open water | Open Water Aerin

Are you going through something?

I originally wrote this post on World Mental Health Day in October. I chickened out of posting it, but I think it’s ok now. So let’s talk about mine, and yours, and ours.

I’ve stewed over whether my website is the appropriate place to discuss personal things. My original purpose in starting this blog was to journal my swimming journey while going through a challenging period in my life – the divorce from my partner of 17 years in 2017. It was a difficult time for me, and swimming was absolutely the best tool I had to move past the pain, develop a new focus, and commit to working on myself. I wrote about my struggles and how the water was helping me work things out. This combination of writing and swimming has worked for me in several other difficult circumstances, including the death of my father in 2019 and my English Channel DNS in 2024. It’s a proven method.

Since then, this site has become so much more. It’s a timeline of the events I’ve participated in. A journal about training. A travelogue, of sorts. It’s also a record of the accomplishments that I’m very proud of. And it’s very much a community (based on what readers share with me) rather than just a place to jot down my musings. I like to keep it fluid (hence “Open Water Aerin”) and part of what makes it valuable for me, and hopefully others, is that physical health and mental health – and the way that these two things are just LIFE – relate to swimming. I swim for my physical health. I swim for my mental health. Without swimming, my physical and mental health would suffer. But like any valid attempt at balance, it is an ongoing project and a work in progress. The feeling of flow I have when I’m swimming isn’t necessarily how I’m feeling about my mental or emotional state in general. Swimming is how I try to get there. Sometimes it works and sometimes it’s harder and takes longer. Right now is one of those times, dear friends.

“Under the pillow a little room to breathe
The early morning light’s a pale cranberry
I hear the Aaa-aah-aah not now-wow-wow
Of a siren faraway and closing steadily

Saying Are you going through something?
Are you going through something?
Cuz I – I – I – I I am too.“

Gord Downie, The Depression Suite

So yes, I am going through another very personal challenge. If this gives you the heeby-jeebies, then I’d suggest that you stop reading here and maybe visit some of my other posts. Consider this a trigger warning if you have experienced infidelity or emotional trauma, and give yourself the space you need.

If you’re still here with me, I’d like to tell you what really happened with my English Channel swim.

My partner and I started our relationship in late 2018. As with all relationships when you’re over 40, we came to it with some baggage and battle scars. Despite all this, we built a partnership focused on our compatibility: mutual attraction combined with a passion for adventure. As skiers and cyclists, we enjoyed holidays near and far. He introduced me to bike touring, and we cycled in beautiful places in Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and Italy, as well as nearer to home in BC. We found connection in our shared love of literature, philosophy, and cinema, admired each other’s ambition and commitment to our careers, and shared places, like my home in Rossland. We planned to spend our lives together.

In many ways, our relationship was a perfect partnership based on pure and undeniable common values.

Or it seemed to be.

(this is the gross part, so there’s still time for you to go and do the Wordle or whatever)

Four days after my English Channel swim and 8 hours after saying yes to his romantic marriage proposal on the white cliffs of Dover, as we were about to leave Deal for our London trains to Germany (for him) and Edinburgh (for me), I learned that he was having an affair with his ex-wife. The affair had started a few weeks before the swim. I’m not going to comment here about the timing of all this, because I think it’s pretty obvious that their timing was less than ideal. I now understand the timing to have been intentional, which adds another layer of steaming hot rat shit garbage to the story. He was on the boat, cheering me on, saying “I love you, Aerin!” during my feeds. So yeah – four days of post-swim celebration with my whole support team came crashing down in a shitpile of shock, anger, and disbelief.

My salt tongue had barely disappeared. My fingers were still post-swim wrinkly. I had a lot of media interviews to do. Most of these next few weeks were a blur, much the same way that the middle chunk of my 16.5 hour swim was a blur. I know I was there….but was I really there? I came back to Canada on July 14 and knew I had to deal with it. All of it.

At first, I fought back. I hear the terms grit and resilience tossed around a lot, and I do believe in my heart that I am a resilient person who embodies a fair bit of grit. But I fought back, since that is what I thought a gritty and resilient person should do. I would not let this awfulness shatter the experience of the swim. I’m not proud of all of the things I did and said, although some of these things were certainly deserved. I am particularly frustrated that I lowered myself in an attempt to save the relationship, because in the months of cruel limbo, the affair continued, my mental health suffered, and my swimming stopped.

Getting in the water made me feel sick. I cancelled all of my planned events. I avoided the beautiful lake at the end of my street. I went to the YMCA/H2O Centre where I love to train, and sat on an exercise bike in the gym overlooking the pool, watching people swim laps, glorious laps. But I didn’t get in. I stayed up late. I drank a lot of wine. I smoked a lot of cigarettes. My brain played endless loops of the disgusting scenarios I knew about when I tried to sleep. I didn’t sleep. I mostly ate cereal and nectarines. When I met with friends, I wasn’t there. It wasn’t me. The endless loops consumed me.

At the same time, I was in the middle of processing my English Channel swim. I was aware of the well-known “Channel Blues” that swimmers experience when processing such a big event. In fact, most athletes experience a cycle of lows after accomplishing a major goal, whether that’s a marathon, a summit, an Ironman….you name it. It’s not new, and it’s not unique to me. The hours and hours of training and preparation and anticipation and focus all suddenly come to an end, and then what is there? There’s a void. A void in my schedule. The critical pressure that, for me, pushed me to swim and train and stick to my plan was over.

I expected that I’d have to deal with the Channel Blues. My intention was to keep swimming all summer to ward it off – maybe even do another big one – but definitely to keep connecting with my lovely local swimming community at our summer events. I was looking forward to writing about it, too. Reading back, I can feel the tension in my writing voice.

But I wasn’t even able to talk about my swim without crying. Writing that I had a lump in my throat feels like a cliche, but that’s exactly what I had. I had a giant lump in my throat and a gaping, bleeding gash in my heart. I forgot things. I forgot how to talk, sometimes, which is difficult for someone whose ability to make a living depends on talking and communicating effectively. I declined opportunities to speak about my swim. I couldn’t concentrate. My head hurt. I was nauseous all the time. I was mean and impatient with cashiers and at the person driving slowly in front of me. I was always tired. I created a script that I could use, and when asked, I gave scant details about the swim, except to say that I couldn’t remember much about the middle. A few anecdotes about jellyfish, barfing, and the beach in France seemed to tide people over. If you were someone to whom I gave this truncated and bland account, I’m sorry. Now you know.

