Professor Wade shares his experience and struggles participating in the annual Asia to Europe Cross-Continental swimming race. This race welcomes swimmers from all over the world during which the Bosphorus halts all shipping.
Lord Byron said that his proudest achievement was not literary but sporting. In 1810 he swam around five kilometers across the Hellespont (now the Dardanelles, south of Istanbul, near Gallipoli) in one hour and ten minutes. “I plume myself on this achievement more than I could possibly do on any kind of glory, political, poetical…”
Preparing for the Bosphorus Swim
Sunday 25 August, the sixth time for me in the annual 6.5k swim race across and along the Bosphorus at Istanbul. I knew from the past five events that the most difficult part was the last three quarters kilometer. You have to time your turn out of the main current towards the finish just right. If you don’t turn soon enough you get carried by the current below the finish, and who knows, into Sea of Marmara and on to Egypt! That happened to me the first time, but then I did manage to swim back up to the finish, just in time to avoid the 2 hour disqualification. But if you turn too soon you hit the counter current closer to the shore and have an almighty battle to finish. This year the counter current was strongest I have experienced. I swam for one and three quarter hours, the last three quarters the hardest of my life.
Around 2,800 swimmers, about half Turks, half from rest of world, of whom many Russians (the three languages are Turkish, Russian, English). We assembled at finish area. Kurucesme park was filled to bursting with swimmers, family, friends, organizers, volunteers, TV crews, and excited announcers’ voices coming through boom boom loudspeakers.
The swimmers lined up in several files to board the boat to the start point on the Asian side (upstream of Second Bridge). Each file had a controller who implemented Olympic standards — checked bathing suit (no neophrene or other buoyancy material), nails ( so short that controller could not feel nails when fingers tapped on controller’s hand), watches, rings and other adornments (none at all).
The three boats departed in sequence. Which meant that those on the first boat, designated for the older competitors (swim cap numbers are by age), which included me (MV70+), had to wait over an hour and a half at the start, on the boat, as the other two boats loaded up, travelled the distance, docked. Once the third boat docked, a special barge with a magnetic mat was manoeuvred into position on the outside of third boat. This mat takes the departure time of each swimmer from the chip on the leg.
All this took forever. I had time to study faces and watch the camaraderie of small groups, and pay attention to the many forms of warm-up exercise on display.
Into the Water: The Race Begins
First swimmers jumped into water (from third boat) around 10am. Swimmers were released in smallish groups to avoid dangerous overcrowding in the water. Getting 2,800 swimmers going took more forever.
In previous years I joined in the pushing to jump into the water as soon as possible. This year I held back from joining the pack of many hundreds on the first boat waiting to be released. I wondered about Covid transmission in such a tightly packed mass, waiting and waiting, taking in each other’s breath. I was one of the last, set off after 11am.
Facing the Elements
At first the going was good, the sea fairly calm. But after a few kilometres the wind picked up, the waves became rough (as though made by passing ships going in different directions), I felt tossed like a cork in a storm, began drinking mouthfuls of salt water. Meanwhile my goggles were leaking, to the point that I had to stop and try to adjust them several times. My legs and feet began to cramp. But my upper body felt fine as I counted the strokes from one to a hundred and back up again, sometimes accompanied unbidden by Tchaikovsky’s Souvenir of Florence or Faure’s Sicilienne (which I play on guitar).
Then came the turning point, the second tower of the military school on the Asia side and a concrete block island on the European (right) side, about three quarter of a kilometre from finish. I decided that I was too far out from the island and in danger of being carried by the main current past the finish (as in 2017). Trouble was that I could not see at all clearly where the finish was. I turned at a fairly steep angle to swim closer to shore.
I kept going at this angle far too long, came too close to shore, before realizing that I was in a vicious counter current. I am puzzled now why I did not change direction and try to swim away from the shore towards the main current, and come at the finish from another angle. Perhaps because I thought I was fairly near the end, even though I could not clearly see it. I stayed close in and marked my progress against landmarks, like people and marks on buildings, in centimetres. A friend on shore told later that those waiting in the stands started cheering a man as he struggled and struggled towards finish, travelling (she estimates) 30 meters in 20 minutes. He was further out than me, less exposed to the counter current. My friend has videos of this man and other swimmers. The videos show some of the others doggedly thrusting their arms forward stroke by stroke as they travelled backwards.
