Lake Mead

The History:

My story of Lake Mead starts nearly three years ago. In February 2021, I visited the Hoover Dam for the first time with a couple of friends. Built in the early 1930s, the Hoover Dam is located about 30 miles outside of Las Vegas, and straddles the Arizona and Nevada border. The dam itself is an impressive sight. It is the 2^nd tallest dam in the US at nearly 730 feet tall and its massive amounts of concrete hold back the largest man-made reservoir in the US (when it’s full). When you look down from the top of the dam to the river below, it’s nearly impossible not to get vertigo. The dam forms Lake Mead, stopping the water flowing from the Colorado River and the Virgin River. The Virgin River enters the lake from the north and forms the Overton Arm of Lake Mead, while the Colorado River flows in from the east.

Simply put, I love the Colorado River. It starts in my home state, fed by snowmelt and rain from the Rocky Mountains and winds its way west, stopping in several reservoirs along its route to the Pacific. It forms Lake Powell, which I swam the 80-mile length of in 2016, before it flows through the Grand Canyon and eventually into Lake Mead. It’s the lifeblood of the southwestern US, supplying drinking water and electricity to Colorado, Nevada, Utah, Arizona and California (and Mexico). After years and years of drought, those resources are being tested and without some sort of intervention, the future of water and power in the southwest will be severely limited. Click here to read more on the background of that.

(There is so much history of Lake Powell and the Colorado River that I find fascinating. If you’re into that sorta thing + the history of dams across the US, I HIGHLY recommend reading The Emerald Mile by Kevin Fedarko. I read it shortly after my Lake Powell swim and found it absolutely fascinating.)

There is something in my soul that feels connect to large lakes and so, when you think about it, it’s no surprise that standing high over the lake on a beautiful February afternoon, I was moved. This lake immediately felt like home.

A year later, I was in Vegas for a work trip and had a one-day break between meetings. I rented a car for the day and took myself out to the lake. I found a promising spot on the map, drove to the cove, and amidst the stares of a handful of folks fishing, walked into the 55-degree water and swam straight out into Las Vegas Bay. When I came back, two hours later, a woman rushed over to me, relieved I’d returned safely. I was more than safe. I was invigorated and totally in love.

I needed to swim this lake. All of it.

The Logistics:

However, in 2022, we were in the midst of a huge drought. Lake Mead’s water levels were dropping rapidly and the predictions were dismal. By the fall of 2022, I wasn’t sure a swim across the lake would be possible. With receding water levels, there were discoveries of dead bodies: People who had drowned years ago and never been recovered. A body was found in a barrel, likely a victim of a mob crime in the 70s. People were getting stuck in the mud along the shoreline. The reports were devastating. Without significant snowfall, over many years, the future of Lake Mead seemed doomed. (Link to article)

Then, over the winter of 2022-2023, Colorado had massive amounts of snowfall. My hopes for a swim started to rise, but it all depended on how the Bureau of Reclamation handled water levels for Lake Powell and Lake Mead. (Lake Powell water levels are also suffering- it’s shocking to see where the water is today compared to when I swam it in 2016.) Early reports were that the water levels might not drop as low as predicted in 2023, but it was still in a state of crisis. But, I didn’t give up hope and kept my eye on conditions.

This spring, my swimming focus was on Japan and swimming the Tsugaru Strait. I had Lake Mead in the back of my mind, should conditions improve enough for a swim and I still felt like going long after Japan. It’s a long time between July and October, and even way back in April, I had the itch to do something long this year. And then, we didn’t get to swim in Japan. I knew I needed to put my training to good use, so within a week of returning home from Japan, I shifted my sights back to Lake Mead. I just couldn’t let go of this particular swim. It was calling me.

So, I started researching. To my surprise, I found that water levels were actually up from spring and last fall, by about 40 feet. Well below “full pool” levels, but high enough. I emailed a marina “can you drive a house boat from Callville Bay to South Cove safely?”, just to make sure it was passable. They assured me it was all navigable via houseboat. Game on!

Next, I needed to figure out the logistics of the swim; where to start and how to get there. A couple of marinas up the Overton Arm are permanently closed due to low water levels. The more I looked up that way, the less I wanted to swim it. So, I settled for starting the swim in South Cove. Lake Mead is advertised at 112 miles long, when it’s full. As I looked further up, past South Cove, the lake looked more like a river. The permanent, concrete boat ramp at South Cove is closed because the water levels are still too low to accommodate the ramp. To me, it seemed risky to count on good, clean, swimmable water much past South Cove. When I mapped out a route from South Cove to the Hoover Dam the first time, I think I squealed out loud: It was just about 50 miles. PERFECT!