I had to do something about it, because I wanted to swim and I wanted to move on. But mostly, I wanted to stop feeling the way I was feeling. I sought out the best counselling I could find immediately in the aftermath of the grisly discovery, and continued this work through the summer and fall as I flailed and ruminated and gasped for air, like a fish out of water. My doctor prescribed anti-anxiety medication to help me get some rest. I walked, and the dog probably lost 10 pounds. I started using different thought models and tried to make a practice of journaling and applying therapeutic cognitive behavioural techniques. I tried really hard, because I’m a hard worker. I wish I’d told more people about what I was going through, but it felt somehow weak or ungrateful or fragile or embarrassing to admit the mental mess I was in.

It took me 16.5 hours to swim from England to France, but it’s taken me almost 20 weeks to be able to write this post – to tell you that our common mental health struggles are that – they are COMMON. When I told people how I felt, the response was often “me too.” My relationship situation is not unique. My partner is not the first person to have an affair, as he so kindly informed me. My post-swim depression is not unique. Even the combination of the two hard things has probably happened to someone, somewhere. If it’s you, let’s please find each other and go and find some water. Or throw axes.

I should have spent the summer in celebration mode, and some selfish assholes stole that from me. But now I’m doing ok, or at least giving it my best go.

I’ve been swimming, outside and inside. I’ve been walking a lot. I’ve been spending as much time with friends as possible. I’m trying to continue to do the work I need to do. I’ve come to some understandings that weren’t transparent to me in July and August and September and October. I’ve done some forgiving (mostly of myself), and I’ve shifted back into focusing on my physical and mental health, my productivity, and the things I want to achieve in swimming. There are many things. So many things. I am starting to talk about my swim with pride and joy. I can say how happy I am that I raised over $10,000 for charity. I’m looking forward to sharing the story of my swim with young’uns and old’uns and everyone in between. If you’d like me to speak to your class or organization, just send me a little note here. (I’ll keep it clean ;))

If you’re going through something, please understand that you are not alone. It sounds like another cliche, but I’m not sure how I would have pulled through without the support of my PEOPLE. You know who you are, PEOPLE. I LOVE YOU. I think we should talk about mental health more often than just on the “designated” day. I’m happy to talk with anyone who’s struggling, any time. I always have time for you.

I am your people. Now go listen to that Hip song (here’s the link again) and have a lovely day.

September is the New Year

Posted on September 7 by Aerin Bowers

I’m calling it: September is the New Year. January may have worn that sash in the past, but she’s never felt like a chance for a reset the way that September does. She’s cold, and the ski season is already in swing. She’s bloated and guilty and a bit hungover from the holidays. She’s confined to the pool, save for perhaps a cursory polar bear dip. She starts and ends in the dark.

September is where the fresh starts happen. A new school year, for awesome people like my kid who kicked off their freaking Master’s degree this month. Q4, for most of us that sell stuff, and Q1 (REALLY) for those in my industry. It’s the time for the closet switcheroo, and the waning days of air conditioning. It’s a swim in the lake on Monday, and then a crushing pool set on Wednesday, still rocking a tan.

September is my birth month, so I get to start a whole new year being a whole new age. This year the idea of a fresh start resonates for a million reasons, whether that’s in redefining relationships, embarking on a new chapter in my training, or putting some things firmly in the past and others squarely in the future.

I haven’t been in the water much since my English Channel swim. I experienced the expected Channel Blues compounded by a personal situation that both drained my energy and charged me with anxiety. The gym helped, the pool didn’t. I could float in the lake, but I didn’t want to put my face in. Walks and podcasts and friends and work powered my days, and I escaped to the Island to hang out beside the ocean and started to get some clarity. Campground conversations started to pull me out of the mire and suddenly, it was the last day of August. Thank fucking god.

September starts with my renewed training goals in mind. Getting stronger and faster in the off-season made all the difference in my successful Channel crossing, so now is the time when I recalibrate the plan, both for swimming and for the other shit that sometimes slithers into my periphery. Stronger, faster, and with joy. September is when the real work begins.

It’s time to plan applications for exciting 2026 events, and to line up the timelines and support I’m going to need for the swims I’ve already committed to. It really does feel like a new year, especially this year. There will be cake, chilly night swims, orange moons, long drives, and a whole new cycle of living and learning.

“September’s coming soon, pining for the moon / But what if there were two, side by side in orbit, around the fairest sun.”

R.E.M., Nightswimming

Happy New Year! 🥳

What’s Next?

Posted on August 2 by Aerin Bowers

I celebrated my one month Channel-iversary this week. It might have been with a few margaritas, since something happened to my tastebuds during my sixteen hour salt bath. Coffee tastes gross, beer tastes funny, dairy products taste like chalk, but the swim still tastes like a success.

That being said, I have not been swimming very much. I feel like I’m still processing the swim, and getting little bits of my brain back. I can accurately describe hours one through four and twelve through sixteen, but there’s a big murky middle where sensory deprivation and focus took over and I couldn’t tell you whether I was happy, tired, scared, or hungry. Beginnings and endings are much more interesting to me anyhow.

I’ve had ample opportunity to talk with both media and friends about my English Channel swim and was frankly surprised by the level of interest. People seem to be very curious about so many aspects of the swim, giving me a steady supply of topics to write about in the future. That one constant question though: what’s next?

What is next? I made the mistake of committing myself to several summer swims that should have seen me back in the lake racing almost every weekend. I’ve pushed back against the inevitable pressure these events would put on me – self-imposed, but still pressure – and cancelled! As someone who hardly ever cancels anything, I struggled with it and still wonder if I should just pull up my pantaloons and get back out there. To be honest, I have enjoyed not “training” over the last month, and have relished the long dog walks, Rossland hikes, bike rides, hangs with friends, and gym sessions. I haven’t dragged my bum out of bed any earlier than 7:30 am, and I haven’t consumed a single ounce of UCAN.

This month, what’s next has meant my next meal or next episode of The Bear (for the second time through).

I do have a lake swim in mind for later in the season, but that’s a big maybe right now. I don’t know if the logistics can work for both boats and crew, and it’s one I’d definitely want to do right, or not at all. So maybe that’s next, but maybe not. Upcoming holidays will certainly involve swims in Zurich and Thun, but it’s all for the pleasure of leisure at the moment.

One of the best things about swimming is that there is an almost endless list of potential “nexts”. I’m waiting for the lightning bolt of inspiration to strike. There are local lakes to bag. Big ocean swims that I never considered have now become possibilities. My English Channel swim has opened a lot of doors, especially in my own head, but rushing instead of processing and savouring feels wrong. These first short swims from Sarsons Beach are my way of easing back into the structure that I love and need, but it’s really all about the ease, which I haven’t enjoyed in a few years. So go easy on me, and what’s next will reveal itself soon. Or maybe in a few months. ♥️

You’ve Gotta Be Tough: An English Channel Swim

Posted on July 10 by Aerin Bowers

We did it!

