Swimming, fog, rescue

The season had reached the most awaited moment: the 10 km race. It was the big goal of the year, the culmination of months of preparation, not only for me, but also for many of those who were present. However, the fog did not let up and the race ended up being cancelled. The disappointment was enormous. I still felt the sadness and frustration of not being able to complete this challenge, but I decided to focus on the 5 km race, scheduled for the following day.

Uncertainty, however, continued to loom. I woke up to fog, and when I got to the beach, a fog persisted. Still, I was optimistic that the test would happen. After a season full of competitions and already having a 5km race on the river under my belt, I was ready to do my best. My goal was to achieve a good time, but also to enjoy it as much as possible, especially as it was one of the last races of the year.

When checking in for the race, we could see the fog in the distance, but the signal buoys were still visible, which reinforced my optimism. There was a slight delay in the departure, but nothing out of the ordinary, and the relief was palpable among everyone present: the race was really going to take place!

The match was made separately by gender, with men starting two minutes earlier. This format is my favorite because, although I can't keep up with the faster swimmers, having swimmers to pass throughout the race gives me extra motivation and energy.

As soon as I started, I felt great (all the nutrition and hydration I had done in the last few days for the 10 km were paying off). I tried my best to swim towards the first buoy, following a diagonal, because the current was on my right side (going tide). I wanted to avoid starting badly and, at that moment, I was among the swimmers furthest to the left. I was not alone, as there were others with the same strategy.

After turning on the first buoy, I stopped worrying about the currents. The swimmers started to disperse and I tried to follow one of them, but I realized she was too strong. So I kept my own pace. Shortly afterwards, I started to catch up with the slower swimmers, who had started two minutes earlier. That was all the motivation I needed to maintain a high pace—until I started hearing whistles.

I raised my head and realized that the fog was thickening around me. It was then that I heard a swimmer I knew shout: “Joana, it’s cancelled!”. I didn't want to believe it. Disappointment and sadness were my first feelings, as I was feeling good and happy swimming. I took a few more strokes, because I still saw people continuing, but the fog became even denser, and the sound of whistles made everyone stop.

The organization asked swimmers to group together and started putting them in boats, but there wasn't room for everyone. I immediately decided to stay in the water, giving priority to swimmers with more difficulties, and only leaving when there was room for everyone in the boats.

While we waited for more support, we agreed, among those who remained in the water, to swim at a slow pace to warm up, accompanied by the boats and jet skis that were already full of swimmers. I never felt in danger, nor did I feel that others were in danger. The fog was so thick — to the point where we couldn't identify the coast, except, occasionally, for the sound of the train passing by — that even boats and jet skis, without GPS, were as limited as we were.

After a few minutes, the maritime police arrived, along with more support boats, to rescue the remaining swimmers. When I got into one of the boats, we started the journey back to the goal. Despite what had happened, all the swimmers were in good spirits, joking and smiling. The trip was peaceful, and there was confidence that everyone had been rescued, something that was quickly confirmed.

Despite the unexpected outcome, this episode highlighted the strength of the open water community. It was a moment that highlighted the importance of teamwork, safety and mutual support. Although the race didn't come to an end, it was clear that our passion for swimming is greater than any obstacle, even relentless fog.