Blog – Page 2

Ile Ronde Circumnavigation

August 11, 2016 By Charlotte Brynn

High clouds overhead, and a northerly wind. This has the makings of a spirited swim.

We load Django, with all our gear, one big bin chocked full of feeds, a dry bag of warm clothes, and some extra company. Phil White,is my captain and observer, Cynthia Needham,is crew captain, and then there is Skinner! Skinner, you might ask? Yes, Uriah Skinner,the half size skeleton, we got for grins, to join us, for our recent Skinner Island, 2 way crossing. He has become quite a part of the team, since his rescue from smugglers cave, on Skinner Island.

Time to “walk the boat ramp”, I think,as I gaze down the lake. I can just make out Ile Ronde,a small, speck in the distance, 8. 2 miles away,and just waiting to be conquered. ” I’m coming for you round island”, I firmly, declare.
The boat ramp is slick, I slither into the water, game on.

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Some days a swim welcomes you with open arms, it reaches out to you, with fair weather, and calm waters, it sends you a, ” this is your day vibe”. Today, is not one of those days. Today, Lake Memphremagog, is ornery.
Choppy Ile Ronde

Instantly my heart rate accelerates,I drive my head down low, and pull with long, strong strokes.” Every stroke draws me closer”, I think.

” Listen here, you!” I imagine, the Lake baiting me. ” You’ve been slipping that kiwi frame through my waters, all month, and I’ve played nice. Sure, I’ve given you some wind,rain, and cloudy skies to keep you honest, but this, a circumnavigation of Ile Ronde, now, now your pushing it!” This is the vibe this old Lake is giving me, she’s going to do her best to throw me off the horse, and I’m ready to fight back!

And with that Ole Memphremagog blows from the North, the wind steadily builds. I drive my head down even lower. The more she gusts, the harder I fight. Swells begin to roll down her waters, I breathe hard.

The light house comes, and goes, the vulture like birds look on.

Next up the border, we are in Canadian waters, I treat myself to a look at the island, it is getting closer. The closer it gets, the stronger I swim.

I look at the team, Phil White is calling in our pre approved entry into the Canadian custom officials, this makes it possible to swim continuously without having to go the customs station mid swim, I am grateful for this! Cynthia Needham is fixing my next feed, and then there is Skinner, sitting upright in the back of the boat. I fix my gaze on him, for what feels like a very long time.

My feeds are fast, I say very little to the crew. A few words like, ” Lovely morning”, ” “Bonjour mon ami”. But something’s brewing. For the past 30 minutes, I have been thinking of nothing else, other than what I have been bursting to tell, Phil and Cynthia. I grin, my widest grin, as I think of it. Finally feed time is here, I slide alongside the boat, reach for my feed and say, ” Could you guys do something about Skinner, he looks terrified, he may be thinking we are taking him back to smugglers cave, on Skinner Island”, I spit out the words with a roar of laughter, and then I’m off again. I just love adventure!
(If you don’t know about Skinner’s history, ready Skinner Island blog!)

approach ile ronde

The wind continues to gust, I know the island is close. Suddenly, Ile Ronde, looms in front of me. She is bigger than I anticipated, tall in stature, along with very tall trees. I make my approach and begin to swim clockwise around this proud island.

Back to Newport
As, I swim around Ile Ronde, I reflect on the battle to get here. “Lake Memphremagog made me earn it today”, I think, and then I smile, my very biggest of smiles, for I have made it around the island and am looking forward to a strong northerly tail wind the whole way home. Head down, and I accelerate down the lake.

Best island shot
In no time at all we are back at the border, WAHOO, I love border crossings! Phil and Cynthia fly the New Zealand flag as I cross, I can see the slash in the trees marking the border, and the border buoys in the water.

NZ Cap border

I continue down the lake, the sailboats are out in full force, one circles us, ” Is that Charlotte”, a yell comes from the sailboat. They follow us for a while, and as we near the city dock they peel off.The wind has eased, the gusts have dropped, lake Memphremagog has succumbed.

” Last feed”, says Cynthia, I smile and swim on. I know I am close, I watch the familiar landmarks, and enjoy the ride. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I see Cynthia bouncing up and down, it is clear she wants me to sprint. ” Either it’s a boat, or I am close to an hour mark”. I think, as I drive my head down, and pull hard. My breath is heavy and loud, I suck in oxygen, and forcefully exhale. I am 500 meters away, my shoulders burn, I keep sprinting.400 meters, 300 meters, 200 meters, the countdown is on. The last 100 meters is here, I don’t let up. The ramp is before me,”Oh no,slippery”, I remember the slide down the ramp this morning.I don’t let up, I swim as far as I can, then pop upright and scamper up the ramp, on my tip toes. Success, I clear the water, and turn to face the boat, pumping my fists, and grinning from ear to ear.