With the expert navigation of the pilots of Optimist, unrivalled coaching and encouragement from Brent Hobbs, and Debbie Collingwood’s superb attention to all of my nutritional needs, I swam from England to France in 16 hours and 33 minutes on a spring tide.

I started at 2:30 am GMT from Samphire Hoe near Dover and walked on to the beach at Wissant, France at around 7 pm CEST. I spent ten minutes celebrating with Brent (who followed me in from the boat as Official Safety Swimmer) and a group of lovely French people who were enjoying the beautiful evening sunlight. Then, as the French Coast Guard dictates, I walked back into the water, swam about 200 metres out to the boat, climbed a ladder, hugged and cried and hugged and cried, and then promptly fell asleep for the three hour journey back to Dover.

To be honest, my brain hasn’t seemed to “upload” the swim quite yet, potentially due to some unexpected post-swim information that demanded some extra processing. I can remember sections, like standing on the pebble beach in the dark at the start, thinking “Holy shit, I guess I’m going to do this!?!” when the boat sounded the horn and I went for it. I remember finding it difficult to confirm where my position should be relative to the boat, especially in the dark, as I was told to swim on the starboard side. I do always breathe bilaterally, but my right side is dominant and much more comfortable.

I received my first jellyfish love bites on my face and my forearms about an hour in. It hurt and it stung and the pain lasted much longer than I expected, but it turned out to be nothing I couldn’t handle. Nobody peed on me from the boat, thank goodness. I saw many other pretty and colourful jellies along the way, which also made the experience feel magical and surreal. Sometimes they bumped into me, as if giving me a little nudge.

And yes, despite taking Zofran and other anti-nauseants and antihistamines ahead of time, and relying on UCan as my priority energy source, I still vomited around 4 hours in. If it hadn’t been for Debbie’s approach to my feeding plan, and the magnificent concoctions she created that gave me nutrition, hydration, and pain and nausea management exactly when I needed it, I don’t think my swim would have been succcessful. Because this swim is HARD – and required me to turn on my speed and kick and push and get faster and stronger just when my body would normally tell me to go and fuck my hat. I always had enough sustenance and calories and focus. Maybe it was eye of newt after all. Maybe she’s….a wizard.

The middle of the swim – hours four to twelve – are murky in my mind. The sun rose, I changed to polarized goggles, and I was aware that my left boob was just hanging out the whole time, even though I had specifically chosen a bathing suit that normally holds the girls in and doesn’t chafe. I guess my boob wanted some glory too. I tried to adjust this during my feeds to save time, but she persisted. Oh well.

The last four hours in French waters were hard and forced me to dig deep to places I’d hoped I could access but never really had before. The strength of the current that was pushing me back into the Channel instead of into the Cap forced me to use every bit of mental and physical strength I could muster. Brent communicated this risk to me during my feeds, and I knew he meant it. I could sense the concern from the captain and Stan, the official observer from the CSPF. This is the section where most swims are aborted, especially when the tides change. And given that while I am a swimmer with reasonable technique and endurance, I am not particularly strong or fast. I’m 50 and more physiologically suited to pinching perogies. I have small hands and feet, and I’m 161 cm tall. The “Channel weight” I’ve maintained during my training helps to keep me warm and buoyant (and cuddly), but it doesn’t make me faster.

So – I had to find the will somewhere. I had to reason with myself, and tell myself that I could do anything for one more hour, and then another hour. I had to think about my Dad and conjure his voice, saying “Come on! You’ve gotta be tough!!” I had to use the power of the words of the people on the boat, who believed in me. Somehow, the shore grew closer, and then I was standing. And then I was walking, and crying, and clearing the water on all sides as required.

🎥: Debbie Collingwood

There were many more people who contributed to this effort. People who paddled for me, like Scott. People who built kick-ass training plans, like Amy. People who swam with me, put in kilometres alongside me, and urged me to get in the water, like Phred. People who saw that I wasn’t actually very tough, like my RMT Terry Downs who watched me levitate when she tried to work on my neck. And Jess Deglau, who is an amazing physiotherapist AND one of Canada’s best butterfliers ever. Emma France from Dover Channel Training, who introduced me to UCan.

Holger. My Mum. The Hoffmans. Nicole and Craig. Martyn. Kylie and Robynne. Donna and Don. Brendan. Sarah. My ATLS SwimSquad. Gary and Jane and the lovely champagne!

And Catherine Taylor-Ludolf. Without her kind and selfless offer to switch spots, I would have had to wait until September, 2026 to attempt my English Channel Swim. I know she’s gonna smash it out of the park. She’s such a star.

I also just achieved my fundraising goal. I raised $10,000 for Canadian Tire Jumpstart Children’s Charities through the generous donations from people all over the world, including The Earl of Sandwich, who we met on the train from London to Dover. Many people donated twice – which truly makes my heart grow three sizes. Jumpstart has been a dream to work with. I will keep my donation page open as long as folks are interested.

After a few emotional days in Edinburgh, I sit on the grass in London Fields, where I’m just about to have a swim at my favourite London Lido. Everything is going to be ok, and maybe this is just the beginning.

Everything is ok and maybe this is just the beginning. ♥️

Trusting the Process: One Month To Go

Posted on May 30 by Aerin Bowers

One month from now, I will be in Jolly England with a score to settle. While the rest of my compatriots celebrate Canada Day with fireworks and Fireball, I’ll be nervously watching the wind forecast from my seat on the Dovercoaster.

Just kidding – I’m not really the score-settling type. But I’m not gonna deny that this time feels very different than the last time I was a month away from an attempt to swim the English Channel.

What’s different?

Last year’s open water training ramp was a lot longer, from May to the end of September. It also included a number of the Across the Lake Swim events as well as my Around Coronado Swim. At the end of August 2024, I’d been really giving it my all for 4-5 months. I was extremely well-conditioned, but I was also pretty tired, and dealing with the expected aches and pains of a woman of my vintage. This time my distance building ramp is a lot shorter, mostly because of the short window of open water swimming in a survivable temperature in our chilly Canadian lakes. Once the temperature hits 12 degrees, I’m generally good to go. Most of my build has been done in the pool during March and April, where I focused on speed and technique, as well as building my weekly back-to-back distance swims.

I’m just about to start my final big distance build cycle before a short pre-window taper. Coming up are a five and a two, a six and a three, a six and a seven, a three and a two, and a two and a two. I will additionally swim three times each week in the pool, continuing to work on technique and speed. On the weekends, I swim back-to-back long slow swims, which is a proven method of training and conditioning for ultra-distance athletes. These long slow swims allow me to relax into the extended period of time both physically, psychologically, and emotionally. I have to accept that there will be boredom and there will be pain. Without fail, I say to myself, “This is what you’re doing today.” at the beginning of each long swim, which creates the mindset I need to endure the time. Long and slow is the name of the game, like a snail doing laps in a bathtub.

