Tacoma Jim Goins conducted a one-person swim safari down the West Coast of the USA ...

Fat Salmon Swim, Seattle
Swim with the Centurions, San Francisco

Just after dawn, I arrive at San Francisco's Aquatic Park. I glance out across the glassy waters of the bay to see Alcatraz Island glowing from an unusual dose of morning sun. Conspicuous by its absence is the ever-present "marine layer" of fog and grey cloud that so often bleakly ushers in the days here, often hanging over the city and its iconic Golden Gate until well after midday. Today, the fog has stayed well out to sea, leaving the squinting locals to bask in a refreshingly sunny morning. What a perfect day to take part in the 6th Annual "Swim With The Centurions."

Nearly 250 swimmers will show up today to attempt a 2.4km course which begins out near Alcatraz Island and finishes back here at Aquatic Park. What a fitting place for such a large group of inbound voyagers to make landfall. Aquatic Park is located in the middle of the San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park. The park is partitioned in from the bay to the west by the curving arm of a distinctive breakwater and to the east by the infamous Hyde Street Pier. Prior to the 1937 opening of the Golden Gate Bridge, the Hyde Street Pier was the San Francisco Terminus of what was then the largest commuter ferry operation in the world. A thriving transport hub, this area would have been daily abuzz with humanity before the fateful day when bridge opened and calmly dismissed it into history. This heritage would probably be known to only a small percentage of the tourists who are daily basking in its fading aura as they queue in their hundreds at the famous revolving cable car turnaround near Ghirardelli Square, just a few hundred meters up the hill from where I am now standing.

The Swim With The Centurions, also known as "The Alcatraz 100"  takes its inspiration from a group of swimmers who were amongst the first to have swum from Alcatraz back to the city over 100 times. As an official event, this swim was inaugurated in 2001 when a number of them who actually kept count had reached that milestone, becoming self-proclaimed "Centurions" in the process. Amongst that group was Pedro Ordenes, who seems to be the big toe of this event. If you get involved with this swim, you will certainly come across this guy, affectionately known as "Coach Pedro" amongst the locals. Coach Pedro, who has now completed over 500 Alcatraz crossings, has an impressive open water swimming portfolio, particularly in much colder locations than these seemingly frigid-enough waters of San Francisco Bay. Much colder locations? We are talking about places like Tierra del Fuego,  the Bering Strait and the Straits Of Magellan. His swimming record is a study in cryogenics, and it serves him well as a local mentor, for water temperature is key issue surrounding this swim. Over 75% of today's swimmers will wear wetsuits. When I packed my bags for this trip, I had to decide whether or not to take my wetsuit along. At that stage, it all depended upon what today's water temps were projected to be. On that day, just two weeks prior to this race, the water at Alcatraz was 11C.  The wetsuit was going along. My wetsuit had never seemed large, but it suddenly became enormous when it had to compete for precious space amongst the 'normal things' within my travel bag. In the end, I wedged it into my day pack and carried it on.  

Two weeks later and here I am on July 26 - race day. The suns rays have not yet touched the registration area. Coach Pedro is going through his pre-race monologue, holding up a whiteboard chart of the course while swimmers wedge and squeeze themselves into their wetsuits and choke down bananas and sports gels. There is black neoprene with fluoro highlights all around me, and on me: I decided last night to wear my wetsuit. The water temp today is 15C. Memories of Mona Vale 2007 remind me that, with a thick swim cap, I can survive a race in water that cold. This event, however, has a unique twist which can make the cold water even colder. The race begins with a cold-turkey baptismal plunge into the bay from the deck of a ferry. No acclimatisation possible. Should the water be a bit colder than you prefer, it's a cruel way to find out. Until the moment of the plunge, there is no way for any ordinary swimmer to know what the water temperature really is. Skinny bodies feel the cold. Besides, a certain skinny body is taking pictures today and wants to dawdle along. Mrs Sparkle often reminds me that dawdling along and generating body heat do not go hand in hand.  

I have never had a reason to perfect the art of wetsuit donning and this morning I am being exposed as an impostor amongst the wetsuit brotherhood. I am surrounded by robotic triathletes who probably go through this rigorous drill at their every event and I am amazed at their skills. Before I know it, we are singing the national anthem. I am still defiantly doing the wetsuit wriggle while flag-gazing people all around me are standing pillar-like with hands on hearts, including my own mother who still has her hand on her heart while she assists me with my wetsuit.

The struggle ends and the zipper is up. The swimmers have already begun to make the journey on foot from Aquatic Park to the ferry wharf. I grab my goggles and swim cap and rush to catch up with the rubbery peloton of barefooted frogmen and frogwomen. We make our way down Jefferson Street, past the Hyde Street Pier and along Fisherman's Wharf. All along the way, we are walking directly into the warm summer sun in totally sealed wetsuits, many with caps already on. In a matter of hours this area will be swollen with its normal summer horde of people, cable cars, tourbuses and buskers. But now, it is the stillness of daybreak which ushers our parade through as we cast long shadows over the empty streets of cobblestone which still double as tramlines, passing by famous and not-so-famous restaurants that I remember well from previous plain-clothed visits to this place. Then, I certainly would never have dreamed of coming here as a swimmer. The surrealness of this foot passage makes this swim a "must do" for any oceanswimmer who passes through this city.

