By Braden Keith on SwimSwam
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Editor’s note: American open water swimmer Becca Mann last week became the first swimmer to ever successfully complete the Triple Mau Nui Channel Swim, which took her almost 21 hours and pulled her almost 40 hours between the Hawaiian islands. A week later, Becca has had time to process the achievement, and has put together an introspective of what she went through, why she went through it, and what she learned from her swim.
From the author, Becca Mann: Before I get into the story, I wanted to let my readers know that I decided to share the truth of the whole story. This includes many instances that do not paint me in the best light or represent who I am as a person. After about 10 hours of swimming, my exhaustion led to some uncivil behavior, something that is uncommon for me. I’ll admit that I am spoiled, but I’m generally a kind person (or at least I try to be).
I debated cutting out some of the nastier parts, but ultimately decided that I would rather people heard the raw, uncut truth. I want to inspire aspiring channel swimmers and knew I couldn’t do that if I censored my irrational anger. Swimming for almost 21 hours can bring out the worst in your temperament, and I wouldn’t be doing the swim justice if I said otherwise.
I also would also like to take a moment to thank my crew, who are experts at what they do, as well as extremely supportive and nice people. Since I’ll be writing from the point of view I had during the swim, it probably will not seem that way as it was easy for me to take my frustration out on them.
Without further ado….
I didn’t think it was going to take me 21 hours.
I’ll be honest, I thought I was being generous when I estimated 15-20. In my mind, it was going to take around 14, with sixteen as the maximum.
Lesson #1––never underestimate the ocean.
Let me start from the beginning. Six days before I was to step into the ocean and start swimming for Molokai, I landed in Maui after a 22-hour travel day from Lima. I had informed my parents two months before that I would be taking on this swim and told them I would like for them to be there. They came, constantly reminding me of how I hadn’t even asked if they were free. It was hard to feel bad for them while they were sitting on the beach, though.
The six days were filled with searching for waterproof red LED lights (because apparently any other color attracts the big fish), ropes and containers to use for my feeds (we wouldn’t even end up using the containers), trying to figure out what I was going to be craving 12 hours into the swim (thank goodness I decided to get baby food at the last second) and, after the second day, minimal swimming. Plus my nervous parents making me crazy and several Hawaiian channel swimmers emailing me, telling me I was taking the wrong course. Just another relaxing vacation in Hawaii.
The day before the swim, my parents and I went to meet with the boat captain, Mike, and one of the kayakers, Shelley. They showed us the long shark shockers that dangled off the sides of the kayak and informed us that there is almost always a shark sighting, but these shockers were the best. During one of their recent escorts, two large mahi fish followed right behind the kayak as a shark circled the swimmer, the fish recognizing that they kayak had a forcefield surrounding it. Mike and Shelley then shared stories of how Shelley had to hit sharks with her paddle before they upgraded the shockers. Let’s just this was not the pep talk my parents needed. I didn’t mind––I’ve never been afraid of sharks. I didn’t even know that the kayak was going to have shark shockers.
The night of the start (but not the finish), I slept for nine hours, woke up and ate breakfast, then took an hour-long nap. A typical sleep schedule for me. After my nap, my mom was about to leave for the boat. I stayed behind as we were staying in Kapalua and the swim was to commence at Kapalua Bay Beach, a mere five-minute walk away. I would meet the boat there for a 1 PM start.
My dad was leaving that day to pack my younger sister up for college, so he helped apply around ten layers of zinc oxide (which worked surprisingly well) and a bottle of lanolin for chafing before heading out to the airport. I sat around in my suit and grease for another thirty minutes, then walked down to the beach.
I got several curious stares as I headed toward the bay, clad only in flip flops, an old Speedo LZR, and layer upon layer of sunscreen and lanolin. I could see the questions in their eyes, wondering what on earth had happened to me. I could tell no one knew that the reason for my appearance was yet to happen. That thought alone brought an amused smile to my face as I stared right back.
The boat was about 500 meters out, so Shelley kayaked in to start with me. People on the beach conspicuously stared, and Shelley loudly informed them, “This girl is about to make history and swim from here to Molokai, then to Lanai, and then back to Maui!” She theatrically pointed out the course, all of which was visible, as she spoke. People started taking pictures. I sat down, since the captain wanted to start exactly at 1 PM. I realize now that I never looked at the course with the knowledge that I was about to swim it. I wonder if I would’ve thought it looked long.
Shelley counted down. At “one”, I walked into the water, leaving Maui, and started swimming for the mass of land 16 kilometers away. Molokai. The Pailolo Channel.
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face the first ten minutes as I swam out of the bay. The bay’s protected waters were calm and I kept my stroke long and easy.
Then I swam past the bay’s protected point.
Suddenly, I was being pushed left by 3-5 foot swells (I know this is a broad range, but I’m really bad at guessing wave size). A few waves crashed on me. I started having a panic attack, wondering what I had gotten myself into––I was barely 30 minutes in, and already I was being tossed around by the ocean. And this wasn’t even the hard leg! How was I going to make it? Why had I thought this was a good idea? I wanted to get out.