That’s not to say that once I accept that “this is what I’m doing today” it becomes easier or less painful, just that acceptance sort of allows me to focus on getting started and settling in. I never know how I’m going to feel three hours in. Last week I swam a five hour in Victoria’s Thetis Lake and had the absolute worst time of my life during hours two and three. My neck burned and screamed at me. My arms complained and nagged. My shoulders called me every bad name in the book. But somehow, hours four and five got better. In some ways, each swim is a lifetime. And in the same way that some people forget the pain of childbirth or suppress trauma, my body and mind allow me to get back in the water the next day to do it all over again, and often I feel better and swim better the next day. Research supports the practice of doing between 50-75% of the distance you’re going to do in your event over back-to-back days. This is the proof that I cling to, partly because it worked for me last year, but also because I believe that it’s necessary to “trust the process” to become properly psychologically ready.

Part of being able to put my body through this amount of training is the necessity of massage and physiotherapy. Rest assured that my benefit limits have long been reached by this point, but I have learned to never scrimp on these crucial services. I work with exceptional professionals who understand my goals and provide treatments that are often specific to the overuse of certain parts of my body; namely my neck and shoulders. I’m in the gym twice a week working on strength, balance, and flexibility, and I use a foam roller, the old “tennis ball in a sock”, and any doorway I can hang from at home. I’m at the point where I can barely shoulder-check when driving, so I mostly ride my bike instead! I’m grateful to Jessica and Terry for putting up with my big baby tantrums and resistance to having my neck touched. I’m also grateful to Holger, and Scott, and Debbie, and my Mum, and Phred, and Brent, and everyone else who listens to me ramble on about my training and my FEELINGS.

The Oru Kayak that gets this snail around the bathtub.

With all this structure, it’s still difficult to “trust the process” and feel confident that I have enough volume under my belt. In fact, I worry about it all the time. The main thing is to get to the day and believe it on that day, and I work on that every day.

Post-swim golden hour at Sarsons Beach, Kelowna

Here’s what’s coming up next, for those who like to be in the loop:

June is Jumpstart Month, and I’ll be kicking my fundraising campaign into high gear! Stay tuned for the fun, and please follow me on Instagram for inspiring content about my WHY, my swim, and how your generous donation can help kids access the activities they love, without financial barriers.
As mentioned, the BIG BACK-TO-BACKS start pretty much now, and I love getting messages of support to help me push through these long training swims.
I’ll be honing and refining my nutrition plan to prevent the barforamas of the past. I’m looking forward to sharing what works for me in both training and on the day, since so many people have reached out to me with similar issues.
I haven’t yet decided on my wardrobe for the day of the swim, but I have narrowed my options to a few solid choices and I’d love your feedback.

Thanks for reading and supporting and cheering and challenging me – this is all part of the process that I am learning to trust, and knowing I’m not alone and have all of you in my Quackpacker makes a massive difference.

And Suddenly, It Was April

Posted on May 4 by Aerin Bowers

April, you came and went so fast, I hardly knew ye. I slogged away at my speed and build mesocycles, and tried to approach the long swims a with resolutely stoic attitude. Two hours of back and forth in a 25 metre pool is not actually much fun. Three is even less jolly, once you’ve counted all the flip turns. Still, you’ve gotta get it done!

I survive by breaking the swim into 30 minute blocks and think about a different technique point during each block. Keep one eye in the water when breathing. Elbows up. Fingers in one line. I also have a delicious slug of UCan every 30, since I’m training my gut to love it. It doesn’t make me feel nauseous but I do not look forward to the flavour. I’m saving my precious Cocoa Delight for the BIG ONE, so it’s either Lemon (ok) or Cran Raspberry (ugh). They are not making Cocoa Delight anymore, which is incredibly disappointing to all of us picky eaters out there. If you’re reading this and have an extra tub laying around, I’d pay a pretty premium to take it off your hands. I don’t even care if you’ve licked it – which is outrageous, if you know me. I never share my ice cream.

April was a whole lot of work travel too, as the first month of the busiest quarter in my biz. This means planes, trains, waking up with my hand between two pillows…and figuring out the available lane swim times wherever I go. I swam at Toronto’s Pam McConnell Aquatic Centre on an extremely busy night, with at least ten people in each lane – a practice in patience and reminding myself that WE ARE ALL HERE TO SWIM, which ultimately makes the world a better place. The reasonable and rational voice in my head says, “…slow down and work on drills – and smile.” A few days later I had an almost exact opposite experience at the storied Etobicoke Olympium (a perfect reason to stay near the airport in Toronto if there ever was one!) where I was blessed with three free pre-flight hours and my choice of several 50 metre lanes. I faced the wrath of jam-packed pools at Edmonton’s Kinsmen Sports Centre, but ultimately got it done in honour of Little Aerin who competed here as a kid, with stars in her eyes.

A last-minute decision to accompany my love to a conference in San Francisco (lest he be messed around entering the US) turned into a week of amazing pre-season open water experiences. I swam four times at Aquatic Park – three solos and once accompanied by an awesome colleague who introduced me to the South End Rowing Club (cheers Brendan!), starting my cold water inauguration at 13-14 degrees. Swimming at Aquatic Park brought floods of memories of my 2014 San Fran adventure with my parents, where as a newbie to the sport, I swam the Escape from Alcatraz. Walking the same pavement and standing exactly on the same sand as where I hugged my Dad after the finish brought up a lot of emotions for me. I thought about my Dad throughout the whole trip, and I reckon he’d be pretty happy about where my swimming odyssey has taken me.

You can also get a day pass both the Dolphin Club and the South End Rowing Club on alternating week days, which is so great for visitors to the area. I loved exploring the historic buildings with their beautiful wooden boats and incredible collection of swimming memorabilia. Oh, and the sauna! Is there anything better than a nice, slow warming after a cold and salty ocean swim?

The icing on the San Francisco cake happened when I reached out to Pacific Open Water Swim Co to see if they had any last-minute slots for longer weekend swims in the San Francisco Bay. They offer so many epic swims, training support & coaching, and local experiences – like noone else in the area. I don’t usually leave things to the last minute and I didn’t expect it to work out. Then I got a message from Sylvia and a plan came together! We met at the marina on the west side of the Golden Gate Bridge and we headed for Belvedere Cove, near Tiburon. We hit it off immediately, chatting about all things open water, the English Channel, feeds, and safety (threw a Shaka for safety practice) and I knew I was in great hands for a three-hour swim in the windy and choppy conditions. I was nervous about the rough water and currents and definitely considered what creatures may lurk below and what I might do if one should chomp off my leg. But Channel swimmers have gotta be tough and prepared, so I Vaselined my neck, pulled my beautiful new Rise swimsuit out of my bum and jumped in.

