The Epic Swim

Epic Swim was my idea while I was still working elsewhere.

After many years competing in swimming and triathlon, with over 200 open-water races and triathlons under my belt, I suddenly found myself without any challenges. Whenever I feel stuck, I start thinking about doing something new. My mother used to joke that I must have caught her “restless bug,” as I can’t seem to sit still.

The other company where I worked, based up north, had little interest in the land of Al-Gharb, or perhaps it was just too busy with other things. So, with the idea of creating content and simply exercising, I decided to invite two friends to swim a 5 km route between Barranco Beach and Martinhal Beach. Together, we ended up setting a new milestone for ideas, and by 2024, this event had already held its third edition.

Sjoerd D., André C., and I left home that morning knowing there was a hurricane or storm warning (Bernard) approaching, with SW waves between 4 to 6 metres and intervals of 22 seconds. When we arrived, there was a huge downpour—one of those typical Algarvian rains.
It rarely rains much here, but when it does, it comes in quick bursts, or “esgarrões,” lasting no more than half an hour.
— “It’ll clear up in a bit,” we thought. And sure enough, after 10 minutes… boom, bright sunshine. After all, it’s still the Algarve, and even at the end of October, the water was 19 degrees, and we had lovely sun.

Entering the water was feasible since we started at a beach facing southeast, but… the 16-second wave intervals were already noticeable. A family member was set to support us in a kayak, but right from the start, we realised there would be issues. The sit-on-top kayak was taking on water due to a crack that had been poorly repaired, so it had to return to shore. André volunteered to take it and its driver back, leaving Sjoerd and me in the water, between 30-metre cliffs with swells that limited any emergency exit options, and beaches 3 km away in either direction.

The water was crystal clear, despite the typical deep emerald green of the area. We saw plenty of fish, but nothing unusual for this region, which is generally rich in marine life.

Si

nce the goal was to create content, I had a GoPro in hand. A large bird flew by. “Look, a gannet, but it’s brown… must be a juvenile.” We’d already seen some cormorants, but this was the first gannet. Then it decided to attack my swimming partner—pecking at his goggles! He was wearing red Zone3 goggles, which must have looked like a sardine or something tasty.

From there to the islets… of course, we had to swim to the islets. We didn’t stop much on the way because swimming against the waves meant losing 10 to 20 metres for every minute of rest. Yes, it was exhausting.

I also had a chance to try out those Swim Run fins (since it seems my adventure buddy enjoys such gadgets), but I didn’t like them much. I felt like they were forcing my head underwater, and as a trained swimmer, I don’t need such tricks.

Along the way, we had brief stops to eat and drink some isotonic fluids, but there wasn’t much chatting. Due to the high wave intervals, I decided not to swim close to the rock walls. It would’ve been more fun but far less safe. Even so, it turned out to be an excellent decision.

When we reached the Martinhal islets, Sjoerd said in his semi-Dutch accent, “This is very beautiful.” Trust me, a Dutchman doesn’t beat around the bush. If he likes something, he truly means it.

I was not at my peak fitness level, and to keep up with Sjoerd (since it’s always a competition when it’s two guys… ALWAYS), I really had to push myself. In the end, Sjoerd slowed down a bit due to his less efficient swimming style, allowing me to follow suit.

When we finally reached the shore, after admiring the islets, we said, “Shame about the waves… next year, we’ll do it again!”