In celebration of what would have been Walter Poenisch’s 106th birthday on 11 July, I am sticking the below post from 2013 to the top of my blog. Happy birthday Mr. Poenisch and RIP, sir. 

The Diana Nyad controversy continues. As I discussed in other forums, I believe she accomplished an incredible assisted swim, staying horizontal for 53 hours. That’s a long time to swim. A long time to stay horizontal then pop up vertical and walk to dry land. But she is not the first person to swim from Cuba to Florida. Two others accomplished the feat before her, Walter Poenisch and Susie Maroney. In this post, I’ll talk about the first person to make an assisted swim from Cuba to Florida, Poenisch.

Walter Poenisch was an adult onset swimmer, like yours truly, who made it his mission in life to swim from Cuba to Florida, calling the event the Swim for Peace. He started campaigning both the U.S. and Cuban governments for permission to do the swim in 1963, less than a year after the Cuban Missile Crisis. The man was tenacious, like a pit bull, without the unwarranted random killing. He never gave up on the swim.

For training, the man would tow boats in a quarry in Columbus. He owned a bakery, so he’d enlist one or two of his workers to sit in the boat while he swam. Oh, and did I mention he started this dream at the age of 50? Incredible. In 1968 he was 54 and swam his first-ever ocean swim, and made it only 50 miles between Nassau to Miami. He would have made it the entire way if his homemade shark cage hadn’t broken. For all his marathon swims “The World Professional Marathon Swimming Federation awarded [him]  the title of World’s Strongest Endurance Swimmer  for

towing two rowboats containing several people for 3 1/2 miles in Columbus. One year later, he towed a 28-ton, 47-foot yacht for 20 feet against the current of the Miami River, and, in 1971, he pulled a 15-ton steamboat a mile and a half in Gull Lake, Michigan. This generated even more headlines, as well as an appearance on the television show, To Tell The Truth.

The man was incredible, and one younger marathon swimmer wasn’t going to let him have his Swim for Peace. Diana Nyad, in her late 20’s at the time, wanted to be first to swim from Cuba to Florida. In 1978, 15 years after he started the campaign, the Cuban government granted his request. Poenisch immediately called his sports agent, Chuck Jones. Jones wanted the phone number of the Cuban government representative who called Poenisch, in order to verify the information for press purposes. Five days later, Poenisch and his young wife woke up to see a headline in the Ft. Lauderdale News saying that Diana Nyad would attempt the swim. Poenisch called his contact in Cuba, who told him someone “named Chuck Jones” called to discuss a young woman wanting to do the swim. Jones never mentioned Poenisch’s name. The race to swim it first was on.

Fortunately for Poenisch, he was farther ahead in the visa process than Nyad; he started his swim on July 11, 1978.  She didn’t get to scoop him on the start date. However, Jones never got any media for Poenisch’s swim. Worse, an IMSHOF representative, Dick Mullins, called him a fraud. Ironically, Mullins and IMSHOF sponsored Poenisch’s other charity marathon swims throughout the 1970’s, and even awarded him a plaque for his bicentennial swim in ’76. Poenisch took observers on his swim, observers who were known to the community of marathon swimmers, unlike Nyad on her recent (2013) swim. Interestingly, turns out that IMSHOF’s then-director, Buck Dawson, had been Nyad’s coach. Hmmm…

Nyad called Poenisch “overweight” and old at, wait for it…64! (She was wrong, he turned 65 during the swim.) Yep, the same age she was when she completed her assisted swim in 2013. She must have said other harsh things (that she and her ilk now say we, marathon swimmers of the world, have been saying about her!) because Poenisch sued her and the IMSHOF for defamation. Because of a Florida statute of limitations law, pulled out after the case had already been ongoing for four years (!), Poenisch had to settle out of court. He didn’t make enough to pay his lawyer, but he did get a letter from Nyad saying she was wrong!

Poenisch’s widow is still alive (he was 54 when they were married, she was 21!) and was asked what she thought about Nyad’s 2013 swim. “As far as I’m concerned, she helped destroy my husband’s life.” Nothing I’ve read or heard from Nyad since her 2 September 2013 swim makes me think she gives a flying you-know-what. Poenisch was the bigger man. Even while Nyad and Poenisch’s agent were conspiring against him, and right after his swim, Walter Poenisch held back any comments about Nyad. After her attempt, he had this to say:

I didn’t want to harass her the way she harassed me. I knew she wasn’t going to make it and I didn’t want to be blamed for that. I left that girl alone.

