Rudolph the Red Nosed RHIB

Vanta Claus at the tiller safely shepherding us across the Bay (Credit to Sarah for the creativity!)

It’s hard to imagine a Rigid Hull Inflatable Boat (RHIB) overcoming the perilous San Francisco Bay fog. Yet, it did.

Conditions, courage, and 1,000-foot freighters have often prevented the Alcatraz Swimming Society (ASS) pod from completing our weekly crossings as often as we’d like. In the six or seven years since my weekly Alcatraz addiction began, I can’t recall such a consistent challenge to completing the swim.

Due to our work schedules, we swim early in the morning, choosing routes based on the day’s currents. When the currents ebb, pulling water westward out of the Bay, we swim from Pier 31 (or 27, 33, or 35) to Alcatraz or from Alcatraz to somewhere along the western shore near Crissy Field. During a flood tide, when currents push water eastward into the Bay, we typically swim from Alcatraz to Pier 39, and occasionally from the western shore near Crissy Field to Alcatraz. Other times, we swim from the Bay Bridge to Alcatraz on an ebb or from the Golden Gate Bridge to Alcatraz on a flood.

Today, we planned to swim from Alcatraz to Fort Mason at the end of the flood tide, departing the dock at 6:15 a.m. However, dense early-morning fog limited visibility to just a couple hundred yards, forcing us to scrap the plan. Last week, similar conditions had led us to cancel the swim entirely. This week, however, we were determined not to be deterred. We decided to wait a bit longer, hoping the fog would lift and improve visibility enough to swim safely.

One of our key safety guidelines is to avoid crossing the channel unless we can clearly see the San Francisco shoreline from Alcatraz or Alcatraz from the San Francisco shoreline before jumping into the water.

After a 30-minute delay, we departed the dock, determined to complete our weekly swim.

Was it dark? Yes.
Was there thick fog? Yes.
Could we see the island through the fog and darkness? Yes.
Did our RHIB have a bright red light like Rudolph's nose to guide us safely? Yes.

Delaying our start meant rerouting our swim because the currents had shifted from flood to ebb. We would now swim what we affectionately call the “short course” — Pier 33 to Alcatraz. We call it short course because, on a good day, we can cross the channel in less than 25 minutes, riding the ebb from the shore to Alcatraz. For some of us, including me, the short course also mitigates the hypothermic risk during the winter months. However, truth be told, the “short course” has also been known to take longer than some of the “longer” routes. In reality, it’s one of the longer-distance crossings of the channel.

Seth shows no fear on the ride out to the jump.

As Van, today’s pilot, steered the RHIB to the jump site, the early morning twilight began to break. The water was textureless, save for a few swells. Winter conditions often lack the wind-driven chop we see during the summer months.

Don's expression shows the gravity of the task at hand

Upon arriving at Pier 33, we debated whether the ebb had started and where to sight. We also knew we had to swim closely together and maintain a tight pod so Van could safely avoid the risks of piloting an amorphous blob of swimmers spread out like a yard sale across the Bay. 

In addition to Bucko, Sarah, Don, and me, we had two other SERCers join us—Neila and Seth. Both of whom we knew would swim at a compatible pace, stay tightly podded with the group, and manage the swim without hypothermic risk.

We could see the lights on Alcatraz and decided to sight with the island at the 9 o’clock position. With Alcatraz at 90 degrees to our left, we planned to swim at a forty-five-degree angle into the current to ensure we wouldn’t miss the island. Swimming to and from Alcatraz is like crossing a river; if not careful, the currents can carry swimmers off course, causing them to miss the destination entirely. It’s like trying to hit a target while being swept sideways.

If there were drone footage of our swim, it might look scattered. While some of us swim in a straight line, others tend to veer to the right or left, using the adjacent swimmers as bumpers to stay on course. And, to stay as a tight pod, we stopped as needed to regroup. During the winter months, when water temperatures drop, some swim back to the last swimmer rather than tread in the cold water while waiting.

Mayhem while trying to coordinate the leg shot

For as long as we can remember, one of our key sighting landmarks on Alcatraz has been the big yellow sign—except for the past couple of months when it was blown down. The sign warns unauthorized persons approaching Alcatraz that they will be "shot and prosecuted" (or something along those lines). As swimmers, we use it as a navigation aid to ensure we don’t miss the island. When the sign lines up with the lighthouse, the currents push swimmers directly toward the island.

As we made our way toward the island, Sarah pointed out what she thought was the sign. Although it was too foggy and not yet bright enough in the emerging daylight to see its yellow color, it was in the right place. Our chances of hitting our mark had greatly improved. 

With the ebb’s northward push, we quickly made our way across the channel. Seth and Neila stayed close to Sarah, while the rest of us tried to keep pace and avoid straying too far off course. After a few regroups, I felt like I could finally keep up. In reality, the others had likely slowed just enough to make me think I was keeping up. The psychological mind games never cease.

As we closed in on Alcatraz, the sign lined up with the lighthouse. I may have neglected to share this important navigation guideline with Neila, but to her credit, she stayed with the rest of us, despite being pushed slightly more to the north. It was her first swim to Alcatraz.

The Yellow Sign still under construction, yet tremendously useful as a sighting aid

We regrouped just off the island, took a few photos, and climbed back into the boat—at least we tried. It’s a small boat, and bodies were everywhere. It was hard not to invade everyone’s personal space, but we did our best.

Self-extraction is never a pretty sight

Van made sure we were safe, then brought us back to Aquatic Park. Some of us tolerate the cold better than others. Some of us (me, and maybe a few others) tend to get really cold on the ride back. Snuggling up to other hypothermic swimmers doesn’t seem to help. We wore thick parkas but had no body heat to share. The water temperature was 51ºF. While I doubt my skin temperature was that cold, it certainly wasn’t anywhere near normal.

All in all, another stellar crossing with awesome swim buddies who make the adventure even more fun!

35 minutes, 51ºF

Hypothermic swimmers fail to appear warm

Non-hypothermic swimmers flashing the gangsta sign