Within ten minutes the heritage walk is over and we have filed onto the waiting ferry, joined by a few cheerful volunteers who have come along to gather up and carry our white-bagged personal items back from the ferry to Aquatic Park. The ferry churns to life and we are underway. The captain laughingly goes through his pre-trip safety speech, during which he actually informs a boat full of presumably fit-enough swimmers where they can find lifejackets should they need to abandon ship. What a fun way to start things off, voyaging out with a boat full of chirpy swimmers who are past the point of no return. It's slightly reminiscent of the ride over to Coal Point on the Macquarie Star for the swim back across Lake Macquarie. The skies are blue and the water seems clean. All around me are familiar icons, yet I feel as if I am seeing them for the first time. The triangular apex of the Transamerica Tower. The Golden Gate Bridge. The Bay Bridge, which connects San Francisco to Oakland. Finally, Alcatraz Island.

Once the ferry slows down, the mood changes. Fidgety swimmers nervously make their pre-departure checks. The savvy ones have already piled up against the designated escape hatch. They know that we will only be allowed to escape out of one side the boat, using a hatchway only wide enough to disembark three at a time. The ones who really want to win or achieve a good placing have to be very certain that they are amongst the very first out the door. It is all too easy to pick them out.

The boat finishes manoeuvring and collapses into neutral. The hatch flies open. Amid screams and yells, bodies start to hit the water en masse, in groups of three. We are told to immediately swim away from the boat in order to clear the way for successive swimmers to jump in. For the duration of the mass plunge, the boat must remain in neutral, consequently drifting along at the mercy of the tide until the last lemming has leapt. Because of today's local eddying, an outgoing tide is actually pushing the ferry into the bay, further from the finish. Every race presents such tidal anomalies. Today, the longer a swimmer waits to jump, the farther will be the distance to be swum. The swimmers are jumping into the water as fast as the gatekeeping crew will allow them to - three at a time are jumping off every five seconds or so. With nearly 250 to go, the last will hit the water a fair while after the first, and face a potentially longer race. This swim is inexact in many such ways, but such a grandiose setting makes it seem secondary to even record a time. The sight of the swimmers plunging in three at a time, with Alcatraz right behind them, is unforgettable, especially when seen from the water - another reason to consider this a "must do" event.

At the outset of this swim, it is virtually impossible to see the finish. Coach Pedro had advised us to swim in the direction of the Fontana Towers, a twin pair of multi-story buildings rising up from the cityscape directly behind Aquatic Park. From Alcatraz, they combine to present the perfect landmark to properly lure in the swimmers. Once the swim is underway, I soon come to appreciate the setting. Dawdling is winning the day. To do this swim competitively, with head down, on the first go would be such a letdown. Swimmers dot the channel, all of them being acted upon by the outgoing tide. Like an Alcatraz escapee, I am being pushed out towards the Golden Gate as I swim. So as not to overshoot the entrance through the breakwater, I find that I have to skew my course a bit upstream of Aquatic Park. As I stop to take photos, I can really feel the seaward push. Transits are changing all the time, and the Golden Gate seems to beckon. The commotion of the city is now only 1 km away but it seems so quiet out here, such a short distance away.

I arrive at the entrance through the breakwater. Fontana Towers? Oh, yes; now, I can finally see them. If I ever do this swim again I will carry so much experience with me. Sighting these towers before jumping into the water is indeed sound advice to be heeded. I swim in through the open arms of the breakwater and escape the pull of the tidal raceway. Ahead, I see the prominent sign which denotes the location of Ghirardelli Square. In my line of sight, it hovers directly above race finishing area at the Aquatic Park Bleachers. Like a pot of chocolate at the end of the rainbow - or something even better. Closer and closer comes the big sign and the finish finally comes with it as I finally make land. My sister, who will be joining me the next time I do this swim, is there to greet me. What a great place to come ashore. Aquatic Park, though right near the heart of tourist central, is nicely removed from the associated chaos. So close to the centre of the hive, yet in Aquatic Park we seem cocooned.

After being de-chipped, I head for the finishing area to discover a curiously different type of post-race smorgasbord. Orange slices? Nowhere to be found. Fruit of any description? Nope. Sitting on the would-be fruit table, instead, are gigantic simmering pots full of clam chowder - of both the Boston and the Manhattan varieties - gratis! Clam chowder, gratis? This is a miracle. When I first see the rising steam I cannot believe it, but when I catch the first whiff it was all over. I beat my own shadow to bowl after bowl. What a fitting way to wind up a chilly swim. I thought only Harris Farm-sponsored events had this much class. Clam chowder is a bit of a San Francisco tradition, especially down here on the waterfront. The rotund tourist will know it best by the act of eating a huge serve of it and then following on with the sourdough bread bowl it arrived in. That was me during my last session there in 1990. I have come here, it seems, to do it all again. I am a repeat offender who has just escaped from Alcatraz. It all makes sense.