Ok, folks, now pay attention, says Kim Hooper, addressing the twenty-or-so swimmers gathered in front of a large hand-painted map of the San Francisco Bay. A few people in the group look distinctly nervous.
By Scott Hargis
Published: October, 2006
Hooper, an athletic, graying man with a mock seriousness about him, explains the details of the swim about to take place, frequently referencing the map. The map’s focal point is the stretch of shoreline from the Bay Bridge to the Golden Gate, and includes Alcatraz, Angel Island, and Southern Marin County. He emphasizes the importance of making a crucial turn to avoid the strong currents sweeping past Alcatraz.
A woman raises her hand. Where do you end up if you get caught in [that current]? she asks.
Hooper, an athletic, graying man with a mock seriousness about him, explains the details of the swim about to take place, frequently referencing the map. The map’s focal point is the stretch of shoreline from the Bay Bridge to the Golden Gate, and includes Alcatraz, Angel Island, and Southern Marin County. He emphasizes the importance of making a crucial turn to avoid the strong currents sweeping past Alcatraz.
A woman raises her hand. Where do you end up if you get caught in [that current]? she asks.
Hooper pauses, which means he is planting his tongue firmly in his cheek. We don’t know, he says, his eyes clear and his face straight. We never see them again.
This is the South End Rowing Club (www.south-end.org), or South-Enders, a San Francisco institution with 130 years of rowing, swimming and, unaccountably, handball behind it.
Many members are referred to by nickname (Kim Hooper, goes by ‘Johnny Diesel’), and club officers sometimes can’t come up with a member’s real name.
Occupying a stunning two-story clubhouse on Aquatic Park, the South-Enders can trace their origins to the 19th Century, when pilots were ferried out to ships entering San Francisco Bay by rowboat. The pilot who reached the approaching ship first got the job. From these organized crews the rowing clubs were born; they also participated in transporting shanghaied sailors from the waterfront dives to the outbound ships.
From these dubious beginnings, the South End Rowing Club, the oldest sporting club on the West Coast, has blossomed into its current state, with 830 members, an impressive collection of period rowboats, and possibly the hardiest swimmers to be found anywhere.
The water temperature is about 55 degrees. A few of the more inexperienced swimmers are wearing thin wet suits; none of the veterans do.
How do they withstand the cold? Body fat, says Jonathan Paul (J.P.), who has swum the English Channel and is one of the club’s strongest swimmers. You can’t be afraid to put on a few pounds, he continues, for insulation.
Hooper, equally direct, after telling him my height and weight over the phone (I’m tall and thin), flatly stated, You can’t swim in the bay. Strictly speaking, this may not be entirely true, because swimmers on this particular morning were of many body types, a good assortment of ages, experience, and athleticism. Still, the star swimmers, of which the club boasts many, aren’t cut in the classic athletic mold of Michael Jordan or Lance Armstrong.
As the swimmers begin jumping from the Phoenix fireboat near the Ferry Building, a small flotilla of wooden rowboats and motorized zodiacs surrounded and shepherd them as they begin stroking north. They rounded North Beach. They passed Coit Tower and Pier 39. The rowboats and zodiacs kept in touch by radio, advising one another of potential hazards and watching out for passing motorboats.
Photo-Matt, one of the pilots, spotted a couple of swimmers who were angling too far off the line; he radioed to the nearest rowboat. You’ve got two swimmers behind you that need to come back in this way, he said, and the reply came back: Got it, they’re turning in now.
The swimmers were going with the tide the entire distance, from the Embarcadero to Aquatic Park (the race ends at the clubhouse); so, it takes the fastest swimmers about 45-minutes. Other races are much longer. Sometimes we swim from the clubhouse all the way across to Tiburon, said J.P. We climb out of the water onto the pier and have lunch at Sam’s Anchor Cafe.
South End swimmers have swum from the Farallones to the Bay, the English Channel, and each year the club sends at least one team to the Trans-Tahoe Relay, a true cold-water endurance test.
Shorter swims are more common. A small, informal group that calls itself the Sun-Risers meets at 6AM once-a-week to swim in Aquatic Park, where they often find themselves in the water with sea lions and waterfowl.
As the racers enter Aquatic Park, club members who have remained behind cheer them in. This is a casual, in-house race, so little fanfare is necessary. The results are recorded, but it doesn’t seem very competitive. As the swimmers walk up on the beach, they check in with a race official, and then hurry off to showers and saunas.
Meanwhile, in the clubhouse, El Sharko is preparing breakfast. There are longtime club members who do not know El Sharko’s real name (Chris Blakeslee) – the moniker is the only name they use. I ask what he’s cooking.
Hangtown Fries, he says. This turns out to be a baked mixture of eggs, oysters, and bacon.
Hangtown Fries? I ask, my curiosity piqued.
El Sharko explained, Back in the days of public executions, condemned prisoners were granted a last meal of their choice. Eggs and oysters were hard to get back then, so they’d always ask for this. It took the prison a couple of days to get the ingredients, which delayed the execution.
Nice, I mumble, although I have to admit the meal was excellent; and the dining room was full of swimmers, all who have an evident gleam in their eyes for eggs and oysters. Swimming in 55-degree water will give you an appetite.
Towards the end of the meal, Hooper rises to begin the awards ceremony.
Fastest times are announced, and a few gag trophies are handed out. The swimmer who was in the water longest receives a can of tuna and a round of applause. Every announcement is greeted with good-natured jokes and ribbing.
Even before breakfast was served, the rowers had carefully washed and swabbed out the boats. These are beautiful, carefully maintained wooden rowboats, some of them dating back to the early 1900s, all of them lovingly restored by club members in the club’s extensive workshop. A group meets on Thursday nights to repair and refurbish the boats. In addition to acting as tenders for swimmers, the rowing contingent of South End participates in its own races and sometimes takes long, multi-day cruises up the Delta.
In July, the club hosts its annual Alcatraz Invitational swim, a one-and-a-quarter mile race from Alcatraz, which is open to the public. This year, international swimming celebrity Alison Streeter participated, a woman who has swam the 21-mile English Channel a record-holding 43 times. What’s tougher than the English Channel? Try the Irish Channel, which is colder, rougher, and has faster currents. Only nine swimmers have ever made it; Streeter has done it twice, once in each direction.
Whether it’s an Olympic-level swimming challenge, a day of leisurely kayaking on the bay, or just the camaraderie of the clubhouse, the South End Rowing Club is the place to be, at least for those people who are, at least, stronger than the currents and cold.