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My time 7 hours, 59 minutes and 4 seconds. Thanks to Cynthia Needham, a sub 8 hour swim.

What’s next?

Another Border Crossing of course! July 30th Kingdom Swim Border Buster!

Ile Ronde Circumnavigation Sunday July 24th – Start Time 6:30am EST

July 22, 2016 By Charlotte Brynn

track/rs.charlotte track.rs/charlotte View North

Sometimes a swim calls to you. That’s what happened here. I was intrigued and drawn to this swim……

The island of Ile Ronde sits with Owls Head mountain, looking down on it. ( You can just make out the speck of the island on the port side of the boat, below the black mark in the clouds )

Owls Head, is a breathtaking mountain, that has long fascinated me, it is so regal and majestic. I was curious as to why it was named Owls Head. All the locals I asked said it was because it looked like an owls head, but I was not convinced.

After some research, here is what I learned.

It’s unusual name originated from an Indian tribe who inhabited the area, the Abenaki, they hunted and fished in the local region for their existence

After the death of their great chief named “ OWL:, they decided to commemorate his existence and allow his spirit to last forever by naming the mountain “ Owl’s Head”. They believed the mountains outline resembled the great chiefs profile as he lay in a state of repose.

Here’s more about the upcoming Swim

Location: Lake Memphremagog

Distance: 16.6 Miles

Start Location: Newport Public Dock, Newport, Vermont, USA
End Location: Newport Public Dock, Newport, Vermont, USA

Course: Swim North across the US- Canadian Border. Swim around Ile Ronde. Swim South across the Canadain- US Border, back to Newport, VT, USA.

Why Circumnavigate? Because the Island is named Ile Ronde, the only way to swim in honor of a round island, is around it!

I’m looking forward to the thrill of crossing the border from Vermont, USA, into Canada and back again

The border is marked by a slash in the trees and border buoys in the water.

Phil White of The North East Kingdom Swimming Association will be observing/ piloting and Cynthia Needham will be team BRYNNSWIM on the boat.
Will we make it across the border and back with a successful circumnavigation of Ile Ronde? Will Owls Head guide us through our adventure?

Follow my swim track here, approximate start time is 6:30am EST track.rs/charlotte

US- Canadian Border

Border

Georgeville or Bust Border 15 mile Swim July 19th

July 22, 2016 By Charlotte Brynn

Georgeville, Quebec, Canada to Newport, VT USA

July 19th, 15 Miles 6 hours, 41 Minutes, 50 seconds

A Northeast Kingdom Open Water Swimming Association First

15 miles of scenic swimming in Lake Memphremagog, with a WNW Wind and cloudy skies.

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What a rush to blaze across the border, for another international swim! Thanks to Phil White of NEOWSA for supporting this swim, and BRYNNSWIM teammate and fellow adventurer Cynthia Needham for guiding me, feeding me, and sharing the grins.

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Skinner’s Island Double Crossing- July 8th

July 16, 2016 By Charlotte Brynn

ready to start

I gaze down the boat ramp at Newport’s Gateway center, there is no doubt about it, I’m excited, way excited. My adventure to Skinner’s Island is close, as soon as my foot touches the water, the words will flash across the movie screen, turn your cellphones off, this show is about to start.

I pull my goggles down, and adjust my cap, I take a few moments to take it all in, the beauty of the lake and my admiration of my team. Pilot and observer Phil White, and my capable one woman crew and teammate Cynthia Needham. Finally, Uriah Skinner, 206 years ago, he was setting off from Newport in his boat, bound for Magog to purchase contraband supplies, to bring back to the local farmers and their wives. ” It’s a better way to make a living than hard labor, I make more in one night than I would on the land, in a year”, chuckled Skinner, as he shoved off from the shore. I take the plunge and dive in to the dark waters of Lake Memphremagog.

Swim start

The water feels like silk as I slip under it’s surface and begin stroking away from the boat ramp, away from Newport and into the early morning, an old adventure and a new one, are now intertwined as one, as Uriah, and me head towards the Canadian Border.

