Stephen Redmond has one goal: to be the first swimmer to cross the Ocean’s Seven channels and straits. With three down, four to go, we headed for the California coast near Los Angeles for what turned out to be the toughest swim of his life.
Nothing is going according to plan. It is 5.57am on the frosty morning of October 20, 2011, and a vile retching can suddenly be heard bellowing out from the starboard side of our boat – a sound not unlike the primal scream a gutted hyena might make. It is a howl that summons all, from the insides of the boat to the railing. From a distance of about 40m away in the pitch-black night, you can see open-water swimmer Stephen Redmond projectile vomiting like a hosepipe on full blast. It is a nasty sight: his jaw unlocks violently like a transforming werewolf from a 1980s horror film.
This is not really what you want happening only four hours into an expected 13-hour swim. Alongside Redmond, seasoned marathon swimmer and official observer Forrest Davis lies flat on a paddleboard whispering words of encouragement, trying to steer Redmond back in motion.
After two minutes, Redmond has collected himself. Without a word, he again begins his breaststroke, slowly, methodically, relentlessly moving – the steady slap of his massive arms smacking against the water, sloshing ever forward. Off in the distance, Los Angeles isn’t a line or bright light, but rather a faint glow of a city shining up into the cloud cover from the black nothing of the sea. The City of Angels looks far away.
Half an hour later, light has broken over the horizon and the sky is an inclement, soft blue-gray. The skipper, Greg Elliot, emerges from the bowels of his boat with a sack of plaid bagpipes wrapped around his body and ascends to the bridge overlooking the wide deck of his 63ft vessel, the Bottom Scratcher. It’s a tradition: every sunrise, Elliot rises to the top of the 42-year-old, purpose-built diving boat and plays the bagpipes to welcome the morning and help motivate his crew.
Elliot’s appearance is somewhere between Blue from US comedy movie Old School and the weathered sea captain from The Simpsons – in other words, he’s exactly what you’d expect from someone who’s dedicated his life to taking on the salty seas.
As he starts playing, the melancholy tones ring out over the water to the lone swimming figure. The skipper may have hoped for the desired effect of welcoming the morning and infusing his swimmer with a regained fortitude, but the results are decidedly different.
Read the full story in January's issue of The Red Bulletin.
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