Character trumps charisma ego every time!

OK, I have no reason to complain about anything in re: swimming. Ever. Again.

Holy freaking Jesus. Fellow marathon swimmer (how do I even say that; not even in the same league, hell not on the same planet, as him) Sylvain Estadieu swam the English Channel a few days ago in 16 hours, 42 minutes. I know, I know, big whoop, right? Others have swum that stretch of water in half the time. What’s the big deal?

Well dear reader(s), Sylle swam it in butterfly. Yes, you read that right, he swam for 16+ hours using the butterfly stroke! Ho. Lee. Crap. How is that even possible? Well, Sylle is no slouch using good ol’ fashioned freestyle either. He swam the same body of water using that stroke in 2009. But that wasn’t enough for him! So he did it on 22 September using independently-observed, rules-following butterfly stroke. As he’d say in his native French, incrediblé!*  (Say it just like us Americans, only through your nose like Chief Inspector Jacques Clouseau.)  Here he is passing a freaking tanker! (Photo courtesy of accomplished marathon swimmer Donal Buckley)

In preparation for this feat, he swam 1000km of butterfly (this year, up to September), plus 500km of freestyle just in case. Check him out.

*Yes, I know the French say incroyable. I’m using humor. Get over it. Mon dieu!

Dear reader(s) who follow marathon swimming probably have caught the news that Diana Nyad finally swam from Cuba to Florida.

Or did she?

There are skeptics out there, me included. I don’t for a minute doubt that she spent quite a bit of time in the water. Upward of 53 hours vertical. And that’s something to be proud of. But there are some areas of her swim that are questionable, at least in my mind.

So let’s start with the basics. She didn’t do a marathon swim. Even she admits that. A marathon swim means she would have swum in a typical textile suit, cap and goggles. That’s it. Plus, she wouldn’t have touched anything or been touched by anyone/anything. This she did not do, nor do I think she ever stated (for this iteration) that she would be doing a marathon swim. She wore a special jellyfish-proof suit and face mask. So, I have no complaints about that.

She did, however, state that she would be swim non-stop. (Let me insert here this caveat: it is difficult to separate what she said and what her crew/sycophants said.) There is some question on whether or not she swam the entire distance. Her speed increased after 27 hours, doubling her speed of the first 5 hours. Sure, that could be from current. Maybe. Miles 38 to 103 she swam faster than she ever had before. Over 3MPH. Which is very quick.

date  time   elapsed segment total   segment segment
     of day   time    time    dist    dist     mph
-------------------------------------------------------
8/31  1415    4:46    4:46    7.05    7.05    1.48
      1844    9:01    4:15    11.85   4.8     1.13
9/1   0859    24:00   14:15   38.18   26.33   1.85
      1200    27:01   3:01    47.61   9.53    3.16
      1600    31:01   4:00    63.25   15.64   3.91
      2130    36:31   5:30    80.38   17.13   3.11
9/2   0200    42:01   5:30    93.84   13.46   2.45
      0730    47:31   5:30    103.86  10.02   1.82
      1606    52:54   5:23    110.36  6.50    1.21

But for me, the most glaring is the fact that after swimming over 24 hours, she swam through the night, for 7.5 hours, without stopping for any food or water. There are many really experienced marathon swimmers out there, and not one of them can imagine having swum that long, then going 7+ hours without replacing lost calories or liquids. Plus, Diana’s crew included doctors. I can’t imagine any of those doctors would agree that she should go without for so long.

Finally, at least one of her observers was anything but independent. Janet Hinkle was one of her two observers. She had made a comment on Nyad’s blog a couple years ago that sounds very, well, sycophantic:

“Diana …we are confident you will channel your dynamic energy into a new Dream…one that will be rewarding in a new way. It was wonderful meeting you in Key West…I pray our paths will cross again…”

OK. If you really want your swim to be respected, you get an observer that is truly independent. For something like Cuba to Florida, which does not have an organization regulating crossings, you want an independent observer knowledgeable about different marathon swimming organizations, so that in the future, no one can call your swim in question. Know what I’m saying?

An incredible marathon swimmer quoted Sagan: Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. There was a guy back in December that claimed to have swum the North Channel, arguably the most difficult of the Oceans Seven, in December! He was questioned. His observers offered no evidence. He was offered a spot at Ned Denison’s marathon swim camp, which he did not attend. His claim was pretty much proven to be crap.