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My heart is thumping. I drive my head down and pull through the water with long, strong strokes. I look straight down, taking in my surroundings. The water is thick with pollen, it is suspended in the water, like big snowflakes in a January snow storm. I swim through it, like a car driving through a blizzard, the pollen hitting my goggles, like snowflakes hit a windscreen.

Breathing

Django, pulls up beside me. She is a fine looking boat. A 16 ft, handcrafted dory, with Phil at the helm. He loves her, and it shows. Cynthia, is perched on the port side, looking over at me, we are eye to eye, I smile, and so does she. I am a port side swimmer, I breath to the right, meaning, that every 4 strokes, I roll to the right, getting a clear view of Django, Phil and Cynthia. There is much to keep me entertained, and I love watching. The jet boil is on, the coffee mugs are out, “it’s breakfast time, coffee and croissants, with ole Lake Memphremagog as a backdrop, what a morning”, I exclaim, as I return my eyes down, into the water. I am watching two movies, one above the water, and one below.

“I wasn’t expecting ole Magog, to kick up such a cool North wind in July”, grumbles Skinner, as he wraps a large sheet over his head. He had brought the sheet to cover his smuggled goods on the way back to Newport, not to shield himself from the wind. His cheeks burn, and he buries his head into his thick woolen sweater to better shield his face from the wind. ” All worth, a bit of discomfort” , he chuckles, ” a swig of brandy will cure all that ails me, ” he says with a grin, and with that, he put a little more heave ho into the oars, and rows quickly, down the lake, towards the Canadian Border.

Cynthia, starts reaching for my feed cup, out comes the thermos, she is pouring hot water into my feed, next she is shaking the bottle, ” Oh I can’t wait, it’s feed time”, I think. She holds the cup over the port side, and I swim up, and swipe it, like a toll operator collecting a dollar, at the toll booth. I roll onto my back, and swallow the contents. Cynthia gives me an update, ” your’e fly’n, we are past the lighthouse already, less than 3 miles to the border”, she says. I drop my feed cup,and shout ” hi,and thanks ‘, then roll onto my tummy and swim on, I’m off again.

I look deep into the water. I can see Skinner approaching the Canadian Border, in his row boat. An over-sized man, with a large frame, so big in stature that he tends to hunch over, allowing himself to bury his face from the view of others, and glance behind him on a dime, to see if he is being followed. He has bushy, thick beard, and, a half grin. A grin, giving one the impression, that he is up to no good, and getting away with it. A grin, that shouts out, I know, you know, what I’m doing, and, you’ll never catch me! ” That Captain Charlton, and his men, are just wasting their time trying to track me, for I know the ole islands of Magog, like the back of my hand, even in the dark, they’ll never find me, my precious boat, and cargo” He says, his voice trailing off into the wind.

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The US- Canadian Border, is marked by Border Buoys and a slash in the tree line, my eyes fix upon the slash in the trees, I am elated to cross into Canadian waters. The Canadian officials have granted us pre approval to enter Canada without stopping at the customs station, me and Uriah, continue into Canadian waters without skipping a beat.

Border Buoys
Every 30 minutes, Cynthia, calls me into Django to feed, 15 to 20 seconds later, I am back swimming, my eyes looking down into the deep waters of Lake Memphremagog, watching Skinner, on his journey, on my underwater movie screen.

Uriah, arrives at the end of Lake,in Magog, Canada. He wastes no time, tying off his beloved boat, and searching for a seller, from whom to buy his order of contraband. He repeats the list of goods in his head. ” There is the silverware, for the Robinson family,and the lace order for Mrs Dalton, a big order that one is too, she got lace for her all three of her sisters and their families, what a haul!” chuckles Skinner, as he loads the parcels of lace into his boat.
“Then there is the brandy for the loggers, and no shortage of it. The loggers in Newport, have a thirst I can barely keep up with, the most profitable of arrangements”. Chatters Skinner. “If I’m lucky, they’ll share a few swigs with me on delivery, and we will all have a few laughs about, how Captain Charlton, is still searching ole Magog for me, wet,cold and frustrated!” Skinner laughs as he imagines the scenario.
With the boat loaded, Skinner, gets to heaving the oars. His boat heads out into the night, heading south to Newport, and the border.

