The Great Sierra Mine: A Ghost Town in Yosemite's High Country

In 1859, George W. "Doc" Chase, a wayward dentist from Mariposa, arrived from the diggins in the Eastern Sierras, looking for a rich vein of silver. Making his way at high altitude, he followed a rugged trail along the high ridges of the Yosemite's high country, admired the icy silver waters of Ellery Lake, and scrambled his way up a crest near the western end of Tioga Lake.

There, he pulled his pick and shovel from his rucksack and worked at it, finding a promising lode. The next year he returned, dug some more and scratched a message in a tin can with the finest results of his excavations. He left it under a rock. That was as much as Chase did to stake his claim to The Sheepherder. His life went on and the can got all rusty.

For more than a decade, the tin can lay at the foot of Gaylor Peak where it had been placed and forgotten. In 1874, a young sheepherder going by the name of William Brusky stumbled about Chase's flattened can, his pick and his shovel. He unearthed a promising vein of silver. Word got around.

The Tioga Pass mining fever was born and that's how Tioga Pass, the eastern entrance to the Yosemite National Park, got its name from a mine. The Tioga Mine was a full-flown mining town, complete with an assay office, blacksmith shop, storehouse, boarding houses, workshops and cabins.

Though we did not push to the Tioga Mine, last week we took a trip back in time by hiking up to Gaylor Lakes from Tioga Pass and going to the remains of the Great Sierra Mine.

The trail starts right at the Tioga Pass at the elevation of 9,800', next to the rangers' kiosk. No sooner had we parked at the tiny lot that we realized our backpack full of food for the day was back at the Tuolumne Meadows campground! I drove fast and came back with our lunch and snacks, glad that a bear hadn't found it before me. The hike could start.

Having walked this path five years ago, we knew that the hardest part would be to get our girls over the hill. Gaylor Lakes trail starts with a steep 600' elevation gain over half a mile and from the ridge, is a breeze down to the lower lake where we planned to have lunch.

Lower Gaylor Lake is a stunning sierra lake, stretching along the plateau like a never-ending pool whose southern edge drops in the valley with  alpine peaks in the distance. It is simply gorgeous and the clear waters are a call to swim. However our goal was much higher that day so I waited. 

Refueled, we followed the lake's edges to walk up the feeder creek to its snowmelt source, Upper Gaylor Lake. Mosquitoes were few and far between at the windy top but very hungry closer to the bottom so we hastened our pace to reach the second lake.

Two families were picknicking at the lake - an unthinkable crowd by High Sierras standards - so rather than stopping for a break we just went on. We could already see the stone cabin that marks the ridge and the first of a few scattered buildings of the great Sierra Mine.

Finally we reached the top just below 11,000' and enjoyed the views before going "mine-hunting." The walls of the ridge cabin still stand pretty tall, showing the fireplace without any doubt but the wood and stone roof has collapsed, leaving a hazardous timber chaos inside the walls.

Our girls had fun waving at us from the window opening that still has a wooden frame but the novelty quickly wore off and we went away to explore the mountainsides.

Interestingly the trail we followed is called at Gaylor Lakes Trail but it goes all the way up to the mine at the place that seems to be called Tioga Hill. After the mine, no more trail. It's easy to get lost in this highly mineral world where to the non-geologist, rocks mostly look like rocks.

Trees have long disappeared and grasses are the only plants that grow at this altitude. Wildflowers enjoy their four months without snow at their fullest, coloring the rocky soils with vibrant patches of yellows, blues and pinks.

In the middle of all this, we saw a plump shape scamper away from a rock pile nearby. Yellow-bellied marmot! I grabbed my camera and chased the rambunctious rodent that kept escaping my best efforts. Finally I came to a boulder and looked down. The marmot was right below me, half brewing its next move. I was glad when I was able to shoot this close-up portrait.

Coming back to my family, I saw my husband pull back my girls by their pants. They found a mine shaft and were obviously standing too close to the edge. All vertical, these mine shafts were probably entered with a rope system and blown by dynamite.

They are now boarded up but the holes remain, transforming this ridge in a mining Swiss cheese. In the hour we stayed up there I counted four different shafts and we didn't go very far.

As we were about to turn around, my husband remembered we hiked to a third lake five years ago. Our eldest protested but she didn't have much choice so we moved on, now fraying our way on rocky slopes as we went.