Diana’s swim is extraordinary. What we, the international marathon swimming community, need is extraordinary evidence. Come on Janet Hinkle and Roger McVeigh (her other observer)! Show us the reports!

Alert reader(s) know that I’m competing in a relay at the Tampa Bay Marathon Swim this weekend. I’ve been doing my usual limited swimming prior to the race. I’ve been debating with myself on this. With 6 people on my relay and with us doing 30-min shifts, how much swimming will I be doing?

I’ve managed to get place #2 in the order. I wanted to be as close to the beginning as possible, in the hopes that I will get more swimming than if I were #6. I don’t know if that will happen, but we’ll see.

So now I’m prepping for the trip. I leave tomorrow morning early on the cheapest flight I could find from DC to Tampa, thus that means a 4-hour layover in Atlanta. That’s fine; I like airports. Great people watching and time for reading. I managed to get a return ticket to Tampa for $170. Besides the long layover, I also have to pay for any checked bags.

But I was smart on that. Anything I needed that might be a problem in a carry-on, I gave to my family when they drove down to FL on Tuesday. (I couldn’t take 2 weeks off from work, so we had to split the trip.) Things like suntan lotion and baby oil and desitin. And since I’ll only be down there for a few days, and one of those I’ll mostly be in my swim suit, I don’t need to pack much for the trip.

For now, I am keeping my fingers crossed that we don’t have another lightning storm like last year, which resulted in the race stopping prematurely. If I’m going all the way down there, dammit, I’m going to swim! I’m also looking forward to meeting my relay. If I can judge by FB, then the Dirty Half Dozen are a fun bunch!

Part I here.

The morning of the race I woke early, but not crazy-early. Registration started at 9, but my wave wouldn’t hit the water until 11:30. My main point for showing up in Totnes early was because of parking. Parking would cost me 6 pounds for the whole day (about $9.50), but I wanted to get close to where the bus at the end would drop me off. (There would be a bus from Dittisham, the end point, back up to Totnes. I wasn’t sure how beat I’d be, so wanted to plan on as little walking as possible.)

I got there bright and early. I was one of the first there, so I walked around to check out the start. I had found some guy’s youtube video of the swim from 2010, so I knew we’d be running (walking!) down the boat ramp into the river. The water looked cold. And in some parts, the current seemed to be going upstream. Stupid Mother Nature.

Boat launch where I thought we’d be starting

Registration was quick; got my swim cap, numbered armband (really a blue rubber band) and bag-tag. Now I just had two hours of anxious waiting until I needed to be in the starting pen. My wave, the blue wave, had to “pen up” at 11:00, where they’d check our numbers to our names. There was no electronic chipping, to keep prices down, so they were especially keen on us checking in and checking out (not the permanent way) of the race.

Totnes Rowing Club, home of Dart 10K registration

Because my wetsuit was sleeve-less, I had to go through the process of getting approved as a non-wetsuit swimmer. It involved an extra paperwork drill, but wasn’t onerous. It meant I’d wear an extra armband, really just a white rubber band. You’ll see in a bit that I wish I’d just worn my grape-smugglers.

Each wave left at 15-min intervals, starting with my new-found friends Liz, Liz, Charlotte and Charlotte (yes, those were their names). I stood on some stairs that led into the water, where the rowers would exit the water. Poor rowers were all kicked out of the river prior to the start by the river authority! Anyway, I stood on those stairs getting used to the water temp. Cold! I figured I’d watch my friends walk from their pen, past me, to the boat launch. Nope! Unlike 2010, the swimmers entered at the stairs! So I got the hell out of the way, and cheered from a different vantage point.

Just me and some of my friends

Some guys were wearing blueseventy booties. I laughed it off, until I had to start walking on pavement without my flip-flops. Ouch. But the water temp didn’t feel too bad after standing on the stairs for 15 minutes. That would change in about 30 minutes.

Waiting in the pen went fast. I checked in and marveled at another blue waver wearing his speedos only. Boy, how jealous I’ll be of him in a matter of hours. Our wave moved from the check-in pen to the “go” pen. We got our pre-race brief. Huge emphasis on checking out at Dittisham. Apparently the OSS conducted a swim a couple weeks prior and five people didn’t check out, and they started a search before those folks called someone to report that they’d already gone home. Jerks!

