NEM News Nov/Dec issue

Wow, I can now load NEM News directly into my blog thanks to Coach Nate's efforts getting the NEM News archive up and running- how cool is that? Here's the latest issue.

Neat video

So this neat video was posted to the English Channel chat group yesterday. It's some of the clearest footage I've seen of a channel swim, and I love the sense of humor they kept throughout the swim. Nice one!

Sylvain Estadieu's Channel Swim from Sylvain Estadieu on Vimeo.

The First Crossing

As many of you know, my husband Mark is currently working on finishing his Bachelor's degree in Elementary Education at Lesley University. He's taking a writing class this semester and his assignment for the first paper was to write a descriptive piece. He chose to write about our Catalina channel crossing, and was kind enough to let me share it with you all here. Enjoy!

The First Crossing
by Mark Howley

The scene was reminiscent of one from the many World War II films I had watched on rainy Sunday afternoons, when I was young. A powerful searchlight trained, just above the waterline, on a narrow strip of lonely pebble beach; illuminating not bunkers and machine gun nests, but washed-out glimpses of the bigger rocks, boulders and rough-hewn cliffs beyond. In this instance the task force of redoubtable commandos had been replaced by an intrepid lone swimmer, who would be facing the foe with a swimsuit and a pair of goggles, not body armor and hand grenades. Backed up by a small fishing boat’s worth of supplies and nervous anticipation. And this time the hostile territory, into which the daring raid would be launched, would be the sea and not the land. Of course, no one’s life was really in danger, (we hoped), but I was no less proud of her for that. Even though the future of world peace did not depend on the outcome, the months of personal sacrifice and preparation meant that the peace and harmony of our own little world did.

The engine quieted to a low, gurgling grumble. Like an old curmudgeon, it complained in muttered, submerged tones as it fought against the inexorable movement of the tide to hold position in the surfzone just out from the shoreline. The water frothed and churned, black like a rich Indian ink spilled over and staining the entire world, a shade-perfect match for the coal dark sky. The firmament lacked any discernable features. If any clouds or stars hung in the sky, they had disappeared, blotted out by a sharp, incandescent glare, surrounded by the halo of extra darkness created by the oversized spotlight.

This broad glow caught the thick threads of diesel smoke, its pervasive stink rising in a sluggish fog. But it never rose far or fast enough to save us from another lungful that inhabited the inside of the nose long after it had added its weight to the bucket of nausea sitting under the ribs. Just as if the same bucket were stood on the open deck, with each convulsive surge or swell, it threatens to spill or up-tip altogether.

Looking out into the enveloping murk, I spied shimmering metallic streaks dancing across the water’s surface. It took me a moment to distinguish these as distinct from the bright reflections in the ripples and see that they were flying fish that jumped and skipped like the fireflies would overland. Even though it was the first day of autumn this was Southern California, and it would be a few more weeks before the evening’s chill would help hurry people indoors.

It quickly became apparent why the fish were dancing, as a rubber-black blur cut through the foam, briefly breaking the surface and then arcing over and slipping away again just as swiftly. Imagine a big dog; a big dog in a wetsuit. A big, mean dog with no legs. There was little comical about the sea lion’s prodigious bulk, which belied its speed and graceful agility in the water as it chased down the hapless fish. As I witnessed this predator/prey interaction, I could not help but ask myself: “What chases sea lions?”

Our swimmer, the reason we were here at two minutes before midnight, was about to enter the very same water and swim throughout the night and into midmorning. She had seen the aquatic activity too, and was asking that very same question. In that crucial moment, the many months of disciplined, early morning training and building anticipation proved ironically inconsequential as the real challenge suddenly became: would she take that one decisive step off the boat and into the water, or wouldn’t she?

The only time that any of us doubted that she might not be able to do this was then. The fear of not starting crowded out the familiar and long-held fear of not finishing. Her long hesitation­­— standing on the swim step at the back of the boat, peering into the darkness, fear writ large across her features— clearly indicated that she shared our misgivings.

Her whoop, only half full of bravado, was swiftly muted by the splash, significant beyond its meager volume. The plunge into the cool water strewn with clinging seaweed immediately submerged any lingering uncertainty with the body’s reflexive need to surface, breath, and move. As our first marathon swim began properly, the boat would guide me, and from a kayak, I would guide the swimmer. Pushed and jostled by the waves and wake, steadily sweeping and scooping with the long paddle I moved near to keep her between the boat and me, nestled and corralled in equal measure.