Cynthia holds up my feed up, ” Skinner Island is in sight”, she grins as she announces the news. I down my feed as quick as I can, I am excited to get my head back underwater, and see what’s happening to Skinner, there is less than 2 miles to go before I swim into his cave.
In the distance Skinner Island

” What a night, overcast skies, no moon to guide the captain and his men, it’s a smuggler’s night for me”, Skinner hummed. But what Skinner didn’t know was that sound had guided Captain Charlton and his men, they heard the waves against the bow of his beloved boat, they followed the sound, and within minutes, Uriah saw the lantern of the patrol boat, and it was closing in on him. Skinner, spun his boat around and heaved on his oars, he made quick work of rowing to his favorite hiding spot on ole Magog, a small overgrown Island. The island, has a shoreline of steep cliff faces. At the top of the cliffs, are heavily overgrown bushes, weeds and trees, which drape over the cliffs, concealing much of them.

Skinner pulls alongside the cliff, parts the vines and weeds, revealing a hidden cave, wide enough for six men, and tall enough for three. He unloads his parcels of lace,cases of silverware, and brandy, ties off his boat and stashes himself and all his smuggled goods at the back of the cave. Nothing left to do, now but wait it out, like he has many times before.

I take my last feed before the cave. I know, that Skinner,is now hiding in the cave from the Captain, and his men. The frothy waves are sloshing against the walls, at the mouth of the cave, sending chills down Skinner’s spine, he can’t swim. Not much scares Uriah Skinner, but the thought of immersing himself in the cold dark waters, of Lake Memphremagog, without air, makes him shudder. The water scares him to death.

I swim stronger now. After hours of swimming, the island is before me. I can feel the cave, the darkness of it, the dampness of the air, the intensity of the moment. I swim alongside the cliffs, looking for the cave.

Captain Charlton, and his men are scouring the top of the island. They have been searching the island for hours.
” That filthy outlaw, cannot disappear, find him, we are not leaving this god forsaken island until we find him”, Charleston roared, he was in a foul mood.
” Captain, you’ll want to see this” , shouted an officer. He pulled Skinner’s beloved boat along the cliff, with a proud smile. The Captain, had had enough, he was cold, wet and angry, ” That filthy hermit can have this hellish island”, screamed the Captain. And with that he tied Skinner’s boat, on to his, the men begin to row, the Captain holding the lantern. Skinner watches from the security of his hidden cave, as his boat and the light of the lantern fade from view.
He wants to shout out, STOP, NO! He bites his tongue, ” I won’t let them win, no one catches Uriah Skinner ” he mutterers, through clenched teeth, which are chattering from the cold. Skinner knows, if he is captured, it is certain execution, back in Newport, it doesn’t matter that he is in Canadian waters, they will take him by force, across the border where they can arrest him. Shortly after, execution.

Swimming to the cave

206 years later, the hanging vines, overgrown weeds, and bushes, have gone, yet I still nearly miss the cave, it blends into the cliff, from the angle of the water. It is the perfect hiding place, if you don’t want to be found, I can see how the officers missed it all those years ago.
The rocks are flat, sharp, and slippery at the entrance. I swim up to the mouth of the cave, staying on my belly as long as I can, after 9 miles of swimming, I know my legs will not be steady, when I stand up. I slowly draw myself upright, and make my way into the cave. I am able to swim up into the mouth, the water, sloshes from side to side, just like it did for Skinner. Spider webs drape across the front entrance, and phosphorescent moss lines the inside of the cave. I make my way further back to clear the water. At the very back of the cave, there is a rock formation, similar to that of a small seat or rock perch. I sit on it, and look out, catching the tail end of a boat, moving away from the view of the cave, the view Uriah, must have seen as his beloved boat faded from his view.

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Sitting like skinner

I breath it in, and look out to the lake, Uriah Skinner, unable to swim remained a prisoner in this cave, unable to swim, he was jailed here for life”, I pondered.
I waded back out, pump my fists and shout to the Cynthia and Phil, ” let’s finish this”.
I slipped back under the water and swim for the border, feeling very determined, with purpose and drive, ” Time to go home Skinner”, I think to myself.

Excited to land

I though a lot about Skinner on the way to the US- Canadian border. I thought about how he choose to perish, rather than surrender to the officers. I thought about how his fear of the water, defined the end of his life. I imagined, he drank the brandy, and sat in the cave until, it was time to meet his maker, comforted by the fact that he had not given in. And yet Mother Nature had the ultimate victory, for his smuggled goods where of no aid to him in the cave, and the brandy did not cure all that ailed him.

One the way south, back to Newport, I no longer had Skinner to watch underwater, so I focused back on my crew. The wooden trim of Django, the proud stance of Phil, my observer and pilot. The warm smile of Cynthia, my crew, feeding me, and perching Percy, the parrot on her head to make me laugh. They were all listening to music, and when I came in to feed I heard the music too, catching a song to play in my head until my next feed, 30 minutes later.
Soon we were crossing the border, out came the New Zealand flag, dancing in the wind. I lengthen my stroke and pull for home.