The pre-race brief ended with “Is everyone ready?” and us shouting “No!” Then we were off. I managed to be about mid-way through my wave, hit the water steps, okay so far, then the leap in when I ran out of stairs. Ay, caramba. Or, since I was in England: “Bloody hell!” Terribly cold. Definitely colder than Copenhagen last year. My first thought was: this wetsuit does nothing against the cold.

I made it across the river, as we had to keep to the right in the river, but the rowing club was on the left bank. The river at this point was not too wide, perhaps 30 yards or so, so that left-to-right crossing was quick and cold. By the time I got to the other side, tarzan-swimming the whole way, I realized I hadn’t started my chrono. Remedied that, put my head down, and just started swimming.

The cold feeling went away within a couple minutes; seriously, I would feel some cold spots during the swim, but nothing that really made me fearful of hypothermia (I’d gotten that once before when I was 16, so I know the signs). Waves of people passed me, as they always do at these races. Is it me not giving an honest seed-time? They asked for our one-mile OW time, which I said was 31:15, a time I did last year in my first OW race. Did the other blue-wavers give slower times so they could feel cool when they passed people? Did they have more adrenalin flowing? Who knows.

And unfortunately, each wave wore the same swim cap, so there was no way for me to see if I was catching any of the earlier waves, or being run over by the wave behind me. (OSS started the waves in slow to fast order; they wanted everyone finishing as close to the same time as possible.) The water tasted very salty, and the water level was much higher than when I scoped out the start two days prior. There must have been a huge influx of seawater; hopefully that meant the water was going back out!

In the NC 5K in July, I started a little swimming process that I thought would help me swim straight, and make the time go. I’d swim for a set number of strokes between sightings. If I noticed myself going off course, I’d cut the stroke count down. If I was going straight, I’d increase the stroke count. So there I went, sighting every 8, then 10 for a while, then 8, occasionally 6. That made the time go, and there were enough swimmers around that I could also just follow them. For the most part, I seemed to always be on course. A couple times I seemed way left, but turned out when I sighted a few times in a row, that I was cutting the corner.

Cut the corner once too far, and a paddleboarder sent me back right. That was okay; safety is paramount, and I didn’t want to do anything that forced them to pull me. Another fear of mine, a fear of the macho side of me, was the OSS policy that if you were so far back that you might not finish in the minimum time, they’d pick you up in their boat, take you a mile or so down river, and drop you back in. And if they decided to do that to you, you had no appeal. I didn’t want my first 10K to really be only 8K.

I hit the 4K feeding station really quickly. My first thought was that my “count, count x 8, sight, repeat” really helped the time go. I figured I’d hit 4K, taking into account my poor navigation skills, at about 1:20. Imagine my surprise when I looked and it was 54:05. Of course, being me, I was sure the OSS measured incorrectly.

Watching the other swimmers at that feeding station was hilarious. The station was a couple inflatable boats lashed together. All you saw were red caps around every inch of the boats. I don’t know how long any of them stayed there, but it looked like a cafe with everyone shooting the breeze. Only later did I find out what they served.

Head down, continue swimming, still amazed at the time. Only in this next stretch, 4K to 8K, did I start to realize the river pushing me. A few times I really felt the current. I have no idea the speed of the current, but it was noticeable.

We passed many boat yards, and the occasional wavy sections when rescue boats went by, but for the most part it was enjoyable and flat. It was between the feeding stations that I started to feel the wetsuit rash. I knew what it was, and just got more and more pissed as I went. Next time, no wetsuit.

The 8K feeding station looked the same as 4K, and I got to it at 2:04. Skipped it just like the other one. Shoulders, arms, legs, everything felt great. I started to do the math. My goal was 3:40, so I knew there was almost nothing that could prevent me from hitting that. How fast could I swim 2K? with river help? Who knows?

The last 1K was brutal. Not because of tiredness; I really felt like I could keep going. However, the waves were crazy. I really got to put to the test my ability to gulp a mouthful of water instead of air, but not panic. I’d worked on that the last year or so; I gulped nasty silt-filled river water every 10 or so breaths, and didn’t panic. I simply coughed it out underwater, and then got air the next right-breath.

The ending was the worst part of the swim. Since OSS sold this as just a relaxing marathon swim, especially for (us) first-timers, there was no finish gate or timers. When you got shallow enough to stand up, you were done. I stood up at 2:34:55. Then I fell down.