Looking at the USGS map for the Tioga Pass Quadrant, I learned the name of that third lake or rather, I learned the name of the two peaks that tower above the snow lakes that melt in the summer. Prospects is marked twice on my map, referring once again to the mining history of the area.

At that point the girls had earned their ice cream back at the Tuolumne meadows store and I wanted to swim so we turned around and walked back. I stripped down to my swimsuit at the base of Upper Gaylor Lake and crossed it with a brisk breast stroke. It's an easy quarter miler whose main challenge lies as the cold water (high 40s?) and the thin air that you get at 10,600'. Next time I won't forget my swimming goggles - I'm not used to covering more than a few yards in breast stroke anymore.

This swimming episode concluded a beautiful hike and we hung out by the edge of the lake, now crowded only by us, until the ice cream call was unberable.

Now, if you want to discover more ghost towns in Northern California, check out Ghost Town Explorers, a well-documented website with photos of remote and not-so-remote ghost towns and a special Eastern Sierras page. And to learn more about the history of Yosemite's high country, check out Gene Rose's book "Yosemite's Tioga Country", a must-have for Yosemite lovers. I pulled out my historical information from that book, recommended by a ranger on our last visit.

Details of the hike: 4.5-5 miles. Elev. gain: 1,200'. Map: see below.

Escape from the Rock 2010: from Alcatraz with love - and a wetsuit

In the wee hours of Father's Day 2010, I was not home fixing coffee, wearing an apron and slippers, rollers in my hair. I'd been up since 4.37am - but really it felt like I'd been up all night - waiting for the signal to jump off a ferry at Alcatraz with hundreds of other swimmers.

After my attempt at escaping from Alcatraz last year (with goggles full of water and overtime, here's the story), I was eager to try it again. For the adrenaline kick, for the thrill. Also to know if I could do better. So there I was at it again, Alcatraz XXX Escape from the Rock 2010.

Going to the opera the night before was probably not the best idea swim-wise. Wagner's Valkyrie is beautiful beyond words but it is also wagnerian-long as in 4 hours and 40 minutes long. So in bed by 1am, up at 4.37am, the night was short. I met my swim buddy Becky at her house at 5.30am and her husband dropped us off at Aquatic Park shortly after.

Registration took place at the Maritime Museum from 5.10 to 6.10am. They crossed my name off a list and I received an ankle bracelet, a yellow swim cap and a plastic bag for my belongings.

Since I knew the drill from the previous year, anticipation overcame apprehension in my head. Shockingly, I'd rather have it that way than feeling I'm going to the slaughterhouse. I casually walked to the west end of Aquatic Park in my flip-flops, waited in the "Swim only" designated area on the dew-covered grass, and listened to the opening remarks and with relatively few words on what currents to expect that day.

As we all proceeded from Aquatic Park to the ferry pier, I savored catching tourists in their winter jackets watch us with jaws dropping. Here come the locals in wetsuits and speedos! Once in front of the ferry, I got in line and hopped onboard. 

Last year I climbed to the top level to enjoy the views. I had only my sleeveless wetsuit and to be perfectly honest, it was on the chilly side. This year I wore a surf shirt on top of my sleeveless wetsuit and stayed indoors, thus staying nicely warm until the big jump. I grabbed a spot on the bench by the door that would be facing east for an early exit. I sure didn't want to jump last. The ferry ride was quiet and smooth (check out the suspiciously flat sea behind me on the picture), pleasant even.

Given how crowded it was, people weren't warming up much or anything. Not too much space to move around. Pros were adjusting their sponsored gear and chit-chat fleeted over the humming of the engines.

I guess tides and currents were different this year because rather than circumnavigating Alcatraz Island from west to east to face San Francisco going forward, the ferry stopped on the east side of the island and turned around. I snapped a shot of sunny Alcatraz and marveled at the nice weather.

What would out-of-towners think, no legendary summer fog? Believe me, nice days like that are not the summer norm. Fortunately the water still hovers around the mid-50s, a quick reality check as far as water temps.

All of a sudden, the conversation level hiked up a few notches. People looked jumpy. Most had their goggles tightly adjusted so I hastened to put mine on. Engines off, the ferry sort of floated there and nothing happened. I watched the kayaks paddle around and in front of us. Was it time yet?

When you've been training in the cold San Francisco bay all winter long, when you've attended Swim Art's open water swims after work during the week in the spring, when you've gotten up every weekend all year to come swim before breakfast, you're ready to jump when they tell you to jump. Such was the anticipation that I just needed to jump and get it over with.