Captured Before the Finish
I kept going, counting strokes. At one point I switched to breaststroke, and soon was shocked to see I was moving backwards, fast. Places I had passed were traveling in the wrong direction. But at least I could now see the finish, only about 50 meters away, and I resumed front crawl. Just then a rescue boat came in front and blew a piercing whistle. Crew members waved their hands across their chest that I had to stop. I shouted no, I will continue to the finish. They waved their hands across their chests again and shouted that time was up. Around me I saw that other boats were removing swimmers from the water. So, cursing, I grabbed the offered hand and was hauled into the boat.
It turned out that this happened just before the floating dock where other boats were unloading their rescued or captured swimmers. Almost as soon as I landed in the boat I had to grab the offered hand coming down from the shore.
I later learnt the rule (not learnt in the five previous swims): all swimmers must be out of the water by 1pm, to allow the busy Bosphorus to re-open for the world’s shipping. That meant I had been swimming for around 1 3/4 hours. That compares with my time in 2018 of 1 hour and 14 minutes, 2nd in my age group – only time in my sporting life I have stood on winners’ podium in front of TV and cameras and cheering people !
Post-Race Reflections
Walking back the short distance to the finish I was happy to know that I could have made it – just — if the 1pm rule had not intervened; and equally dismayed not to have actually made it. I became one of many “Did Not Finish” (DNF). But of course I did experience the whole carnival atmosphere, and in particular the company of good friends in a family, one of whom has now done it 19 times (she introduced me to the race). She got the turn right and finished in 1 hour 20 minutes. Still, I can at least say that I’ve done the race six times, except for last 50 meters on the sixth time (all except the last 0.0007th !). She and I and her extended family have formed a Mutual Admiration Society which meets annually in a suitable restaurant after the race.
Physical recovery is quite quick, unlike after a marathon. Post race we drove to a celebrated Ottoman restaurant in Takzim (Haci Abdullah) where the food was unfamiliar and delicious, and where we toasted our great good mutual fortune.
Overall results: A young Turkish man had fastest time, as though propelled by electric motor: 45 mns. Young Turkish woman had fastest women’s time, 47 mns. Of the women, around 12 percent did not finish or were disqualified. Of the 12 in the FV70+ age category, 40 percent.
Of the 2065 men, 208 or ~10 percent did not finish or were disqualified. Of the 46 in the MV70+ category, 23 percent, almost a quarter. Of the 12 age categories (male), “did not finish” and “disqualified” amounted to over 10 percent in seven, including 40-44, 45-49, 60-64, 65-69, 70+.
Beyond the swim carnival and the friends there is Istanbul, which has become one of my favourite cities. I feel full of wonder, awe, curiosity, and just plain excitement when I am there (visiting from London and London School of Economics). It is striking how few people seem to be homeless and sleeping out, compared to central London. My enjoyment was helped by staying in the sanctuary of the Istanbul University Guest House near Second Bridge – which used to be a sultan’s palace, where guests are now accommodated in what was the harem and where the sultan’s grand reception room displays aphorisms high on the walls in Turkish and English which read:
“Free is slave as he is covetous”
“Slave is free as he is satisfied with what he has” (my emphasis)
“There is nothing harmful for honour of man as cupidity”
“Be satisfied, never be covetous”
Istanbul University is famous in physics circles for having received a letter from one Albert Einstein in early twentieth century enquiring about academic positions, and replying (paraphrase) “thank you but we have enough teachers in your branch”.
Urgent message to organizers: make the finish point much more visible from low in the water!
The views expressed in this post are those of the author and in no way reflect those of the International Development LSE blog or the London School of Economics and Political Science.
Featured image credit: The unusually calm finish at the 2016 Bosphorus Intercontinental Swim in the Cemil Topuzlu Park at Kuruçeşme. Source: commons.wikimedia.org. CC-BY-SA-4.0