The “beach” was nothing more than a silt field. My initial move to the vertical resulted with my legs buried in silt to just above my knees. It literally took me 10 minutes to get out of the water. Then the rough walk up to the Ham, a green area where the after-party was. Again, I thought the booties a good idea. My feet are too wimpy nowadays.

I joined some of my fellow marathoners to change under some trees. They actually had a portable hot tub! No way I was getting in that human soup bowl. But it was funny. I also saw the most ingenious “towel” that apparently a lot of these “wild swimmers” in the UK use. Imagine a swim parka made of terry cloth, with slits up the sides of your legs to about mid-thigh. They would don this robe, and then doff their swim suits underneath, keeping all the private “bits” covered, while I struggled to take my dripping wet speedo off with one hand while holding my beach towel with the other hand.

Changed, I went to get in line for my hot chocolate. The OSS provided a nice coffee mug and free coffee or hot chocolate. They ran out of hot chocolate when I got to the front, but they had soda. So I drank my soda, to kill whatever river creatures I ingested. Then I waited in line for a bus ticket and to pick up my pre-paid hoody. I also bought a nice sweatshirt. Then I bought a Cornish pasty. If you haven’t had them, you must. Very good post-exercise calorie refiller. Imagine a calzone, but filled with lamb, potato and mint, or steak and potato, or cheese and onion. Very filling.

I hung out with my fellows for a while, then made the trek to the bus. No one said anything about climbing a hill! I must say up until that point I thought, “this marathon business isn’t too bad!” But that short walk up the hill killed me. Thankfully there was a nice green area to lay down on when I got to the top.

Bus ride was nice, talking to a lovely Brit lady who works in London dealing with international schools. She and her two friends invited me to have a beer with them in Totnes, but after swimming 10K, I was afraid one beer would put me over the limit, so I declined. I hopped in the car and drove back down to Dartmouth.

At the BRNC I surveyed the damage. My body looked like someone took flexible wire and ran it up and down my back, chest and neck. Ouch! This would take some time to heal. I showered, rinsed my wetsuit, and had a full dinner. I then walked into Dartmouth, to my favorite pub, and had a beer or three. I found out later that the official temp of the water was 15C, and 399 of the 400 starters finished, one having to be pulled for cramps. Not bad! I also found out that the feeding stations were giving out flapjacks, digestives and energy drinks. How crazy is that? Anyway, Marathon Mission complete. I am a marathoner!

All good trip reports start with the story of the beginning. This trip started with me flying to London from Moscow. I chose to take bmi airlines, because they were cheap. Unfortunately, they are somehow connected with the ever-horrible Transaero, one of the worst airlines I’ve ever traveled with.*

Thankfully, I managed to get to London without any serious horribleness. I rented a car in London to drive myself to Dartmouth, where I’d be staying. I managed to get accommodation at the Britannia Royal Naval College. This transpired after a wonderful, half-drunk night spent with some British chums at their embassy bar. I mentioned this swim. They mentioned the college in Dartmouth. I asked if they had a visitor’s quarters for Yanks.

Next thing I know, one of the blokes emailed me to tell me that accommodations have been arranged. Blimey! They even had an American liaison officer there who would take care of me. Awesome! So I made flight arrangements and prepared myself for the swim.

I had heard that the College was like Hogwarts. I didn’t believe it till I saw it. That’s the college at the top of the hill.

I showed up a day prior to what they planned, but lucked out: the College was on summer break, thus they had about 400 rooms empty, so they were able to fit me in.

They gave me a room with a million-dollar, or at least hundreds-of-pounds view of the Dartmouth harbor. Um, I mean, harbour.

The cafeteria was still running. I ate three breakfasts and two dinners there. Total cost for all five meals? 4 pounds, 13 pence. Or $6.60! Incredible! And when I asked my liaison how much the billeting would cost, he said “One pound 50 a night.” WHAT? Are you serious? Two and half dollars a night? Incredible!

So I splurged on tourist crap. And beer at the wonderful pub The Ship in Dock Inn.

Best way to replenish calories after a marathon swim

Next time, part II: The swim!

*I’ve flown Transaero, counting this time, six times. On the return from London, at the very start of the flight, the toilets were already out of toilet paper. On two previous flights, the seat I had lacked an overhead light. On one flight the overhead light just didn’t work. On the other, the entire freaking light was missing from the ceiling. Also, on both of those flights, the in-flight video system AND the music didn’t work. And both flights were full, and on both flights, the people around me had working entertainment systems and lights.