The route was set: South Cove to the Hoover Dam. But then, I had to solve the puzzle on how to make it work. Do we drive out with Ryan’s grandpa’s boat and do it really small? Or do we rent a boat near the Hoover Dam, drive all the way up to South Cove and swim back? Should I rent a houseboat? How big of a crew do I need? And as I dug into the marinas along the lake, I noticed: They all did something different. I couldn’t rent a boat for more than 1 day at time out of Las Vegas marina. Callville Bay Marina only had houseboats. And then I hit the jackpot: Temple Bar Marina. I hadn’t seen it on my initial searching; it’s small and on the Arizona side and by all accounts it’s pretty rural. But, after joining a couple of Facebook groups around the lake and asking around, there it appeared, exactly what I needed. They had a “resort” (which I assumed, correctly, was just like Apache Resort for SCAR), and they did multiple day pontoon boat rentals and had kayaks to boot! It was about 13 miles from South Cove and about 37 miles from the Hoover Dam. It seemed like the perfect solution. We could stay the night before the swim and return there when the swim was over. They had rooms with kitchens, so we could cook and if something happened mid swim, we had a midway point to abort and return to safety easily.

Puzzle solved.

Next up: Crew. I’d done 50 miles in Lake Memphremagog with two people: Ryan and Bill Shipp. I’d done 42 miles in Tahoe with Ryan, my mom and Jamie Patrick. I knew for this swim, less was more. I didn’t need or want a big crew. Just something simple, safe and quiet. I enlisted the help of two of my best buddies, Craig and Celeste (plus, Ryan of course). Craig has crewed a few long swims for me and Celeste paddled SCAR for me two years back. They’re both great friends, smart, easy to get along with and were up to the task of sitting on boat for a day or so for me.

Then, I had to settle on a date. I picked an October date for a few reasons. First, all my research showed that water level fluctuations even out in October. The lake would be as high as it was going to be in October before slowly starting to empty over the winter months. Second, I was hoping for cooler air and water temperatures. In the dead of summer, the water can hit close to 90 and the air temps can be well over 100. It’s hard to get super accurate temperature readings (are they measuring surface temps or are they measuring 10 feet down?), so I was hesitant to push too late into October for fear I’d be chilly. As it turned out, we had a long, hot summer and the water and air were still pretty warm, but not deathly so. I’d be hot, but hopefully it wouldn’t make me sick. We packed extra water and some Pedialyte and hoped for the best.

Everything was set in place. The route was planned out, the boats were  rented, flights were booked for the first weekend of October. It was go time.

The Swim:

Ryan, Craig and I flew in from Denver Wednesday night and drove the rest of the way to Temple Bar on Thursday evening. Celeste drove up from Phoenix (with a car full of supplies). We settled in on Thursday night, organized our gear, and ate a spaghetti dinner before turning in early.

The earliest we could pick up the boat was at 8 am on Friday morning. So, we slept in, I scrambled everyone some eggs in the hotel room, and made our way to the marina at 8 am. By 9:30, we’d checked out the boat, were loaded and organized, and were underway, ahead of schedule. It was still early, but we were already roasting on the water. We had a 13-mile boat ride to South Cove and it was our first chance to really check out the lake and route I’d created. I learned from Lake Powell that creating a route based off of Google Earth and maps wasn’t a guarantee. Water levels fluctuate daily. Some maps made my route look like it was down the center of the lake because they were showing higher water levels. I had created a conservative route- the shortest distance between South Cove and the Hoover Dam that hopefully didn’t run us aground, but we wouldn’t know for certain if we would need to divert around hazards or what corners we could cut. Our initial sense was my route was dead on, but we had 48 miles to travel before we’d really know.

We arrived at South Cove just before 11 am. There was a small crowd of kayakers waiting for me. I had befriended a few folks in the Facebook groups I’d been stalking to get info and they were enthusiastic about my mission. I arrived to cheers and puppies in kayaks. After I had greased up on the boat, I headed to the temporary, gravel boat launch where a handful of others had gathered. I was greeted with more cheers and requests for pictures and autographs- definitely a first for a swim start! I spent about 10-15 minutes chatting with the onlookers- grateful for their energy and warm welcome, a nice distraction from my growing nerves.

But, then it was time. So, I turned and faced the water, checked that my boat crew was ready and waded into the water at 11:14 am.

The water was warm, about 76 degrees, but that was cooler than a report from a week prior, so I was relieved. There was a slight chop with a mild headwind and I happily set off down the lake. The first hour went quickly and smoothly. The wind wasn’t terrible, but noticeable and enough to put me on edge, just a little. What if it got worse?

My swim strategy was to swim nice and easy during the day on Friday, then once the sun went down and we had relief from the sun, I’d pick up the pace and swim hard through the night. Then, once the sun came up on Saturday, I’d either keep the pace or back off, depending on the heat and how I was feeling. The tracker shows a perfectly executed plan. The headwind early on forced me to be relaxed. I was feeling nervous about my training, it hadn’t been flawless, so I purposely held back during the day, saving my energy for the night. Several times, I had to consciously force myself to stop fighting the wind and to slow down.