I squeezed in the tight line. Feet on the ready, sprinters were eager in front of me. I turned my camera on and got ready to film the jump. That's the short film at the top of this blog post. I heard "Jump and swim!" and then a splash. I jumped. The camera got turned off somehow. I turned it back on once I resurfaced. This is the scene. 

I re-adjusted my goggles (here is Becky adjusting hers). Gosh I love my Aquasphere Vista Lady. They're leak-free, just like it says on the box! I was glad I bought them a month prior to trial run them before Alcatraz though. I pointed the two sighting landmarks to Becky (SS Jeremiah O'Brien and then Ghirardelli Square) and we wished each other good luck. Swim time!

Much to my surprise, I got to the kayak line before the long horn that signaled the official start of the race. No struggle this year? The real struggle came closer to shore and snuck on many swimmers. The first half of the swim was smooth. Hardly any waves, nice temps verging on the warmish side. In my taste, more choppiness would have been more fun but hey, I was making good progress so I was not going to complain that there wasn't enough to fight against.

As last year, I followed Swim Art Leslie Thomas's suggestion to sight for the Jeremiah O'Brien for the first two thirds of the swim, then cut to Aquatic Park. A reader told me he followed the same advice and was glad he did so. The idea is to over-compensate for the westward tide as you near Aquatic Park. Indeed, Alcatraz swims are 1) usually planned to start when the tide is slack (neutral) and 2) timed so you can finish before the slack tide changes to an ebb tide (water going towards Golden Gate). It's very hard to fight against the ebb tide to get into the roughly 500-foot-wide opening of Aquatic Park. On June 19, 2010, the slack tide was announced at 8.35am and by that time, we were all in the water.

So here I was, swimming my way back to San Francisco. However as I got halfway through, I started noticing how much farther west a lot of the swimmers were. Not to worry I thought initially. I kept breaking the non-waves, stroke after stroke, with the occasional mouthful of fishy green salty water for good form. Another sighting check a little bit further. Crapola, I was really way off everybody's course! Though I was still within kayak boundaries, I was a couple hundred yards east of the closest swimmer at least. Had I been too conservative? I changed strategies and shot westward. Time for a reality check!

On this photo by my friend Greg - who's a fantastic swimmer and member of the South End Rowing Club - you see a spread out patch of swimmers west of Aquatic Park. Greg stood on the fishing pier when he took this photo so the swimmers are all already way past the opening. In  real life, that sucks. The swimmers are trying to make it back towards the entrance of Aquatic Park. Becky's husband who was also on the pier described how two thirds of the swimmers missed the opening. Some clung to the concrete pilings of the pier to fight the current and make it to the next piling. Man, these pilings are covered in seaweeds, starfish and whatnot. Other swimmers were swimming against the ebb and going nowhere.

Being way east, I didn't see that crazy scene but did notice that it was challenging to keep a straight course. As I was getting closer, I heard a voice yell at me "Get on the boat! You'll never make it!" I looked around and saw a private rescue boat. They were telling me to get on the boat. Had I been that slow? My heart sank. I so wanted to swim a better time and feared my swim was over but there was no time to argue. Four other people were already on the boat. I climbed the ladder. We fished a couple more and a guy who had been scooped out by a boat from the San Francisco Fire Department climbed onboard too.

It dawned on me that perhaps there was something unusual going on. I scanned the water. So many people past the opening. Jet skis, private boats, the Coast Guard too. The Envirosports guy on the boat was on the radio giving instructions to reposition swimmers because they were not going to make it. By the looks of it, he was right.

Much to my relief, we were allowed to get back into the water east of the Hyde Street Pier and pretty close to the pier so we could cut through the ebb and get inside Aquatic Park. Once inside, it was just a matter of aiming for the big inflatable gate that indicated the end of the swim with an electronic timer on top.

Since I hadn't had to fight too much, I put on my best Raquel Welch smile to get out of the water and even waved to my family - who didn't recognize me because I made it in an unexpected record time for me, 49 minutes. So much for arriving "early"! I had to go around and knock on my husband's shoulder before he realized I was out.

Now I'm left wondering: what would have been my real time without repositioning? I can only imagine over an hour since Becky, who is a faster swimmer than I am, got moved by boat later (she was ahead of me, west of the opening) and finished in 57 minutes. I got lucky that I was in the initial batch of boat pick-ups. Despite the ebb tide detail, I had the best time swimming from Alcatraz. So glad I did it again. Swimming on such a sunny day, wasn't it a dream?

