The Farallones swim was done after years of training in cold water, including marathons in both Monterey Bay and the North Channel from Ireland to Scotland. But those were shorter and warmer swims.
During the Farallones Gulf swim, she hit the continental shelf current and the water temperature dropped to 43 degrees. She’d never before been in water colder than 47 degrees.
She does not wear a wetsuit — open water marathon swimmers are allowed only their swimsuit, cap, goggles and earplugs.
“I was pretty steady for the most part, but at the end we hit a strong current and the water got colder,” said Gubser. “My progress was slowed because I was chilled to the bone. I did not expect 43 degrees. That was nuts.”
Though Gubser started in the dark and finished at dusk, she was not out there alone the whole time. She had a support boat piloted by Chad Dahlberg of Pacific Rival Fisheries, and a support team of SERC swimmers that included John Chapman, Abby Fairman, Kirk McKinney, Ken Mignosa, Sarah Roberts and John Sims. Roberts, McKinney and Mignosa each swam part of the way with her.
Roberts was the first, jumping in at the 15-mile mark, where water temperatures were in the 40s.
“No amount of training prepares you for the shock of how desperately cold it is,’’ said Roberts, an accountant. ‘These swims are so long that after seven or eight hours it can start to take a toll on you mentally. You can get into a negative head space, so it helps when you see someone you know and trust in the water beside you.’
But rules limit support-swimming to one hour, with at least an hour in between. Otherwise she was on her own.
Gubser said she was in pain for every one of the 17 hours, but when she needed motivation she thought of her stepbrother, Dan Fine, 67, who is fighting stage four pancreatic cancer. That kept her going.
Only once did she complain to her crew that she was cold — which scared them because she never does that.
But she said she was not about to give up. “I wanted my kids to be proud of me, and I wanted my grandkids to be proud of me,” said Gubser.
Also, she said, she was determined not to have to go through the ordeal again.
Gubser grew up swimming in the warmer ocean waters of Manhattan and Hermosa Beach, where she worked as an ocean lifeguard. One tower away was her future husband, Greg.
Also a pool swimmer, she swam the backstroke at the University of Michigan, which she attended on a scholarship. She has stuck with pool swimming as a member of the Burlingame Aquatic Club Masters, two to three mornings a week.
To train for the Farallones, she swam two or three days a week, for two hours in the dark and against an incoming tide in the bay. She trained before work, which normally starts at 7:45 a.m.
When she completed her odyssey, she posted to Facebook. “I had a little swim this Saturday!”
Others took it as more than a “little” swim.
“I believe the swim between the Farallon Islands and the mainland is the toughest marathon swim in the world,” said Evan Morrison of Sydney, co-founder of the Marathon Swimmers Federation. “Amy’s endurance in cold water is unparalleled. There are no more than two or three people who could even have a chance at doing what she did. Her ability is world class.”
“It is absolutely amazing what she did,” said SERC member Marc Glomb, who was part of Gubser’s land support team. “It’s a superhuman feat by a superhuman.”
On Tuesday morning, Gubser was back in the bay, swimming out of SERC with her usual Tuesday morning group. She stayed within the bounds of Aquatic Park, which felt easy to her. Every swimmer on her crew has an open water goal for the summer.
“I want to support other swimmers this summer to help them achieve their goals,” she said. “I just hope I can inspire others to challenge themselves.”