About five hours in, Ryan asked me if I was having the best time. I was. I wasn’t too hot, the wind wasn’t too bad, and we had the lake to ourselves. I couldn’t have asked for a more ideal situation.

Throughout the afternoon, the wind would pick up and die down, never reaching challenging speeds. Just as the sun was about to set, the wind picked up a touch, but again, nothing I hadn’t expected. Big desert lakes often get strong afternoon winds and what I was swimming in was clearly an afternoon wind, but significantly less impactful than I had anticipated. I knew as soon as the sun set, we’d be back to flat conditions.

Just after sunset, we were approaching Temple Bar Marina, where we’d left from that morning. We’d made it back in just over 7 hours. Doing the math, I knew I was exactly on schedule and swimming well. However, I was starting to feel the effects of the heat and my shoulders were feeling tired, but entirely manageable.

The darkness is long in October. 12 hours. The sun set about 6:30 pm and wouldn’t rise again until about 6:30 am. At one point, I asked “What time is it?”, feeling like the sun had been down for hours. “7:45”, was Celeste’s immediate reply. “Jeeze, it feels like midnight already” I replied back, a little disheartened. “Trust us, it feels the same up here.”

In many ways, I was looking forward to the dark. The sun was hot and the cooler night temps were welcome. However, 12 hours of blackness is tough, no matter the benefits.

In the dark, we approached the wide-open Virgin Basin, where the Colorado and Virgin Rivers meet. It was good we were going across at night, when the wind would be at a minimum, but any time two bodies of water meet, there is going to be chop. The moment we rounded our final corner, about 11 pm at night, I felt the water change immediately. It was choppy and confused. At a feed stop, I looked around the best I could to get a sense of if it was windy, too, or just choppy. Mostly just choppy. My shoulders were starting to ache and I asked for some Advil to settle the inflammation.

When the water is choppy, there’s nothing you can do to fight it- there’s no point in straining against it. You have no choice but to work with it. My shoulders were burning and the Advil didn’t seem to make a dent in the pain. At my next feed stop, I let my crew know I was going to back down my effort some in order to give my shoulders a break. They assured me that I was swimming really well, so it wouldn’t hurt anything to slow down. “You’re doing exactly what you need to do,” Craig said, “You can do whatever you need to feel better.”

I spent the next 2 hours focusing on relaxing my stroke, trying not to cry, working with the water, and urging my arms to stop screaming at me. I kept trying to find exactly the right elbow position and entry point to alleviate the pain, reassuring myself that it was going to be ok; I wasn’t hurt, I was just getting tired.

At one point, just as I was starting to feel better, Craig said, “I see you found your balance again.” He was right. I had been struggling and feeling low, but, finally, I was at peace in the water and my confidence was coming back. I reminded myself that I wasn’t doing this swim just for me, but as a cancer fundraiser with Swim Across America, so I needed to pull it together and not let anyone down. I wasn’t even close to the pain I felt during my cancer treatments, so I told myself, “suck it up, girl, keep going.”

A few times in the night, Craig blasted a spotlight into the water ahead of us, to ensure we weren’t about to run aground. We went over a few shallow sections that were nicely marked with buoys and had to divert around an island. However, the second we passed by the island, I received some protection from the chop and magically, the lake went back to dead flat water once again. I smiled with relief. In the dark, we could see the opening to the narrows a few miles ahead. My goal was to be through most of the narrows by daybreak, so once again enjoying the benefits of flat water that didn’t hurt my shoulders, I put my head down and swam hard for the opening.

We hit the narrows about 5 am, where towering canyon walls jutted straight out of the water, only a few hundred yards apart. The moon had risen, so there was enough light for me to make out the walls and the water marks high above me. Craig told me to take it all in, so I flipped over onto my back and admired the moon, stars, and canyons in the half light. I had a momentary thought that I sure hoped a speedboat didn’t round a corner at full speed in the dark, but we hadn’t seen another boat in hours, so I put the thought out of my head.

The sun had set quickly, seemingly going from late afternoon to midnight in a moment. On the other side, it rose just as fast. We went from moonlight to daylight in a matter of 30 minutes. One of my favorite things on a swim is when I can finally see my team’s faces again. All night long, I’d been wondering if it had gotten cool enough for Craig to change out of his swim suit and into pants. At first light, I could see he was wearing a light jacket, but still no pants. I laughed at his commitment to being ready to swim a moment’s notice.