After a few strokes, her fear gave way to preparation and awe at the immediacy of the enormous task ahead. That in turn was soon replaced by an athlete’s professionalism as she settled into the strong, steady, rhythmic stroke of a practiced swimmer. That beautiful, wonderful swimmer. When I had met her the summer before, she seemed so normal and well balanced and now here she was, having jumped off a perfectly good boat at midnight into the dark, chilly waters surrounding Santa Catalina Island with the aim of swimming more than twenty miles back to mainland USA! A distant smudge of warm, hazy orange marked our goal, and somewhere in that direction the sun would come up. But for now, it was still night; the night that my wife, Elaine, would swim across the Catalina Channel.

Another article

http://www1.whdh.com/news/articles/local/BO126491/

One more article/video form yesterday's swim.

Karen Gaffney's Boston Harbor Swim

I've been a bit lax the last couple weeks with posting here, but I've got lots to share today. Yesterday, I helped out as a pace swimmer for Karen Gaffney's 8-mile Boston Light Swim. The goal was to swim the Boston Light Course, but the wind had other ideas. Gusting up to 40 miles per hour, and sustained winds of about 20 miles per hour meant that we were getting tossed around in the waves like corks. We decided to give it a try anyway, since Karen and her family had come all the way from Oregon specifically for the swim.

Karen has Down's Syndrome, and she takes on these marathon swimming challenges to prove the point that she can do anything anyone else can do, regardless of her "disability." She stands a mere 4'9" inches tall and weighs less than 100 pounds, so she's a tiny thing, but man, was she determined.

Karen's parents are very supportive of her swimming and had arranged for three boats to accompany us during the swim. We left from the Boston Harbor Yacht Club and motored out to the Boston Lighthouse on Little Brewster Island. Conditions were rough the whole way out. Whitecaps, waves 3-4 feet tall breaking in open water-- it was downright ugly. But the sun was shining and we were all ready to go, so why not give it a shot?

Chris, the kayaker, got in the water first and was immediately pushed around by the wind. He struggled to keep position in the waves for most of the swim, but he's an experienced kayaker who handled the situation beautifully. Then Karen slipped into the water. She wore a full wetsuit, a neoprene cap, and goggles. The water was 55 degrees, and being so tiny and not acclimated to water quite that cold, it was a good thing that she had on the wetsuit. I hopped in afterwards, of course not in a wetsuit because I can't stand the things, and for a moment I wondered if leaving my wetsuit at home might not have been the dumbest thing I could have done. I was gasping, shouting, and being tossed around by the chop. It took me several minutes to calm my breathing and get past the gasp reflex. In the meanwhile, I was swimming head up freestyle and trying to catch up with Karen and the kayaker. I slowly relaxed and was finally able to put my face in. Instant brain freeze. That took a few minutes to absorb, and then finally I was settling into a pace where Karen wanted me, about 10-15 feet in front of her. I found that swimming backstroke made it easier to keep an eye on her, since she wanted to be chasing me. I did a fair bit of breaststroke, too, as I dodged the waves. Once I settled in and got used to the temperature, I felt really good and smooth out there despite all the chop.

We swam along until the first feed, and that's when the danger of the situation really started to sink in. It was going to be virtually impossible to feed from the main boat as we had planned, as the boat was being pushed all around in the wind and waves. We nearly got crunched at one point by the boat as it rolled in a wave. We finally managed to grab hold of a rope hanging off one of the smaller boats that was escorting us. To make matters more tricky, it took several minutes for us to get to the boat, and that period of not swimming as fast meant that our body temperatures had dropped a bit. The cold had started to seep in. The Coast Guard boat nearby was also watching closely, and I gather that they weren't too happy with the situation, either.

We decided that the best plan of action was to hop into the small boat and motor a little further into the course to where we might get a bit more protection from the lashing wind from some of the islands. As soon as we got out of the water, though, the exposure to the wind became an even greater danger. We eventually transferred over to the larger boat and got bundled up in sweats and towels. We were both shivering.