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Soon we pass the light house, 2 miles, and closing. We are nearly there. I dig deep, and pull hard, my hips are high in the water, I am slipping down the lake fast. More music, this time, not from the boat, it is from the Newport Jazz festival, welcoming me home

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I make my way up the boat ramp, I am pumped! Skinner Island Double complete. I finished what Uriah Skinner had set out to do 206 years ago, escaping the cave and making my way back to Newport.
18 miles of swimming in 8 Hours, 35 minutes and 57 seconds!

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Thanks to Phil White of North East Kingdom Open Water Swim Association, Cynthia Needham, crew, Tricia Kules, of Little River Land Surveying for documenting the course and Evan Morrison, of the Marathon Swimmers Federation for hosting my tracker.

Skinner Island- Smuggler Swim July 2016

June 12, 2016 By Charlotte Brynn

Skinner Island- International 18 Mile Smuggler Swim
July 9th or 10th 2016

In 1808, smuggler, Uriah Skinner, hid from the law, in a hidden cave, on a small island in Lake Memphremagog, a magical sheet of water that lies partly in Canada and partly in Vermont. Skinner, never made it off the island. I intend to!

208 Years later, the first Skinner’s Island, a swim to the island and back from Newport, USA.

Direction of Swim
North: Newport to Skinner Island
Clear the Water at Skinner Island
South: Skinner Island to Newport

Observer: Phil White, North East Kingdom Swimming Association

Crew: Cynthia Needham

About the Swim
I will swim up to Skinner’s Island, which nestles in Canadian waters.
My swim will begin in Newport, Vermont, I will swim north, across the border into Canada, and the very waters where federal agents discovered Uriah Skinner, eventually tracking him to his secret cave, on Skinner Island.
I will swim to the northeastern side of the island, where the cave, which is now submerged underwater, sits. The very cave, that Skinner, used to escape the law. The very cave, that would-ultimately become his dark, wet prison, hiding his bones, for over 100 years.
On reaching Skinner’s Island, I will clear the water on a natural shore, beyond which there is no navigable water. If geographic obstacles prevent me, from clearing the water at the island, I will touch part of the natural shore. I will then, swim back to Newport, Vermont, finishing the journey, Skinner himself, had set out to do, smuggling, by boat.
I will wear, only a single, textile swimsuit, with standard coverage, silicone swim cap, earplugs, and goggles.
On board, my support boat, in honor of Skinner, a trunk with similar items, as the smuggler is said to have had.
I will be following the Marathon Swimmers Federation Rules

The Legend of Skinner’s Island
In the early 1800’s, crates and parcels were being smuggled down Lake Memphremagog, from Canada to Newport.
Northern farmers, and their wives were acquiring themselves laces, sliver-ware, brandy and other goods, without paying a levy, or taxes. Federal officers knew, goods were being smuggled, they just couldn’t catch the outlaw responsible! Suspicion pointed to a large framed man.
Eriah Skinner was gigantic, he was a head taller than any other local fellow, he had a large bushy beard, a bold grin, and he knew the lake, like the back of his hand.
So well, in fact, that he could navigate it at night. ” There’s not an officer worth his salt, what can find me once I’ve hid away on the islands, of ol’ Memphremagog”, Skinner, would say, according to legends.

One fateful night, Skinner, was out in the dark, his boat piled high with crates and parcels. ” A tidy profit, for a nights work”, he chuckled, as he pulled on the oars. Then he noticed a lantern, it was moving towards him, “officers”, he muttered, under his breath. The officers voice carried, across the water. They were getting closer, they were fast in pursuit.

Skinner, darted towards his hideaway, an island. Not just any island, this was thickly vegetated with trees, vines, weeds, and clumps of shrubbery. He skillfully maneuvered his boat alongside a cliff. Stealthily, he parted the thick vines to reveal, not a cliff, but a long narrow cave. It was so long that,even in the daylight, you could see nothing at the end. A man, with a cargo of crates & parcels, such as Skinner’s, could not be hidden from view.
Skinner, tied off his boat, hauled his smuggled goods to the back of the cave and waited silently.