Last detail for aspiring Alcatraz swimmers: I trained all winter and spring in the bay. I only went to the pool once and hated it. For me it was a matter of working on my endurance and it worked. Swimming in the ocean beats any pool any day. Pools can't offer you resistance, waves, or the sardine aftertaste. Not to mention the views. Next on my list: Angel Island - Tiburon.

* Thanks to Greg Kling for letting me use his photos.

Winter swimming in the San Francisco Bay: is it cold?

It never fails. As I get out of the water at Aquatic Park with a swim partner and we cross the sandy beach to reach our flip-flops, a couple of jetlagged tourists having strayed from Fisherman's Wharf walk up to us with a complacent smile and pop the million $ question "Is it cold?"

I wonder, what do they expect? It's 42F outside. They are bundled up in all their fleece layers, arms crossed over their chest to keep warm. We are either in speedos & swim caps or in wetsuits and dripping wet. It can't really be that toasty in the bay now can it? We always chuckle and reply with bravado that "Oh no! It was great." Which doesn't exactly answer the question.

Yes we want to convince that it's great to swim in the bay on a windy January morning but the fact is, you better get your strokes going if you don't want to experiment with hypothermia in salty waters. After I completed my Alcatraz challenge last September, I wondered if I would keep swimming in the bay over the winter.

There were rumors about frigid waters. Seriously. Winter swim events are notoriously for swim nuts. The iconic Polar Bear challenge (see 2008 results here) of the Dolphin Club rewards people who swim at least 40 miles between December 21 and March 21 in the Bay. If you do, you're honored as an official Dolphin Club Polar Bear.

The South End Rowing Club (SERC) Alcatraz Swim on New Year's day (starting the year bright and early before 7.12am) gathers a number of yellow caps in speedos or criss-crossed black swim suits. Oh the joyous sight of them jumping off the Hyde Street Pier wooden railing down below!

Now, I am not (yet) a Dolphin Club or SERC member - although my heart would go to the SERC - but swimming in the San Francisco Bay is sort of addictive. Sure I have the Farmer John wetsuit and wideview mask-goggles and might as well make good use of them. But I also like the feeling as you make your way to the opening of the cove to catch a glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge on your left and Alcatraz on a backdrop of Marin rolling hills across.

I kept swimming through October when the days got shorter but temps were mild, November when autumn settled in and flocks of birds kept diving in the cove because of an exceptional sardine run (tasted fishy too), December when the rain showed up and sea lions playfully joined swimmers, January when the heavy storms made for rougher conditions and sea lions went to Oregon, and February when it's getting warmer and pelicans are the only bystanders with seagulls and fishermen.

It still tastes pretty fishy but at least there's no risk of becoming the target of a steep-dive attack from a hungry bird. March will be the unofficial kickoff for the swim season for Alcatraz contenders. That's when training transitions from the heated swimming pools to the bay.

Two Saturdays ago diehard "crowds" at Aquatic Park were swimming laps along the buoys. That's dedication. If I was swimming laps, I'd much rather do it in a pool. I always go around the cove, sometimes cutting across but always getting to the opening.

Now, to the real question.

How cold is it really in the water?

Turns out, you can find out the water temp the easy way, the digital way or the Michael Phelps way. The easy way: dial 1.866.727.6787, then station code 010 for wind speed and air/water temps at the GG Bridge.

The digital way: check the NOAA web page for the port of San Francisco.

The Michael Phelps way: there is a thermometer in the water hanging from one of the buoys under the ship Balclutha. Just swim to the buoy, poke around in the water and you will find it. I heard it was broken in January. Hopefully it's been repaired since.

Greg and Laura showed me. Greg is a SERC member and knows all the Aquatic Park insider gossip, as in "last week a sea lion tried to bite so-and-so" or "there's this new guy who swims at Pier 7".  Laura is an enthusiastic swimmer who swam with us with Leslie's Swim Art.

Last time we checked the water temp was 51.7F (just under 11C). Yesterday it was 55F (roughly 12.8C). What do you think, is it cold? It's never going to be tropical anyway so why bother asking? Just enjoy the swim. It's quite a thrill.

Escape From The Rock 2009: Veni, Swimmi, Termini!