The water through The Narrows was beautiful. It was flat and silky and in the early morning, I wasn’t suffering from the heat. Again, we were right where I expected to be on the course and everyone reassured me I was swimming well, though I was admittedly getting tired. We were all happy and content, enjoying the swim. Ryan was taking a nap. Still, I’d hoped to finish ahead of schedule. Something closer to a 24-hour swim than a 30-hour swim was sure sounding delightful right in that moment. I was allowed another dose of Advil around 7:00 am and I used it as an excuse to pause in the new daylight. We changed my clear goggles back to the dark ones, I stretched my back and reapplied some lanolin. Just before dawn, my feeds had started to not set well in my stomach and so we had started supplementing with additional water, while I thought about if any solid foods sounded good. I’d been close to puking, but in the daylight, with several ounces of extra water in my stomach, I was no longer feeling sick and we kept with my Infinit and skipped anything solid. Though, had we had some carrots on board, I totally could have used a handful.

Feeling slightly refreshed from a longer pit stop, I put my head down and picked up my pace, charging my way toward the main body of the lake. Before long, Craig pointed out the opening to the lake, where I would then hug the left shore all the way around toward the Hoover Dam. I was somewhat surprised we were there already and for the first time I asked how much many more miles were left, expecting an answer around 16-18, based on time. At my next stop Craig told me we had 12-13 miles left to go. What a boost! My arms were feeling much better and now I could tell we were well ahead of my 30-hour estimate. I couldn’t stop smiling. I didn’t want to jinx anything because we still had hours left to go, but holy moly, we were doing it!

As we swam into the open lake, we started to see boats for the first time and as the morning progressed, there was a lot more chop to contend with. Still, conditions were near ideal and the chop wasn’t terrible.

Craig and Celeste both jumped in a few times to swim with me, I think mostly to cool off. Everyone was super encouraging that I was swimming well ahead of schedule and spirits were high. Still, I was starting to feel the heat, but I kept pushing myself to hold my pace steady. I was allowing myself slightly longer than usual feed stops with extra water, with ice!, where Craig kept me laughing every time.

The last few hours of a swim always seem to drag: You’re there, but you’re not done. Time seems to suspend itself, trickling slowly from feed to feed. I had hoped we’d be able to see the dam for a while before approaching it, but it’s down a cove and was hidden by the canyon walls, so I didn’t even have a refreshing visual to push me along.

But finally, we could see the entrance to the last canyon. Celeste pointed out the opening to me at a fed stop and I calculated we were about an hour away. I knew it was about another mile from the opening to the dam. 1.5 hours left, I guessed. I could keep going for another 1.5 hours. Even 2 seemed ok. We were as good as done. I grinned.

There were all types of boats around now, so I had to focus hard to stay close to the safety of my pontoon, which had me sandwiched between them and the shore. At the next stop, the opening was closer, but felt so far still. At the next feed, Craig let me know I had about another Chatfield to go. I popped my head up to see if I agreed- yup, looked like another 900 meters or so to the opening. We were so close. I put my head down and swam on, focusing on holding my pace and not looking up again. Before I knew it, we were into the final canyon, with less than a mile to go. We stopped for one last feed, with the Hoover Dam now looming over us, so close. Within a few minutes, I could make out the buoy line. Not wanting to cheat myself out of any of this beautiful lake, I aimed for the middle of the lake, the furthest point possible on the line, closest to the dam.

With under five minutes to go, Celeste jumped in with me, armed with a GoPro. Together, we hammered toward the orange barriers, jet skiers buzzing all around, oblivious to what I was doing. Still, I couldn’t stop smiling, grinning from ear to ear as we coasted toward the buoy line. I pulled up just short, popped my head out and BOPPED the barrier. DONE. I was hot and had swam as hard as I possibly could.  And I was so incredibly happy.

26 hours, 45 minutes, and 45 seconds.

Well ahead of schedule, with plenty of time to cruise back to our home base in the daylight (so I could see all the bits I’d missed in the dark!). After the hard experience in Japan and somewhat rough summer of training after that, this swim was everything that I wanted. It was ideal conditions, easy on the crew, and just good, plain fun. The lake was stunning and clean and everywhere we went, folks on the water were welcoming and supportive. It was the most fabulous experience and so incredibly rewarding. Truly, everything I had dreamed about for 2.5 years. Thank you, Lake Mead, for letting me share in your waters.

10/10 would recommend!

Epilogue:

After climbing up on the boat, I was immediately dizzy. Ryan and Craig melted ice down my back as we stopped at the nearby marina to refuel. Celeste provided me with a popsicle, which was the most glorious thing I’ve ever consumed. Even after the 2 hour ride back to Temple Bar, I still wasn’t feeling great. But after some help in the shower, some tacos for dinner and a good night’s sleep, I was feeling just fine the next morning.

*I need to look at the GPS tracks compared to my pre-planned route, but I think the final distance was right at 47.5 miles.*

All in all, I raised over $10,000 for Swim Across America and I couldn’t be more exited about the impact those funds will have on cancer researching and funding.