The patrol was relentless, they scoured the island for hours. Eventually, one proud officer found Skinner’s boat, he showed the captain his prize, grinning broadly, as he presented it.
” Excellent, he’s here”, said the captain, ” this will be his last time smuggling on this lake”, the captain added. The captain was right, it would be the last smuggling trip for Skinner, but not because the patrol caught him.
The officers continued to search for the outlaw, they searched, and searched, and came up empty handed. Eventually, the lead officer became so irritated he shouted to his men, ” He can have his hideous island, and all the goods, for all I care, for we have his boat “. With that, the patrol departed the island, with Skinner’s prize boat towing along behind it. One can only imagine, Skinner, watching his beloved boat, get smaller and smaller, along with the light from the officers lantern, as they both dropped out of Skinner’s sight, never to be seen again by Uriah Skinner.

No one heard of Uriah Skinner again, well not until the mid nineteenth century, when a guest at the prestigious Owl’s head resort, was out fishing on the Lake. Lake Memphremagog, started getting frisky, with strong winds, and frothy water. The guest sought refuge, on Skinner’s island, stumbling upon a deep cave, behind what seemingly was a cliff face. In he went to shelter from the storm, it was there he discovered a skeleton, of a very large size, one might say gigantic!

Long ago the Abenakis feared the cave,they considered it the haunt of a dreaded water beast. Which many, now believed to be ” Memphre”.

What about the Cave today?
Years ago, a Dam on the Magog River, raised the level of the lake more than 6 feet, today the entrance of the cave is no longer fully visible. It is unknown what remains are now in the cave. There could be anything from an over-sized human skeleton, and relics from the past, perhaps, some silver-wear, or what’s left of a barrel of brandy.

What will be discovered on this adventure swim?
Will the waters of Lake Memphremagog, swirl & foam, or reflect owls head in her glassy waters?
I’ll keep you posted!

Mayo, Matthew P. “The Legend of Skinner’s Cave.” Bootleggers, Lobstermen & Lumberjacks: Fifty of the Grittiest Moments in the History of Hardscrabble New England. Guilford, CT: Globe Pequot, 2010. N. pag. Print.

Marathon Swimmers Federation Rules

The swim begins when the swimmer enters the water from a natural shore. If geographic obstacles (e.g., cliffs) prevent the swimmer from clearing the water at the start, the swimmer may begin the swim by touching and releasing from part of the natural shore (e.g., cliff face).

The swim finishes when the swimmer clears the water on a natural shore, beyond which there is no navigable water. If geographic obstacles prevent the swimmer from clearing the water at the finish, the swimmer may finish by touching part of the natural shore.

Physical Contact

The swimmer may not make intentional supportive contact with any vessel, object, or support personnel at any time during the swim.

Standard Equipment

The swimmer may wear a single textile swimsuit with standard coverage, one latex or silicone cap, goggles, ear plugs, nose clips, and may grease the body. The swimmer may not use any additional equipment that benefits speed, buoyancy, endurance, or heat retention.

Drafting

The swimmer may not intentionally draft behind any escort vessel or support swimmer. The swimmer may swim alongside an escort vessel, but may not intentionally position him or herself inside the vessel’s bow and displacement waves, except while feeding.

Walk the plank time: 200 FREE in ice cold water

May 8, 2016 By Charlotte Brynn

winter swimming
I wake up, cozy in my bed, then I move, my thigh aches, I push back the cover to see a large Hematoma on my right thigh, I wince, as I swing my legs out of bed. ” Not to worry, I don’t kick that much anyway”, I chuckle to myself, as I pull on my swim suit, sweat pants and my big down jacket.

Out the door I go, and back to Newport, an hour drive. There, the pool looks inviting, with it’s glass like water. The sky is vibrant blue and the odd cloud reflects in the water. If it was not 31 degrees, it would be the most inviting of scenes.

The time comes for the 200 Free, I am in one of the first heats.Some of the other swimmers are nervously chatting about the distance, with understandable reservations, some have pulled out. I pull on my cap and secure my ear plugs firmly in place, negative talk, is not what I need to hear, I block out all conversation and focus on the upcoming 4 laps…. and surviving. I have had 3 swims to learn the ropes, now it is time to go swim the ultimate test…”Skinny girl verses 200 Freestyle in 31 degrees”. It should not be possible, yet I know it is.