As mentioned, I’d been a little freaked out about what wildlife I might encounter in this body of water. I was accompanied by a seal during an Aquatic Park swim earlier in the week, and I’d spent maybe a bit too much time googling local shark species the night before. So when a pelican landed about a metre in front of me, I said “Hey Buddy!” and thought nothing of it. But when the pelican came back a second, and then a third time, I knew it wasn’t there to cheer me on. I tried to kick it away, but this just seemed to aggravate it and it started to flap its big elbowy wings and peck at my leg. Sylvia blasted the air horn, but this Buddy wasn’t fazed and made it quite clear that I wasn’t welcome. I booted it for the boat and climbed in, and we motored to a different spot. Getting attacked by a pelican was definitely not on my bingo card.

The rest of the swim went swimmingly, I felt strong and handled the waves better than I expected to. I wanted to do the swim to improve my confidence, and I accomplished just that, thanks to the expert guidance of my new swimming friend Sylvia. If you’re looking for a Bay Area swimming adventure, she’s your gal!

Looks rough, was rough. You’ve gotta be tough.

I can now swim over an hour in my local lake at 12-13 degrees, much earlier than last year which sets me up nicely going into the Channel Qualifier. This is a requirement for all aspiring swimmers and involves a documented six hour continuous swim at 16 degrees or less. I’ve had no problems with this swim in the past and I’m looking forward to smashing it in the Okanagan Lake in two weeks with good pals and lots of laughs.

Pep talk from Harriet before a chilly dip

In the meantime, I’ll be in Saskatoon for work and to celebrate my Mum’s 75th birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUM!!), and then onward to Gimli, Manitoba. Maybe I’ll take a dip in Lake Winnipeg!

With just 8 weeks until my window opens, I’d just like to remind peeps that I am fundraising for Canadian Tire Jumpstart Children’s Charities – and I’m more than halfway to my goal of $10,000! Jumpstart’s mission is to remove financial barriers for any Canadian child who wants to participate in sports or activities. Jumpstart supports kids in communities all over Canada, and they have been absolutely awesome in their support of me and my goal. If their mission resonates with you the way it does with me, you can donate here, or help by spreading the word. Thanks!

Off to the pool!

The Big News

Posted on April 3 by Aerin Bowers

As many of you know, I was supposed to swim across the English Channel last September. The weather gods made other plans, so I waited around in Dover for 7 days but didn’t get a chance to swim. Swimmers call this period of waiting and wondering and hoping and despairing “the Dovercoaster” and I rode it like I stole it.

I had a few months to lick my wounds and process the disappointment, and soon enough I refocused my training for an attempt at California’s Catalina Channel in late June. And then in late February, world events (that I won’t get into here) impacting the safety, security and sovereignty of Canada led me to a decision to cancel my Catalina slot to avoid travel to the US. Without an official BIG SWIM in the plan, I thought about things like joining a square-dancing club, becoming a tradwife and learning to pickle, or unicycling to the Yukon – all worthwhile pursuits but not what my chlorinated little heart really desired. I would just have to wait until September 2026 for my chance to swim the Channel.

I’d been off Facebook for a while but found myself back in different swimming groups to look for someone to take my Catalina slot. And the day after I canceled it, I noticed a video with a story that would change everything. The person in the video – an accomplished marathon and ice swimmer in the UK – had been training for an English Channel attempt in July 2025, but an unexpected and necessary medical intervention would make that date impossible. She was looking for someone with a later booking who might want to swap.

It dawned on me. She was looking for someone with a later booking who wanted… to….SWAP!

She was looking for me!

I sent a message saying that indeed I would love to swap my September 2026 window for a new window of July 1-10,k 2025. She responded, and through some truly wonderful conversations we decided to move forward with requests to our respective pilots and the two Channel Swimming governing bodies. It seemed to happen all in a happy, dreamy blur – the pilots agreed, the governing bodies agreed, some paperwork and international transfers happened, and there you have it. I WILL swim this year!

I am so grateful to Catherine for putting it out there. I know she’ll be back and ready to smash it come next September, and I will do everything in my power to honour her generosity and swim my best swim ever in July.

Which means….that I’ve purchased another ticket for the Dovercoaster, and it’s a mere 18 weeks away. My window opens on July 1, which happens to be Canada Day. And I think that’s quite a perfect day to do something awesome, especially this year. I confirmed my intrepid support team (stay tuned…although I can say that Brent the Beaver is back to remind me to keep my elbows up, the decorated Triple Crown swimmer Debbie Collingwood will keep me focused, and a certain German that I love dearly will be frying weinerschnitzel on the boat.)

I’ve renewed my fundraising campaign with Jumpstart Children’s Charities. Having raised over $5000 toward my goal of $10,000, I know I can get there this year! I am honoured to partner with a Canadian organization making such an impact on the lives of children all over the country by removing financial barriers so that they can experience the activities they are passionate about.

Buckle up, ‘coz the Dovercoaster rides again! That’s the news!

The Dovercoaster

Posted on September 25, 2024 by Aerin Bowers

Here we are in Dover! Ready to swim, ready to go, all supplies organized, team is primed, shoulders are limber…..and so I wait.

And I wait.

And the forecast is unrelenting, so I wait some more.

We look at other forecasts, hoping to find a glimmer of sunshine, a tamped down wind. We hear from the pilot, who is reassuring but promises nothing. We make jokes, that “it’s a bit shit, innit.” We eat fish & chips, enjoy a pint, play Scrabble, and explore, because there is really so much to see here – so much that reinforces why the English Channel is such a special, magical, mythical swim. Just think of what’s happened over it and under it and in it. I’m not a religious person, but the Channel has a spirit, and when you’re here you are IN IT (innit).

I read messages of support over and over again, wishing I had better, more concrete news to share. I receive a lot of concerned, but well-meaning weather reports. It’s hard to believe that people are so interested in the swim, and sometimes the tears come as I’m overwhelmed with the kindness and grace of my friends, family, and complete strangers who reach out with affirmations. My eyes brim each night as I close them for another sleep, heart bursting with anticipation. Not worrying about the situation at work, the dog, the unrelenting forecast. Just breathe and rest, silent mode, no alarms.

I’m on this roller coaster of emotional torture known to Channel swimming aspirants as “the Dovercoaster.” It is indeed like being in the front seat of a twisting, turning, careening ride, but one with no end in sight. It creates a level of nausea mixed with a low grade of anger, frustration, and despair. The top layer, the visible one, is reinforced with resoluteness and optimism. I will swim.

The weather will turn.

