Even with a wetsuit, it feels like suicide. With each stroke away from the secluded beach, the swimmer becomes more aware that if he stops moving his limbs, the cold of the fifty-degree water will consume them. Within about ten minutes, feet aren’t feet anymore—they become solid blocks attached to legs. The inexperienced ocean swimmers can’t keep their face under to exhale after each stroke because the denseness of the freezing water makes their chest constrict so tightly that exhaling into the blackness would be like trying to blow through a thin straw. But the swimmer keeps moving, struggling against the force of the ocean, like the sensation of two magnets being held so close that they almost meet.

Once the swimmer finds a spot where the current is calm, he breaks to tread water and takes in the short and wheezy gasps of air he needs after being in the Bay for a full fifteen minutes. The quick and rapid inhalation of oxygen combined with his body’s numbness makes the swimmer feel as though he is beginning to experience a drug high. At 6:35 in the morning, the sun is just beginning to illuminate the Golden Gate Bridge from the east, and the purple haze of the early morning fog is slowly melting into the blue of the sky behind the iconic red arches. Ghiradelli Square lies in the opposite direction, and the Embarcadero is still empty. This is a postcard view of San Francisco that isn’t on any postcard—because it can only be seen at water level. To get here a person has to be completely crazy. Or be a San Francisco Bay swimmer. Actually, both are required.

Bay swimmers belonging to the San Francisco Dolphin Club swim in the freezing Bay water throughout the day to experience the feeling of adventure that only comes from being in the open ocean. The Dolphin Club is a non-profit, public access athletic organization whose participants swim in numerous long-distance marathons in the San Francisco Bay in addition to their daily workouts in the area off the Embarcadero known as the Aquatic Park. These swimmers get in the water almost every day despite high chances of contracting hypothermia or interacting with potentially dangerous marine life. It’s that feeling of adrenaline that drives them to push themselves past feelings of apprehension. And it’s an exhilaration that often extends into their out-of-ocean lives.

During the early morning, Kevin Haugh often swims among historic boats resting in the water against the docks where tourists walk in the afternoon. This morning the sun has not risen, and the only distinguishable light he can see is from the round glow sticks attached to his fellow swimmers’ caps. As he swims with his head down, he feels something so large under him that it seems to displace the water, making it rise. As he brings his arm down to instinctively complete his stroke, his fingers run through what feels like the coat of an enormous furry dog. A surge of fear overcomes him, but he continues swimming. The water level returns to normal after several strokes, and when he takes his head out of the water, the head of a sea lion pops out and looks him in the eye, as though it wants to play.

While encounters with seals and sea lions are potentially dangerous and can be frightening, these incidents, as well as the vigorous exercise Bay swimming offers, keep Haugh coming back to the ocean three times a week.

“You are left with a sense that you had a really special encounter,” he explains. “It’s this magical feeling—like, I touched a sea lion!”

According to Haugh, swimmers typically see seals or sea lions almost everyday, but being “whiskered” or “bumped” by a sea lion’s nose happens about once a month.

Although sharks are occasionally sited in the Bay, they pose more fear to swimmers than an actual threat.
“The sharks in the Bay are Thresher sharks and Leopard sharks, and they’re carnivorous, but they don’t eat people,” says Larry Scroggins, a long time Bay swimmer.

According to Dolphin Club caretaker Lou Marcelli, dangerous sharks, like the Great White, stay away from the Bay because of the pollution. And although swimming with wildlife can be a magical experience, the swimmer’s sense of fear keeps interaction with their marine friends brief.

“I did see a seal one day,” says Lolly Lewis, a recent inductee to the Dolphin Club. “I was out talking to someone, and suddenly this little black head popped up right between us—First instinct: Ooh! How cute!! Second instinct: I am so outta here.”

Despite the startling confrontations swimmers may have with wildlife, it is the unpredictable nature of the ocean that draws them to the Bay as opposed to the monotony of lap swimming in a pool. The harsh and erratic setting of Bay swimming offers more than just a workout—it changes the swimmers mental state.
“I find it to be a wilderness experience in the urban environment,” says Lindsay Casablanca, a Bay swimmer who has been with the Dolphin Club since 1980. “It’s also addictive—the cold water really gives you a buzz. It is remarkable that way. It’s euphoric.”

Dolphin Club swimmers must be aware of the risk of hypothermia because they generally swim without wetsuits, fins, or other flotation devices in the often chillingly-numb water. Without a wetsuit, swimmers say they are more able to have the full experience of the ocean and stay more buoyant.

“It is a unique experience you can get by totally immersing yourself in the water,” says David McGrane, who has been swimming in the Bay since 1998. “You are just a lot more sensitive to everything that’s going on, in a good way, despite the cold.”

A typical Dolphin Club swimmer wears a racing suit, goggles, and two swim caps to help retain the most heat possible in the swimmer’s head. After getting out of the water, the swimmers’ skin is often blotchy and red from the chill, and they must immediately warm up in the sauna and shower to get their body temperatures back to normal.

Dolphin Club swimmers also go without wetsuits for bigger swims beyond Aquatic Park, such as the Escape from Alcatraz swim and the Golden Gate swim. Big swims often take several hours, and are made difficult by changing currents and the extended amount of time swimmers spend in the chilly water.

Whether it is the one-and-a-half-mile swim from Alcatraz or a simple workout along the shore, just the thrill of being in the water, and doing it habitually, gives these athletes a sense of fulfillment.

“I like the solitude of swimming. Even in the pool it feels very personal, just me and water and the breath. But in the Bay that feeling is amplified tremendously,” says Lewis. “I love the feeling of getting in the water, like entering another whole universe. I love what it looks like—every day is different, every day is so beautiful. And even though some days it feels really crazy to get in, coming out I always feel like a million bucks.”