It didn't really dawn on me that it was perhaps a crazy idea until ... a minute after I jumped off the boat. There I was, in my wetsuit, floating in the low 60s San Francisco Bay waters, east of Alcatraz, with 600 swimmers ahead of me following an ebbing line of kayakers. A big "Warning" sign shouted "Keep off this island" in bold official letters. Now what? I was dumbstruck. It's like I was waiting for an off-screen voice to take control and narrate that "now the last of the swimmers has jumped and the first is already half way through the Bay breaking through the waves..." In a haze, I processed the early morning events, the ferry ride to Alcatraz and figured out the next step. It really helped that it was starting to feel lonely with everybody else way ahead. Time to swim back to shore, time to get cracking!

On Sunday September 13, 2009, a few hundred (600?) people took part in the 29th annual Escape from the Rock Triathlon. This triathlon is known as the poor man's "Escape from Alcatraz" because anybody can sign up (no lottery, no qualifiers) and it's a lot cheaper - with a comparable course. Basically, you start with by crossing the Bay from Alcatraz Island to San Francisco, then you run, then you bike, then you run some more. I only signed up for the swim part and believe me, that was enough to keep me busy all summer. Even after four months of training, I was in no danger of winning. I was just about to fulfil a San Francisco ritual that very few San Franciscans achieve: escape from Alcatraz by way of water. My only concern was being so sluggish that I'd be carried away to Japan by the currents. Well, obviously I made it back to the city of locally-grown whole-grain organic pizza! That, in itself, is a small victory.

The training
I was fortunate to find a swim partner early in my training in my friend Christine. That's her on the lawn at Aquatic Park. She really helped keep the momentum going. Honestly, there's nothing like dragging a good friend in a potentially unpleasant adventure. The two of you can commiserate together. Plus, Christine was a competitive swimmer in her (distant - teenage) past so she was really an asset in the general scheme of things - and a friend, because she signed up without blinking twice. I was the one who needed coaching. Last May, I couldn't swim two 25-yard pool laps freestyle without suffocating.

So together, we attended Swim Art's Wednesday evening open water swims at Treasure Island every other week and met for Sunday morning swims at Aquatic Park. Swim Art is really a whatever-swim-level-friendly support system to Bay Area open water swims, as this article proves. I've seen beginners like myself as happy as advanced swimmers. If you want to swim from Alcatraz or in the Bay and don't know where to start, Leslie and her team are the answer to your dreams.

Plus, swimming at Treasure Island is kind of funky. You navigate your way in a cove between boats, most anchored, some sunken, and you get to see the future Bay Bridge from a rare angle. Aside from the Bay, I followed a pool training too. By myself, I haunted the Brisbane Community Pool twice a week, following Leslie Thomas' 8-week training plan for Alcatraz. As instructed, I printed it and inserted it in a ziploc bag for poolside reference purposes. I only rescued it once from the bottom of the pool when the wind acted up.

For more pizzaz and on two occasions, Christine and I strayed from the usual gig and swam across Tenaya Lake in the Yosemite National Park, and in the Bay from St Francis Yacht Club to Aquatic Park. It was like Star Trek in open waters: to boldly swim where.... It all felt very adventurous to me.

After the summer, not only was I prepared to jump into salty cold water with 1-foot visibility (see murky self-portrait through water for illustration) and aquatic life around, I was asking for more. Fortunately, the race provided a sane reality check on my path to the Olympics.

Race Day
Escape from the Rock is really a race. I'm saying that because I made third worst and because my only goal was to get to the finish line without becoming shark food - although really, man-eating sharks are a myth in the Bay. They're only in this text for cheap thrills. Coming back to the race element, the fastest swimmer completed the 1.5 mile race in a brilliant 28 minutes 37 seconds and I'm in total awe.

On the morning of the race, I got up at 5.30am. We were to meet at the San Francisco Maritime Museum between 6 and 7am to register. My roadie family got up too. They don't like to get up early to freeze their toes off by the beach but they were gracious about it. At Aquatic Park, they dropped me off and I walked into the last of the night to the museum.

The place was buzzing with white lights and people. It felt outlandish. A volunteer asked me to make two fists and scribbled my entrant number in black ink on my hands: 488. I registered and followed the line of people to the far western end of Aquatic Park. By the Dolphin Club, a guy was checking the kayaks. Christine arrived and we sat on the lawn area designated for "Swim Only" participants. At that point, I pretty much felt as casual as if I was going to a party. I sensed no nervousness around me, just anonymous faces looking eager to start.