The wind will chill out, just long enough for me and all the others on this ride to get. it. done.

In the meantime, making the most of it becomes a mantra, in the same way I’ve internalized Holger’s “you will do it” said to me a thousand times, because I miss him but I also need to believe it.

In the meantime, fun and exploration abounds. We scour Dover for fish and chips, English breakfasts and good beer. I swim an hour every day in the 2 km harbour loop, close my eyes and pretend I’m IN IT – this is what it might feel like to be actually doing it. We play in the Castle and soak up the tales, and stroll the White Cliffs, bellies full of scone and cream and jam, layered just right. I read Andy’s WhatsApp messages, but not before taking a deep breath because he hasn’t said it’s not happening yet, just to be patient and sit tight.

One of these times the message will say “Get ready!” and we will spring into action. Will it be Saturday? What will that feel like?

The bus ride back from Canterbury is rainy and dark, and I imagine that out there it’s so much worse, and I’m glad to not be there right now in a gale force nightmare.

Trust. Wait. Believe.

Summer Lovin’, Had Me a Blast

Posted on September 1, 2024 by Aerin Bowers

Today marks the first day of September, in the year 2024.

My 50th birthday is in 14 days.

My English Channel swim window opens in 22 days.

But before we get into all of that, what a summer! Summer, you were sure something. I had so many brilliant swim experiences in July and August that it is hard to imagine that September will take the cake. A recap is in order, so here we go….

In July I hopped across the pond to undertake a weekend of salty swims with Dover Channel Training. When I learned about the opportunity to get some actual Channel experience with a group that has supported so many swimmers, I had to sign up. While I’ve spent a lot of time in the UK, I’d never been to Dover and was keen to get a sense of the situation. I travelled from London and became more and more excited as I saw the coastal views out the window of the train, Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat playing loud in my headphones. I stayed in a cute and cozy little place near Churchill House, where my crew and I will stay later this month. With a mere 10 minute walk to Dover Harbour, it was the perfect location to suss out places to get food, replenish supplies, and, of course, drink beer. The iconic White Horse pub was right across the street from my digs, so I strolled over for some Channel inspiration. The walls and ceiling of the pub are covered with years of Sharpie’d accounts of Channel swims. Walking from room to room, you can look up and see the handwriting of many a swimming legend, and I spotted autographs from Sarah Thomas, Martyn Webster, The Crazy Canucks, Sally Minty-Gravett, and my own coach, Brent Hobbs! I’d heard that the new owners no longer allow swimmers to write on the walls, but the barmaid assured me that indeed they do. I may have even scoped out a spot for my future self.

My Dover weekend plan called for two five hour swims back to back. Part of the deal is that the DCT team provides hourly feeds, and I was eager to see if their offerings might solve my ongoing challenge with nausea. I told Emma about my “issues”, and she suggested UCan, a cornstarch-based product that a good old Dad invented for his daughter who suffered from stomach issues. Eager to test it, I started my swim with around twenty other Channel hopefuls. We swam laps around Dover Harbour, which on that day offered a mix of conditions ranging from wind and waves to blindingly bright sunlight. The laps are approximately two km and while they don’t actually take you into the actual Channel, they do give you a chance to taste that famous salty water, and soak up the vibes. My first hourly UCan feed went well. It was a slightly chalky, less sweet chocolatey flavour, served warm. It stayed down and filled me up. The second feed was blackcurrant squash. Yum. The third feed was UCan. After three hours of slaying the chop and waves, I had fully expected to blow my cookies. But I didn’t. It stayed down and I kept swimming. At the five hour mark I was supposed to stop for the day, but I felt so good and strong with actual calories in my body that I decided to keep going and swim the full seven. Not a single barf exploded from my mouth. I don’t think I even burped. All that happened was that my smile grew and grew like the Grinch’s heart, as I realized that I might have (gasp!) found. my. feed! I went back to the b’n b with some pretty major chafing that I didn’t even feel because I was so happy, grabbed some fish and chips, and tucked myself in for the restful sleep I’ve need to do it over again tomorrow.

The next morning I woke up and strolled through town to the harbour for the ten a.m. start. To my surprise, the amazing Sarah Thomas and Neil Hailstone were on the beach, greeting swimmers and soaking up congratulations for Neil’s successful Channel swim earlier in the week. How starstruck was I!? I knew they were in the area from Sarah’s Instagram stories, but I could never have hoped to actually meet her in Dover Harbour, in my bathing suit, covered in Vaseline (me, not her). If you haven’t heard of Sarah Thomas, well, she’s pretty much the most accomplished swimmer of all time. She is the only person to have completed a four-way English Channel, and holds the world record for the longest lake swims in 104 mile Lake Champlain and 80 mile Lake Powell. Meeting her was magic for my heart and my mind, inspiring and timely. I thought, “Here is a person who has done all of these amazing things. And she’s just a person on the same beach as you. And she shook your hand, and your hand was so slimy.” Do yourself a favour, and instead of watching Nyad, watch this. The real deal.

Day two of DCT went just swimmingly, with rain and wind in the mix, no vomits, strong shoulders for five hours, and lots of fun. It was so great to meet this crew and learn from their experiences. I highly recommend that anyone planning a Channel swim should try to invest in a weekend of training. It made a massive difference for my mindset for the upcoming swim. Tasting the Channel – it’s frickin’ salty, my dude – definitely helped me get in the headspace for the big gulp.

I waved goodbye to jolly England and after some Lufthansa shenanigans, made my way to Zurich via Amsterdam to meet Holger for the second half of my swim vacation. We loved Zurich and the people we met there two years ago for the Lake Zurich Swim, so it seemed a natural place to meet and continue my training. Zurich is a spectacular lake, with so many swimmer’s amenities in the communities that surround it. We did a mix of camping in Rapperswil and luxury bed and breakfasting at the Oberhaus in Feldbach. Reconnecting with legendary swimmer and friend Martyn Webster led to fun swims at the Rapperswil Seebadi, a trip into the mountains seeking cold water in the Klönteralsee, and a list of awesome suggestions that were a veritable Swiss scavenger hunt of swimming. Martyn and Cat also had us over for dinner and to watch some Olympic swimming. I swam in a pool in the lake at Sportbad Käpfnach, communed with the topless at Seebad Utoquai, and set off from the Oberhaus several times with Holger in a rowboat. Is there anything more romantic than a German in a rowboat, safely (backwards) steering you away from ferries and sailboats? I think not. I left Switzerland full of chocolate and cheese, wishing I could live there someday. I also had some great swims and benefited from many conversations with Martyn about everything from nutrition to mileage.