I walk out to the ice, and strip off my clothing. My breathing is labored, I take a minute to slow it down, I step into the water.I glance at my fellow swimmer, in the lane beside me, it is a knowing exchange, and then we are off. The water is intrusive, like a slap on the face, it demands retaliation, I don’t let it. ” Long strokes, relax”, I send my mind firm instructions, it works. One lap down, ” Hey, this is not too bad”, I think. 2 laps down, ” that’s 100 done”, I announce. The third lap, I can no longer feel, my face. Now, just one lap to go, stopping is not an option, I can sense the end is near.Then, before I know it, I am grinning ear to ear, I am done!

I climb out of the steps, and realize that I am not grinning at all. My mouth has frozen into a grimace.But inside I am ecstatic, I survived, am reasonably unscathed and, I’ll be darned I had a good time, who knew!
My time a respectable 2:52.44, for second place.

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Next up the awards ceremony, and an always enjoyable visit with my fellow swimmers. My next swim date? Tomorrow at 81 degrees and in the comfort of the pool. I’ll suffer through it!

What’s up next? SCAR Arizona. Dessert swimming, and I can’t wait!

Closing thought: : Fun helps remove the barriers that allow people to motivate themselves” – Herman Cain

Memphremagog Winter Swimming Society Championships

May 8, 2016 By Charlotte Brynn

the pool temp

The pool is cut, the water temperaturean icy 31F!I arrive at the pool, wrapped in my down jacket, wearing a woolen hat, and snow boots. Right now I’m comfortable, I’m anticipating that will soon change!

Down Under swimmers

Time to swim, there is no getting around it before Saturday is complete I am going to plunge myself into the icy waters of lake Memphremagog, not once, not twice,three times, get ready Kiwi, you are about to be Popsicle!

25 FREE

At each end of the pool are wooden steps, I reluctantly take off my jacket, hat and flip flops, it is like walking the plank, as I walk down the steps into the icy water. Now it is time to swim, I dive off the ramp, the water hits me like a truck, it burns my skin, my breathing is rapid, my heart rate high, my face burns as I drive it into the water….and then it is over.
I get out and scamper off to the warming room. I make my way into the bathrooms for a warm shower. It is here I notice the water in the drain is red, I look at it, puzzled. I check my legs, arms, nothing,then I spy my thumb, the nail is ripped in half and it is spurting a bright red stream of blood. ” Oh dear, that’s going to be messy”, I think. I climb out of the shower, wrap myself up and head out into the other room, to let the hypothermic shaking subside. Soon it’s over, I wrap my thumb and have my sights set on the 50 Free.

50 Free hooked up

50 FREE
Next up 50 Free, I have figured out that I ripped off my thumb nail, by getting tangled in the lane line, the water is murky black and I have not yet figured out how to swim straight.

I push off for the 50, this time I sight, to ensure I am swimming straight, even so, I find myself bear hugging the lane line once more, ” rats”, I gotta figure this out. I thunder towards the steps to make my turn,for the final 50. A flip turn is out of the question, and illegal, I drive my knees up fast to execute a touch turn, BAM, I wince as I drive my thigh into the wooden ledge at the end of the pool. My leg throbs, I swim on, my right leg dangling behind me, limp, like a deflated water toy. Then it’s over!

100 FREE
After 2 plunges into the icy waters of lake Memphremagog it is time for the final event of the day, the 100 FREESTYLE. Think about it, 100 meters in 31F water, you can’t see the bottom, you can’t feel your limbs, only the strong beat of your heart. I know I have to sight regularly, to swim as straight as possible, and the biggest one, I need to relax, and control my breathing. However, cold the water feels, I need to focus on what feels warm, my heart, my core. Into the water I step, with my new skills in place.” Swim straight, relax, get long, and as much as you want to pull your face up, out of that ice cold water, press it down, you’ll raise your hips, and swim faster”, I think. Mental training in place,ready to race!
It works I swim faster, and am out of the water, in no time at all, Hooray! My time 1:25. I am done for the day….and then, there’s tomorrow.

What’s coming up tomorrow?
The 200 meter Freestyle! This is no one and done deal, this will test me to my limit. I pack myself up, and after a wonderful visit with the other swimmers, I head home. I climb into bed, and lay there with my eyes wide open. My feet are throbbing from the cold exposure, ” It would be so easy to just stay under the warm covers at 7am tomorrow morning and not go back to swim the 200 Free”, I think, but I put the thought out of my mind, because I know I’ll swim and give it my all, so why bother going there. I drift off into dreams of hot showers and soup…

Will I get in and swim the 200 Free? I’ll keep you posted!