I reminded myself that I was going to have highs and lows and that everything would pass. It was just one day of my life. I could swim for one day. This time tomorrow, I would be done. I started singing to myself and just kept swimming. I was shocked to find out that I had gone almost 5k in the first hour. I was making good time.
The next hour was hard. The waves were huge, I felt somewhat sick, and I had to force myself to feed (which was every 20 minutes). My mom was seasick and would throw up any time she stood up or looked down. I told myself that I had to power through. It would get easier at some point. It had to. I told myself to just make it to the next feed. I distracted myself by making up a backstory for Kainoa, the kayaker paddling beside me, a complete enigma as I had never met him before he was taking on the swells beside me.
Molokai got bigger, Maui smaller. My spirits lifted. Maybe I could do this––no, I was going to do it. I no longer felt sick and my stroke was strong. I appreciated how beautiful Hawaii is. The water was crystal clear and the mighty mountains of Molokai loomed ever closer. I saw several jellyfish floating in the water peacefully below me (I was probably stung around ten times over the course of the swim, but learned to ignore the stings as they would subside after about ten minutes). These waters of paradise were going to be my home for the next several hours. How amazing was that?
I swam in for a feed around 3 hours in and was told I was on pace to get the Pailolo Channel record. I was reinvigorated; I felt as if I had just jumped in the water. I tried warning myself to conserve, but the prospect of the record was too enticing for my ambition.
Molokai is gorgeously untouched by tourism. I watched colorful fish swim below as I swam the final distance to shore. 5:01 PM. 4 hours, 1 minute. I was pretty sure the record was 3:20, so I’m not sure why I was told I was on pace (I’m still not certain what the record is). I was, however, an hour under my estimated arrival time. I was (not really) ¼ of the way through the swim. I was confident I was going to finish––and in under 15 hours (haha).
I was allowed a maximum of 10 minutes on shore, but I wanted to be off in 8 for peace of mind. I landed with Steve, the third and final kayaker, who had brought my land bag ashore. I spent 5 minutes reapplying lanolin. My left armpit was starting to chafe, so I put a generous glob in there, ate half a slice of bread and two pieces of a sliced apple, changed my goggles to a giant clear pair that had a blinking red LED light laced through the straps (it was two hours prior to sunset), and journeyed on to Lanai.
Channel #2––the Kalohi Channel.
The 8 minute break did not help my arms. My triceps were starting to get sore. Oh well. They just needed to last another ten hours. Whether or not they worked after didn’t matter to me. The waves were in a more comfortable position, no longer interrupting my breathing pattern, though I felt a current pushing me back toward Molokai. After about ten minutes, I became numb to the current as one grows numb from the cold. A sea turtle swam under me as the ocean floor disappeared once more, replaced by depthless cobalt blue.
As the sun began to set, my excitement rose. I had never been ocean swimming at night before and was really looking forward to the experience. I was not let down. The setting sun dyed the sky a beautiful orange. The water darkened to indigo, then black. However, I could still see my hands––tens of dots of gold, phosphorescent light would spark to life with every stroke I took.
I did some backstroke and suddenly stopped swimming. What looked like every star in the galaxy illuminated the sky. I’ve only seen stars as bright once before, in the Serengeti 11 years ago. The only reason I remember is because it’s impossible to forget. As I floated on my back, I felt like I could reach up and touch them.
“This is incredible!” I said to my mom as she threw me the next feed. My mom was still throwing up, unfortunately, and didn’t get to enjoy them as much as I did.
The next two hours passed peacefully enough. I was throwing up the bread and apple slices, so I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to stomach solid food during the rest of the journey. I enjoyed the high of swimming beneath the canopy of stars, acknowledging that this peace wouldn’t last long, yet relishing it all the same. While I could. The moonrise over Maui was spectacular (though I was sad to see the stars go), and I continued on my quest.
Steve told me I just had to hang on for another 2 hours, which was around when I would reach the protected waters between Lanai and Maui. I could do that. I just had two more hours of fighting the invisible current and the waves crashing on my back. 2 hours of hard work, then just a 25k through the glassy, stagnant ocean. Easy.
Lanai was a dark blob to the right, Maui a dark blob to the left. Sometime around this point, my nostrils swelled together, rendering my nose useless (not that it was vital to my success). At one of the feeds, I asked if I was over halfway to Lanai. I had been waiting to ask because I wanted them to inform me that I was well over halfway.
They told me I would be halfway in 3 kilometers.
I was slightly taken aback but kept swimming.