I fixed the timing chip around my ankle, wondering how it was going to get activated. At last we got going. At 7.15am, we all walked to Pier 39 to board a ferry. Seeing hundreds of swimmers in wetsuits, some half naked some barefeet, around Fisherman's Wharf must have been quite a sight for the tourists. Christine's husband snapped shots of us before we lined up with the "yellow and orange caps." I daresay, the adrenalin was kicking in.

Oh, how calm and tranquil the waters seemed on the ferry ride. Alcatraz, the prison island - the island that was so well protected by its treacherous currents that only one successful inmate escape is recorded. I took a breath. The air was fresh but not cold. The wind picked up slightly. A Yang Ming tanker crossed the Bay in the distance and made big waves.

We circled around Alcatraz and got in position behind the line of kayakers. The boss of Envirosports kept telling the kayakers to move another 50 yards. There, we were good.

The San Francisco Fire Department boat Phoenix shot huge arches of water up in the sky and opened the parade for us. Show time. 1, 2, 3, jump! People started jumping on both sides of the ferry. Yellow caps bobbed up and down the water. Some started head first freestyle in the Bay, others warmed up swimming butterfly. Knowing I'd be amongst the slowest, I waited for everybody to be done so I could jump last. In hindsight, that was a mistake because once you jump, you still have to swim a hundred yards to the kayakers. A strong swimmer will cover the distance in no time and reach the kayaks at the second horn sound. Not sluggish me.

We heard a first long blast off of the ferry horn warning us to get ready, then a second one to signal the real start of the race. I was way behind the kayaks, in front of the big "Warning" sign. For Christine's water camera, I flashed a smile. We parted ways.

The next second I was all by myself. The trouble was, I had just realized that my goggles were leaking. Too loose maybe? I tried to tighten them, to no avail. Why oh why? All summer I'd been fine and today, the goggles were acting like salt water tanks for my eyes. @@##!! Fine, I had no other choice but to swim anyways. Stroke time. Ah, but the currents at Alcatraz kept me at the same spot. It took me forever to leave that island. It's the only moment in the entire race when I really asked myself "Why"?

As I slowly saw Alcatraz grow smaller in my periscope, some swimmers went past me. Every three strokes, I stopped to empty my goggles. It was a royal pain and because I lifted my head so much, my wetsuit was rubbing against my neck harder than usual. Sometimes I pushed it to six strokes but the salt really stung my eyes. The city seemed so far away.

Since there were no buoys to indicate the way but hundreds of yellow caps scattered in the water, I followed Leslie Thomas' advice on sighting: "for the first 2/3 of the way, sight on and aim for the Jeremiah O'Brian Liberty Ship. When about 2/3 of the way across, begin sighting on the Balclutha ship - this is the 3-masted ship docked in Aquatic Park. Follow that the rest of the way, and you will end up exactly at the opening." You see, getting to the opening is the tricky part because of a very strong current right before Aquatic Park. You miss it, you'll have a tough time fighting the tide to get back in. You aim too far, you lose time. Ah, strategy.

Despite my somewhat dampened spirits because of the leakage problem, I was glad to be in the Bay and exchanged greetings with a nearby kayaker. Yes I was doing fine. I was on the right track? Great. Galvanized, I plunged my arm. The deeper waves took me on a roller-coaster for a long time.

Christine told me later that she opted to breathe at the top of every wave. That's an idea not to swallow too much Bay water. Mechanically, I just tried to keep a steady rhythm and wasn't bothered by the choppiness. About half way through I felt some cold spells. My right hand tingled, I wondered if I had crosssed paths with a jellyfish. No, it didn't sting. I took a shot of the Golden Gate Bridge. At long last, the big orange buoy marking the entrance to Aquatic Park got closer and I heard the tell-tale sign of shore getting close: the sea lions barking at Pier 39. Yeepee! Pelicans flew overhead.

I was in! Safe at last. Safe in the sense that now I could not get carried away to Japan by the current. All I had to do was finish and meet my little girls and husband on the beach. I swam twice as hard but by then, I was already wiped out. Forget the stylish Raquel Welch getting-out-of-the-Bay. Forget the clean finish sprint. I was tuckered out.

When I got to shore, I almost stumbled to get to the big electronic clock gate. An hour and 18 minutes. That's how long it took me to swim from Alcatraz to San Francisco. I was 3 minutes overtime compared to the official guidelines. However the reception committee with my family, my friends and my landlord was well worth the effort. I got my fair share of hugs and congratulations.

After I changed and drank a cup of hot tea, I felt like a (tired) million bucks. I'd done it! Now my goal is to do better next year. Alcatraz anyone?