We motored in closer to the finish line, over near Castle Island, and about an hour later, Karen and I got back in the water and swam in to the finish line. Laura Collette, another pacer and open water pro, hopped in with us for the last mile or so, and we swam into the beach at the L-Street Bathhouse. All told, we estimate we covered about 5 miles in the harbor, and while we may have missed out a few miles from the middle of the course and had to think on our feet to adjust the course to best suit the conditions, it was still an incredible swim in atrocious conditions.

As we arrived on land, there was a crowd on the beach waiting to greet us that included several photographers and writers from the Boston Herald and the Boston Globe, as well as Fox News and Channel 7 news. It was really neat. I've posted links to all the media I know about below.

Once we go into the beach, getting warm and dry was the top priority, so we headed into the bathhouse and the showers. It took a while for my feet to completely thaw out, but all-in-all I was really pleased with how I tolerated the cold water and lousy conditions. Karen handled it all like a pro, and I know it wasn't easy out there, so my hat is off to her and I am in complete awe of her capabilities and her motivation. A lot of other "fully-abled" swimmers would have taken one look at the water and said, "No way!" But Karen wasn't going to back down! What an inspiring day and a neat event to be a part of.

http://wbztv.com/local/kathy.gaffney.boston.2.1237090.html


http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/articles/2009/10/09/woman_with_down_syndrome_gets_into_the_swim/


http://www.bostonherald.com/news/regional/view.bg?articleid=1203336&format=comments#CommentsArea


http://www.katu.com/news/local/63793457.html

http://www.myfoxboston.com/dpp/news/local/woman_with_down_syndrome_swims_boston_harbor_100809

Ray's 10K Race Results

This past Sunday, in the rainy wet weather, the first full weekend of fall, a hearty bunch of New Englanders took to the waters of Johnson's Pond (Flat River Reservoir) in Coventry, RI for one final open water race. And boy, were there some fast kids at this race. Two new records were set and I got left in the dust, bringing up the rear in 3 hours 20 minutes. But a good time was had by all. Below is Ray's synopsis of the race.Thanks for another great race, Ray! See you next September!

Johnson’s Pond in Coventry, RI was the site for the 3^rd annual Flat River Reservoir Champion’s Challenge. The event was held despite cool air temperatures, cold water (65 degrees), and an ongoing light rain. The weather didn’t dampen the competition as new records were set in both premier events. The smell of burgers and hot dogs, along with laughter and smiles were the staple for a fun and hearty event! Applause, yells and whistles could be heard down the lake as each contestant neared the finish buoys.

In the 10K event (6.2 miles), Seb Neumayer of MA defended the title the he won last year with a new course record of 2:31:25. Liz Mancuso, 2^nd overall bested the previous women’s record with a 2:33:36 finish. Ray Gandy of RI and Marcy MacDonald of CT came in the 3^rd and 4^th overall positions. Special recognition goes out to Becky Gagnon as she completed her longest swim to date and captured the hearts of the crowd with her determined efforts.

The 2 mile event was added this year by popular demand. Josh Sroka established the overall course record with a 50:51 time, while Lori Pugh set the women’s standard at 54:57. Al Hollenbeck came in 2^nd overall with John Dumas, Greg Hindle and Mary Phelan finishing behind Lori, to round out the top 6.

A 1 mile and 3 mile option was provided with Tom Craig and Lou Sardelli finishing 1^st in those swims.

The event raised close to $500 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society of RI.

A special thank you to Al Hollenbeck and Rene Gaudet for co-hosting the event. Thanks also for support from the Wood Estates Resident’s Association, the Johnson’s Pond Civic Association and the Coventry Fire Department. Also a big thanks to all the volunteers, kayakers, timers, etc. for making this year’s event truly special.

Final results for each event are posted below:

1 Seb Neumayer *2:31:25
2 Liz Mancuso *2:33:36
3 Ray Gandy 2:35:01
4 Marcy MacDonald 2:47:39
5 Tim Morse 2:49:10
6 Kate Radville 2:55:36
7 Greg O'Connor 2:59:37
8 Elaine Kornbau Howley 3:20:07
9 Becky Gagnon 4:15:05
10 Dane Kwiatkowski 5K (3.1 miles) 1:34:00

Ray's Radio Interview

Ray Gandy gets interviewed by Rhode Island's Radio Station of Record, 99.7 FM, 630 AM, interviewed by Dan Yorke. He's a superstar! http://630wpro.com/Article.asp?id=1496598&spid=18040