Back in Canada, I had two days to recover and leverage the jet lag before the first of my Across the Lake Swim Series events: the Rattlesnake Island 7km Swim. Ten years ago my ex-husband tried to run me over with a canoe, last year I bonked, and this year I won a wooden medal for second place in my age category! Things do change!

The following weekend was the Skaha Lake 11.8 km on August 11, and I had another great swim, finishing third in my age group.

I swam the Kalmalka Lake 4.5 swim on August 17 and had another third place finish, and then finished second in my age in the Gellatly Bay 5 km swim just yesterday morning on the very last day of August.

Holger with a bronze in his very first open water swim!

Gellatly capped off a month of races that challenged me to continue my focus on the long game, but forced me to bring my competitive spirit to the table and push myself to swim a double on many of those race days, and another long swim the day after. This genius series is one of the best parts about living in BC, and I am proud to be a Swim Squad ambassador. I do love me some Lake Zurich living, but it doesn’t compare to hugging my swim pals, celebrating our results, and supporting one another in our close-knit swimming community five weeks in a row. I’m so grateful to Emily, Randy, and Julian for paddling assistance this summer, and fun times with Elaine, Deb, Dionne, Phred, Brent, Kylie, Sean, Robynne, and so many others.

A Naramata swim with the wonderful Elaine, aka Naramata Blend

If anything, I am most proud that I have mostly stuck to the plan, leading up to my “Peak Week” seven and six hour back to back swims next weekend. And once those are done, the tapering begins. And at the end of the taper is a body of water that I’ve been waiting for, that waits for me and demands that I be ready. And I will be.

Want to help me raise $10,000? Not for me, silly, but for Canadian Tire Jumpstart Charities. Jumpstart helps kids facing financial and accessibility barriers access sports and play. 100% of your donation goes directly to helping kids play. My fundraiser is now LIVE and you can read about it here.

Stay Classy, San Diego! The Around Coronado Swim

Posted on July 10, 2024 by Aerin Bowers

Open water swimming brings me incredibly memorable adventures. It also brings me close to my limits from time to time, or at least what I think are my limits. Sometimes, pushing limits and meeting amazing people and having adventures and swimming in cool places all converge, and that’s how last week’s Around Coronado Swim went down.

Earlier this year, I started planning a June work trip to San Diego. Knowing where I’d be in relation to my English Channel training plan, I looked for a local swim that would offer enough distance and some ocean experience. I don’t have many opportunities to train in salt water and ocean conditions, and preparing for the conditions I’ll swim in September is critical to my success. As soon as I googled “San Diego open water” – the answer was there in gleaming, flashing neon lights – the Around Coronado Swim! I scanned the website and found the contact page, and Dan Simonelli, and that’s where this swimming story begins.

My personal San Diego story starts back a little further, 1985 to be exact. My Dad, a high school physical education teacher, settled on San Diego State University as the place where he’d do his Master’s degree. So down we drove, from Saskatchewan to California in a 1979 Dodge Aspen with a U-Haul in tow. I was ten, my sister was seven, my parents were in their mid-thirties (omg!) and we were ready for an adventure. We lived in a condo in La Mesa and spent a great deal of time hanging out at San Diego’s beautiful beaches. Keen speed-swimmers, we joined the Heartland Swim Club in El Cajon which became our primary activity and social community. I was too weird and nerdy to fit in at school, but swim clubs are often hubs for misfit children. Much like the way school uniforms create a level playing field, there is equity in the idea of everyone in a Speedo. Thank goodness for that. We had a blast with our lycra-clad swimming family.

We often drove across the tall, statuesque Coronado Bridge to hang out on the Island on the weekends. We couldn’t afford to stay (or even buy a snack) at the famous Hotel Del Coronado, but we did learn how to sneak in and use the bathroom, which is a skill that I’ve continued to leverage to this very day. I’ve peed in some of the world’s most beautiful hotels. I’ve written about some of my formative San Diego experiences here and here. It was quite a time!

Aerin Bowers and Kelly Bowers hold boogie boards on Coronado Beach in 1985. — Me & My Dad on Coronado Beach, 1985

So yes, San Diego is special to me, and Coronado holds many core memories of my Dad and our year down there. That I would find a swim there at the perfect time and place was pure kismet, so I reached out to Dan and we started to make some plans for a late June window. Dan Simonelli (or, more commonly referred to as Dan SWIMonelli) is a living legend of open water swimming. He’s an accomplished swimmer and coach, and is an inductee Honour Coach to the International Marathon Swimming Hall of Fame. He’s a Carnegie Hero Award winner, an Official Observer for both the World Open Water Swim Association and the Catalina Channel Swimming Federation, and he is a very, very nice guy who took an interest in my challenge and supported me before and during my swim. Throughout the last few months, Dan and I connected about once a month to check in on my tide window and chat about things like nutrition, logistics, etc. He even sorted out my land crew for the finish, so that I’d be greeted on the beach with a towel and a warm drink. He exuded calm and confidence, and I could hardly wait to meet him in person.

June came around, I completed my 6 hour English Channel Qualifier, and I set my sights on Coronado. This swim is a 19 km (12 mile) near-circumnavigation of Coronado Island. It typically starts early in the morning at the Glorietta Bay Boat Launch on the San Diego Harbour side of the island. It finishes on Gator Beach, just beside the US Naval Base. Swimmers are assisted by the flow of an ebb tide for the first two thirds of the swim, under the Coronado Bridge and across from the lights of downtown San Diego, the airport, through the Bay, and then round the Zuniga Jetty to swim in open ocean for the remaining unassisted 5 km. The sun rises just as you’re rounding the top of the island, with Point Loma on your right.

I felt generally very well-prepared physically for this swim. But a few nights before the event, I let my curiosity get the better of me and indulged in some late night googling about the prevalence of creatures that inhabit this region of the Pacific Ocean, namely great white sharks. BAD IDEA. Never do this. For the first time I actually felt fear and trepidation in my stomach about a swim, and it wasn’t just tacos. What would I do in the event of an encounter? How would two paddlers fend off a twenty-foot Megalodon – with their paddles?!? Knowing that the first half of the swim was in the dark, how would I reassure my brain when faced with near blindness? Was I going to freak out? Would I be able to set that scary feeling aside and actually swim? I spoke with my friend Debbie and her (always) sage advice was to just “have the freak out and carry on.” She’s swum the Catalina Channel and survived and she’s one brave lady. Holger (my ever so practical boyfriend) advised me to abandon plans to wear my bright pink swimsuit in favour of the blue one, so I’d blend in better, and anything or anyone lurking below would maybe not notice me and mistake me for a tasty harbour seal. I do sort of resemble a tasty harbour seal no matter what colour my bathing suit is, but I was grateful for his advice, as always. I even swapped out my feeding strategy at the last minute to a minimal version that I hoped would lessen the likelihood of blowing chum-like chunks that would attract the creatures of the deep. But yeah, I was freaking out.