The monster is about to emerge (warning, your opinion of me may forever change. Proceed with caution), so I’m going to take a quick break to talk about my feeding plan while everyone mentally prepares. I fed every 20 minutes throughout the entire 21 hours, with the exception of one delayed feed in the middle (which made me extremely angry. I’m not sure what happened there, but they got an earful from me). I told my dear mother to put me on a rotation of cytomax (USA Swimming had given me a big container of it after Pan Ams), a Gatorade with an energy gel dissolved in it, and then one of those high calorie weight gain things called Ensure, paired with either a Gatorade or a cytomax. Beth Mann rarely had the right thing out. She claims that nausea and throwing up over the side of the boat is distracting, but I say no excuses. Occasionally the feeds would be accompanied by some mouthwash. For the first 5 or 6 hours, I would only drink about half the feed, but after that I consumed everything that was thrown out to me (though I often wouldn’t want to feed because I felt too sick. However, I knew that all feeds were vital to the success of the swim). My stomach is not the strongest and I would usually throw a bit of it up after each feed.
Around this point in the race, my mom tried giving me solid food. After telling her it wasn’t going to happen, she started throwing me the baby food I had spontaneously bought at the end of one of our many shopping sprees. Those came out with every gatorade and cytomax.
Okay, I’m ready to continue. I swam through another six or seven feeds, figuring I must be around a 5k away from Lanai, though it looked no closer. Nope. I was still 11.2 kilometers out. I had been swimming Channel #2 for almost 6 hours and was barely over halfway! My sudden mood swing was severe. I had gone 4 kilometers in 2 hours.
I came in for my next feed and asked them how far Lanai was. “10.7 kilometers!” someone called from the boat.
“You mean,” I yelled, “I’ve gone FIVE HUNDRED METERS in 20 MINUTES?!”
“You’re doing great!” a response was shouted back.
“It certainly doesn’t seem that way! You told me I’d be at the easy part hours ago!” I looked up at my mom, who looked miserable in her parka, and asked her for a pep talk. She was still extremely seasick and didn’t reply––just threw me some baby food.
“At this rate, it’s going to take me SEVEN hours to swim this 10k! I’m not going that slow. I’m doing my job, so do yours and get me on a better course!”
I swam away so I could get the last word. Ha, I showed them! I told myself I wasn’t allowed to have a mental breakdown until I got to hour 12. I was at hour 10. I had to keep it together for another 2 hours. If it took me 3 days to get back to Maui, it would take me 3 days. I just had to keep inching forward.
My armpit was chafing again, so I asked for lanolin. My mom just threw it out and made me take off the plastic wrapper on my own (which I am obviously not still bitter about. I had no sympathy for her seasickness).
I passed the time by thinking about how accomplished I would feel when I was done. I thought of all the cool stories I would have. I was going to be the first person to conquer this swim! I composed some tweets. I tried to think of some movie ideas but wasn’t feeling very creative. I tried not to think about how much my elbows hurt. With every left breath, I would see Maui. Every right breath, Lanai. We were still veering left.
Midnight. Still only going 500 meters per 20 minutes. My anger exploded again as I drank a feed and was informed that I still had 7.8k to Lanai.
“Why are we swimming toward Maui? You know we’re going to Lanai, right?”
“We’re on a direct course to Club Lanai.”
“When are we going to be at the easy part?”
“There’s no way to tell.”
“You don’t know?! What happened to swimming in the middle to avoid the currents? We’re obviously not doing that! I want to go to LANAI!”
I put my head back down. The boat responded by pulling ahead about 100 meters (as it had been doing the entire swim. Often, the waves would swallow it and I would have to stop for several seconds to find it), still veering left. I stopped again, and said to Kainoa, who was kayaking next to me, “I’m not going that way.”
“There’s a reef that the boat is avoiding.”
“In the middle of the ocean?”
“By Lanai. You’re doing awesome, Becca! Just keep––“
I put my head back down, mentally deleted the backstory I had made for him, and envisioned all the different ways I could tip the kayak over.
Yeah, I know. I apologized later.
I had never been so angry in my entire life as I was then (spoiler alert: that record was going to be broken soon). Exhaustion has a way of doing that, I guess. I allowed myself to cry angry tears into my goggles, but only for five minutes because I had more important things to do and crying wasn’t going to help.
I stopped veering left and started aiming for Lanai. Kainoa kept paddling beside me. The boat lights grew smaller as I paved my own path. Just a blinking red light in the middle of an ocean of darkness.
The boat eventually came back to me. When I asked how far I had gone, the answer was 1.2 kilometers. I’ll be honest, I cried tears of happiness. We were finally out of the hard part.
The last 5k to Lanai seemed to pass in a few minutes. I was calm and happy once more. Only 20k left. Less than the longest event at World Championships. In five hours, I could climb into my bed and lie motionless for as long as I wanted. Five hours was nothing. My body was really starting to hurt, but I ignored it.
A blinking strobe light had been set on the demolished pier at Club Lanai so we could see where to land. The boat could see it from 5k away, though I couldn’t see it over the waves until I was basically on top of it.
1000 meters out from Lanai, I told my sick mom to put a new suit, lanolin, Vaseline, and energy chews in the land bag. The Vaseline was inside the room on the boat, and if my mom stood, she would throw up. The others
