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!

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.

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.

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.

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!

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