I was due to meet Dan and the other support kayaker, Summer Wesson, at the Glorietta Bay Boat Launch at 3 am. I’d booked an Uber from my downtown hotel to pick me up at 2:30 am, so I arrived a little earlier than Dan and Summer and I strolled around trying to calm my nerves, stretch, and visualize a successful and brave swim. When they arrived, we made quick and friendly introductions, went through the feeding and safety plan, and I signed the waiver/my life away to the fate of the ocean. Summer had literally just hours earlier returned from a swim around the Florida Keys. She also recently completed the first 2-way swim between Isla Mujeres and the Mexican mainland. I was honoured to be in such impressive company. The Around Coronado Swim is a sanctioned event with the Marathon Swimmer’s Foundation, so Dan’s role would be as official observer, rule-enforcer, and photographer. Summer would handle feeds. They’d flank me on either side. In order to make the most of the tide, we had to start at 3 am sharp. I greased up with Desitin and lanolin, took an anti-nauseant pill, affixed a light to my goggles, and stood on the shore waiting for Dan’s official countdown.

Dan gave the signal and I waded into the dark water, put my face in, located the bright green and red lights of Summer’s kayak, and started to swim. I could almost immediately feel the pull of the ebb tide as we headed toward the bridge. My eyes adjusted to the total darkness but I couldn’t see my hands entering the water, nor my arm pulling through. I noticed the briny taste and immediate softness and buoyancy of the water – so different than swimming in the lake. After a while, I could see the bright, sparkly lights of San Diego on my right, and the bridge above me. I started to relax, and I started to have fun.

Summer’s in the kayak, and that little red light in the water is me. It’s me!

I’ve always enjoyed night swimming, and this was no exception. It’s such a thrill to move through the water in the absence of light, knowing that there’s a whole other world below you. It’s just you – your body moving in the water at the darkest, quietest possible time. Of course, I wasn’t alone and my feeds (and conversations) with Summer and Dan started at 30 mins in and every 30 mins thereafter. We passed many boats in the harbour, and I wondered about the people peacefully snoozing in their cabins while I swam past. Soon enough I was swimming past the North Island’s Naval Air Station on my left, and then the San Diego airport on my right. Currents of varying levels of warmth and coldness passed over me and through me in every direction, and the thought occurred to me that I was swimming through stripes. I think night swimming heightens the awareness of the body, since hearing and sight are limited, and the weightlessness makes you very aware of sensations like different temperatures.

I wanted to try a very minimal feeding strategy for this swim, with a maximum of 250 calories and 30 grams of carbs per hour. Gels are the easiest way to accomplish this, and I was loaded up with a bunch of different varieties since I didn’t know what I could tolerate in the salt water. I’d planned to try S Fuels Race + again but had some flashbacks of projectile vomiting in Zurich as soon as I opened the packet to mix it in the hotel. Dan’s advice, knowing my proclivity for puking, was “hydration over calories”, and this was definitely successful for the first half of the swim. At each feed I drank about 200 ml of fresh water, which I looked forward to as much as the feeds. The mildly flavoured Maurten gels went down well, and I wasn’t hungry or full. Just thrilled.

A fine line of daybreak started to rise on the horizon as we were approaching Point Loma and the left turn around the jetty. and the movement of the water began to change. The current that had scooted me from the bay mellowed out, replaced by the more typical ocean swells. The light changed so much and so slowly, and I could see Summer and Dan during feeds. I adjusted to the different conditions and wondered if the twinge of nausea would go away or get worse. With the twinge of nausea came the standard feeling of not feeling so well at all, so I keep my head down and observed the developing discomfort. I’d packed a pumpkin puree packet (say that 5 times fast) and hoped that the purported claims of settling the stomach were true. They might have been, but the rank, bland taste of pumpkin in a big glob in my mouth nearly triggered the barf. At this point, the salt water also started to really bother me, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I’d produce a bucket of chum. An accidental gulp of water was the catalyst I was waiting for. And out it all came, in 2 glorious underwater exorcisms. I’ve honed my barfing technique so as not to totally gross out my support folks, but Dan and Summer were so kind and understanding, assuring me they’d seen it all before.

My next 2 feeds were water and then water and a banana, as I regained strength and began to enjoy myself again. We passed a buoy covered in honking pelicans and bellowing sea lions – even a baby one – adding to the thrill of the swim.

With feeds back on track, I carried on as the sun rose higher in the sky. Having rounded the jetty, the other side of the island, with Coronado Beach, the Hotel Del Coronado, and the Silver Strand State Beach was on our left. We were far enough out and I was deep in my mode without any idea how much further I had to go, in that common “zone out” that happens during long swims. At some point I asked and was told about an hour, so I made a point of enjoying every last minute and second of that hour. My shoulders felt strong and while I was constantly thirsty, the nausea completely subsided. I started to imagine the frozen Pina Coladas in my future at the same time as not wanting the swim to end. I wondered what would happen if I turned around and just started swimming back the other way, but I didn’t mention this idea to Summer or Dan. I think I’ll save it for the next time I do the swim.

The end is near! Moving toward the finish.

Dan had given me detailed instructions for landing on the beach, including torpedoing under the waves so I wouldn’t get somersaulted underwater, and also to shuffle my feet before running on to the beach so that some scary sand dwelling stingray wouldn’t eat me. Or something like that. He also said that I shouldn’t sneak into the Hotel Del Coronado for a pee, so I peed one last time in the ocean. Gator Beach got closer and closer and finally I was bodysurfing a wave into the shore. I gave Dan a wave and a quick shimmy, as one does, and the swim was complete in 5 hours and 26 minutes. I had a party of 2 – swimmer Jeff Breen and his brother – waiting for me with a towel and a warm peppermint tea. They’d agreed to be my land crew while Dan and Summer witnessed the finish and paddled the kayaks in. Jeff would swim his Around Coronado Swim less than 24 hours later. It was great to celebrate with him and chat about his experiences in the Catalina and Monterey Channels.

What a crew! From left: Jeff, Summer, Aerin and Dan.

I basked in a warm glow of exhaustion, relief, and happiness, poolside, for the rest of the day. I basked in the knowledge that I was the first ever Canadian to do this swim! I also basked in the glow of more than one frozen Pina Colada, but who’s counting? The Around Coronado Swim is a really excellent experience, thanks particularly to Dan’s guidance and support before, during, and after. It’s a beautiful, unique swim in an iconic place that now means even more to me than it did before. I’ll never forget it, and I’ll probably be back for another tour around the Island some day. There’s just this pesky Channel swim to get through first…….so it’s back to training. Wonder where I’ll pop up next? Stay tuned!