Closing Thought: ” There is no ceiling on effort” – Harvey C. Fruehauf

Memphremagog Winter Swimming March 2016

May 8, 2016 By Charlotte Brynn

Ice Swimming Lake Memphremagog, Vermont

When the snow and ice arrives in the North East, most are reaching for their snow boards, skis, snow shoes or ice skates, this year I reaching for my an open backed swim suit, cap, ear plugs and goggles.

I am preparing for the March Memphremagog Winter Swimming Society Championships, two days of swimming in this very lake in a 2 lane, 25 meter pool,cut right into the ice. I’m joining 40 or so other swimmers from around the country, and world to come swim in an ice pool. How can I resist swimming in one of my favorite lakes!

I was able to get a training swim in on January 2nd, just as the lake froze, it was tough stepping through the ice to break out to the open water, but it was worth it!

Exiting the water was not quite as easy, the ice was sharp like shards of glass, I did my best to dodge the sharp edges on my way to the shore, regardless I sliced up my shins, they looked like those of a teenage girl, who had just shaved her legs for the first time, yikes!

Once warmed up, the cuts on my legs are long forgotten, I have completed my qualifying swim, and the smile shows it. Next stop the Memphremagog Winter Swimming Society Championships in March, right here in Newport, Vermont. I am excited to test the waters, this will be the coldest water I have ever submerged in, and I love a challenge!

How cold will the water, and will I be able to complete multiple laps of the bottomless ice pool? I’ll keep you posted!

Closing thought: “The real secret of success is enthusiasm” – Walter Chrysler

Countdown to swim the Kingdom, VT

July 19, 2015 By Charlotte Brynn

The ice has long melted, the lake temperture is rising, the summer breeze is blowing, yip, all signs point to it being time for the annual Kingdom swim in Lake Memphremagog and I am excited. I love the Kingdom swim, a gathering of good natured swimmers, 140 good natured swimmers to be exact, travelling from near and far, it is not unusual to hear many accents, including Aussie, English, Irish, French, Canadian, Vermonter and yes, even a kiwi, all coming to swim a variety of events, including the 1 mile, 3 mile, 6 mile, 10 mile and my new favourite the 15 mile border buster swim.

As the name states you literally BUST the border, swimming from Newport, Vermont, to Canada and back, this appeals to me very much indeed!

The training, always fun, has included pool swimming and a healthy dose of lake swimming, with the last two Saturday’s spent in Lake Willoughby, VT.
Lake Willoughby is an unseasonably cooler lake compared to it’s other Vermont lake cousins, Willoughby with a recent high of 63F, was a perfect hostess, allowing me to storm up and down, from North to South and back, with Cynthia Needham ( the one getting the biggest workout) battling flag straight out winds, by my side.

On my last visit I had company in the way of the Lake Willoughby Triathlon,sharing the lake with wet suit clad athletes, granted at the time we were starting from oppostie ends of the lake, eventually we got connected for a great exchange of stories of the day.

Next up, final race preparations and the big day itself, BIG FUN on the horizon. What’s made this swim extra special? Heidi Brynn and me training together, she is in for her first 6 mile swim, WAHOO!

What will the conditons be like and how many of us swim to Canada and back, I’ll keep you posted!

Cook Strait, New Zealand- Chin Up, Head held high

March 14, 2015 By Charlotte Brynn

Cook Strait North to South

No whining, No tears and No Giving Up
Outcome Incomplete swim

After 8 strong hours,of converging tides, sucker punching waves, sometimes agreeable, and others not, wind swept spray and the crest of the waves, finding my mouth and delivvering a complimentary ” Cook Strait Cocktail”, ” Hey Kiwi, give us a kiss”,said the mischievious waters

There were sea swells, and some flirtaeous smooth patches, brilliant sunshine, and also New Zealand’s legendary long white cloud, and finally a gobsmackingly brilliant crew, after an estimated 26k my swim was over,
Phillip Rush, who guided me, coached me, with the utmost care and skill, and spirit lifter Cynthia Needham who feed me, and made me giggle were brilliant, jostling along beside me in the zodiac.

Phillip made the call, after my stroke rate dropped and power dimished, I was called to the boat and obedietnly swam in, I was approx 3k from New Zealand’s regal South Island.

What a swim, I enjoyed every stroke even the hard ones, although Cook Strait was victorious in the home stretch, I gave her a and a good old Kiwi kick in the pants,just needed a bigger foot!

Cook Strait delivered an edge of your seat adventure,I am in good health, have racoon eyes, my chin is up and head held high.

I look forward to sharing the adventure after I clean up, rest up and refuel

Thanks for all your good vibes.

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