15 degrees so it seemed particularly comfortable.

  As I began swimming to the beach for the start, I looked into the water and there was all sorts of tropical wildlife. In the English Channel I had seen four white jellyfish and that was about it. I swam around 100 metres to clear the water and a wave hit me, knocking me over before I had even started. I raised my hands up to show I had cleared the water and signalled that I was ready to begin.

  I was off on my third channel swim. It seemed to take an age to get back to the boat, and when I was around 15 metres from it, Jim started to lead the way. I wanted to get alongside the boat, but he seemed happy with me swimming behind. I wasn’t used to this and I found it a little annoying as I had to keep looking up to sight and check my direction. Before I entered the water Jim had told me it was a good idea to get a fast first hour before slowing down, as the currents would be taking us out into the middle of the channel. I was conscious of this and got into a good pace and rhythm quickly. After the first thirty minutes, the wave swells started to pick up and the wind was strong. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, though, and it didn’t affect my stroke too much.

  The sun was out and it felt like it was going to be a glorious day. Underwater I could see what could only be described as little bits of fluff. I remember thinking, ‘They look quite cute’, as they floated past me … and then stung me repeatedly in the face. They must have been jellyfish – immediately they weren’t cute any more. I stopped for a second after being stung and felt the need to shout at the boat, ‘I’ve just been stung!’ Not that they could do anything about it.

  I had my first feed on the hour and everything seemed fine. The waves were getting bigger now, although I still had a few seconds between each one, giving me time to predict when to breathe. I have always preferred rolling waves as you have a few seconds to react in comparison to constant choppy water, which is what I had in the English Channel. By the second feed I felt tired and flat, which really concerned me. ‘I can’t afford to be tired now,’ I told myself. ‘I’m barely into the swim!’ I started thinking what a mistake it had been not to give myself any time to get over the flight. I was now getting what I deserved – I mean, what did I expect?

  I told myself the feeling would pass, like when I felt sick in the English Channel. It was just one arm in front of the other – keep it simple, Adam. My crew gave me some flat Coke and the caffeine really picked me up. At four hours the tiredness had passed and I felt more comfortable. The waves were a few feet high, making it tough to get a rhythm, but I was now well into the middle of the channel.

  A few times, at the corner of my eye, I had seen the occasional dorsal fin appear up out of the water, not far away from me, and passed them off as dolphins. I worked really hard to focus on my arm strokes and staying relaxed. I was aware of the dangerous waters I was in and didn’t allow my mind to drift into thinking about sharks or other potentially deadly marine life, which were no doubt not too far away. The shark defence unit gave me some reassurance. I could feel on my ankle the electrical pulse and see a little green light flashing, which indicated it was on. There was of course no guarantee of whether it was actually working or not – I just hoped it would.

  At six hours, Chris decided to jump in and swim with me for support. He was allowed to swim alongside me under the same rules as the English Channel. I was glad he did, as it was good for my morale, although I wasn’t feeling too bad. Not long after Chris had entered, he began stopping periodically to look underwater. He was also wearing a shark deterrent device as a precaution. I thought, ‘What is he looking at?’ The first thing that came into my head was that he’d seen a shark. I didn’t communicate with him at the time, but he told me afterwards it was a shark around six feet in length.

  I continued to take a mixture of carb drink and flat Coke. The water was really salty and I had swallowed some a few times, which made me sick. I was a professional at vomiting on swims now so it didn’t faze me – I just carried on.

  After eight hours twenty minutes, I looked down at my shark unit and saw the green light had turned red, which meant it had run out of charge. The boat was 20 metres in front of me and I shouted for them to come back so I could swap it for another one. They struggled to hear me at first and I had to shout a few times before they realised what I was saying and stopped. I continued to be frustrated at looking up to locate the boat; it was hurting my neck and using up unnecessary energy. I kept quiet, though, and continued on; I wanted to stay as relaxed as possible and moaning wouldn’t serve any positive purpose.

  I caught up with the boat and threw the old unit to Chris. The new fully charged one was passed to me on a pole. I remember Wilson saying the unit activated when it hit water, so I held it at the sides to try to avoid the electrical field. I tried to put
it on out of the water by sticking my leg up as far as it would go while treading water in some kind of strange synchro manoeuvre. I must have looked very strange to those watching, especially as my flexibility wouldn’t allow it, and in the end I was forced to put it on in the water. In doing so, I touched it where the electrical pulse was coming out and electrocuted myself with up to 200 volts. My whole body was shaking and my crew started shouting, ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Aaah, aaah,’ I responded. ‘Giiive meee a minuuute …’

  There was no easy way of attaching it without being shocked. I had stuck it on loosely with the Velcro and it was sliding around my ankle, but I didn’t care – I couldn’t take any more shocks. On a positive note, they really woke me up and I was raring to go.

  When I came in for another drink at nine hours, I could hear the pilot say on his radio, ‘He’s going to break the world record!’ The record was just over twelve hours and I could clearly see land. I was thinking to myself, I’m going to finish the swim within eleven and a half hours. After hearing this, I was really excited and picked up my pace. I felt relaxed, like the pressure was off and I was going to finish the swim with no issues at all. I couldn’t believe how straightforward it had been and I started powering forward.

  After an hour, I lifted my head up expecting to be really close to the finish. This wasn’t the case. It looked like I hadn’t moved forward at all. The shore must have been further away than it appeared. I continued for another hour and looked up again – I now seemed further away than I had been a couple of hours ago, and the cliffs we had been aiming for were more to the east. I still didn’t say anything and kept swimming, but after the third hour I knew something wasn’t right. I was now twelve hours in and I should have finished.

  I shouted to the boat, ‘What’s happening?’ and Chris replied, ‘The tide has been pushing you back but don’t worry, it’s changing and is now with you.’