By Sarah Roberts

The Farallon Islands wield a sense of mystery – or you don’t even know they exist. They are hidden from San Francisco behind clouds, horizon or powerful seas. But occasionally, on a clear day, they rise on the horizon like teeth: Devils Teeth, a name given to the islands by ancient mariners. 

Amy Gubser lives in Pacifica, and the islands have been calling to her for years. 

I met Amy in 2017 and the Farallons have come up in conversation nearly every year. But something always stood in the way – weather, water temps, a global pandemic, etc. This year felt different, and in January she started assembling her support team and began training. I watched her determination and grit as she juggled commitments to swimming, work, family and friends. 

The Bay Area weather in spring can be a mixed bag from perfection to outrageous wind. All we needed was a small window of perfection. Is that too much to ask? We set a first jump date, but the weather did not cooperate. We all pivoted to the next opportunity and carefully watched the weather. Mornings would be calm, but ripping wind would come in the afternoons. As we approached the second jump date, everything seemed to fall into place. But three days before her next opportunity, the support boat had to pull out, leaving us a team with no boat. Amy reached out to everyone she knew who could help, and within one hour, she had a new support boat. It goes to show how beloved she is by her community and friends. Now everything was in place. She just needed to rest and mentally prepare for Saturday. 

At 1 a.m. on Saturday May 11, Amy and crew arrived at Hyde Street Pier in San Francisco. Amy’s crew of six – John Chapman, Abby Fairman, Kirk McKinney, Ken Mignosa, John Sims and I – boarded the “Pacific Rival.” We discussed the jump, finish, and route options with Captain Chad Dahlberg and called Vessel Traffic to alert them of our intentions. We had our work cut out for us: Nine ships were entering and exiting the Bay through the traffic lane we needed to be in for a straight shot to the Farallons.

After some final planning, Ken read the marathon swimming rules to the crew, and we headed to the Golden Gate. We applied sunscreen and grease to Amy and waited for a passing ship before setting her at the start just inside the Bay at the bridge. At 3:27 a.m. we said our goodbyes, best wishes, I love yous, and she jumped from the boat. The ebb tide was already ripping, and she was out the Gate and on her way. 

The fog was sitting low and thick, making visibility very limited. The lights of the Golden Gate glowed through the clouds as we got further and further away. We couldn’t see the passing shoreline except for the small flashing light of Point Bonita Lighthouse. With a 4kt ebb we were whisked away into the open ocean and away from any light. The lights on the boat started attracting large moths, and “birds” were swooping around the boat deck. We quickly realized that we weren’t seeing birds but bats! One even landed on Abby! 

The hours ticked by, and we were in a good routine. Amy fed every 30 minutes, and the crew took turns keeping an eye on her. She brought a variety of feeds to keep things interesting and to have options if a problem arose. Her base feed was CarboPro in chicken broth. She also loved canned peaches, Coke, and mashed potatoes. At each feed we would ask her if she had a craving for something next. Sometimes she would have something in mind, other times it was chef’s choice. Amy kept her wit and humor throughout the swim, cracking jokes during her feeds. 

The water was glassy and smooth for most of the swim, and the conditions were perfect. We were socked in with fog but hoped to get some sun and clear skies eventually – they never came. We were only able to monitor our progress with digital maps and GPS. We monitored Amy’s speed and tried to hold a straight course. The surface currents squirreled around, pushing us in all directions. Without a horizon or landmarks, it felt like we were in a twilight zone bubble. The view was nothing but gray. 

At 10 a.m. I got into the water to support swim with Amy when she was 6.5 hours into her swim. Jumping off the boat, the icy cold water took my breath away. The surface temperatures were reading mid- to low-50s at this time, but a foot below the temperatures were in the 40s. Every arm stroke was a mix of pleasant and frozen. I paced Amy for an hour, giving her something to sight off and companionship. We’ve swum so many hours together and all over the world. It was an incredible honor to share a small slice of this swim with her. After an hour, I got out, and she continued. Kirk and Ken also got to hop in with Amy for an hour each. Kirk provided some levity with his usual water entry, as well as Ken with his fitting “CURGLOFF!” proclamation (“The shock felt when one first plunges into cold water.”). 

We saw an abundance of wildlife. A pod of sea lions passed by porpoising in an impressive show. They paused near Amy and peeked their heads above the water like meerkats. They were curious about her and watched for a few minutes before continuing. Other pairs and pods of sea lions passed by, always stopping to check on her. A small juvenile sea lion swam around the boat, curious about us and Amy. A pilot whale was spotted to the north, a great sign that something else wasn’t lurking nearby. A few sea nettle jellyfish floated by Amy and stung her. Smacks of velella velella jellies floated along the surface.

Early in the swim, a pair of western grebes followed Amy for a few hours. Darting under the water to fish and coming back to trail behind us. With the heavy fog, the bird population was the only sign we were getting closer to the Farallons. The closer we got, the more birds we saw. Soon, vast flocks of pelicans and common murre flew by. But everyone got quiet and serious when a dead sea lion was spotted floating by.

At 3 p.m., we launched John Chapman in the kayak. We hoped this was the last few hours and we could push through the weird currents and progress steadily. Amy was pacing slightly over one mile per hour from fatigue and crabbing along the shifting currents. As the hours continued to tick by, the water and air were getting colder, and the wind picked up. With one mile left to go, Amy had a feed and, for the first time, said she felt cold. We told her to keep her stroke rate up and continue moving. She was doing great and would have one more feed before the finish. Ken took a water temp reading, 43 degrees F. We immediately worked on plans for what to give her at the next feed to help with the cold and keep her going. We told John in the kayak about the water temperature and to keep her moving and stroke rate up, no stopping.

We were closing in on the island, but the fog was still too thick we couldn’t see it. With a half mile left to go, Amy had her last feed and proclaimed, “Let’s get this done!” At a quarter mile, we finally saw the faintest outline of the island with a white haze of crashing waves on the rocks. She was so close. At one-tenth of a mile, we could finally see the buoy! A swell of relief came over the boat. We had the finish in sight. Captain Chad maneuvered the boat as close as possible. We called out instructions to John in the kayak who would take her to the finish. All crew were on deck with bated breath as she swam in the last 200 yards. We watched as each stroke splashed the surface and got her closer. After 17 hours and 3 minutes, we saw her hand reach up and touch the buoy. John raised his kayak paddle to signal victory. She made it! The first person to swim from the Golden Gate Bridge to Farallon Islands. 

Sarah Roberts is an accomplished cold-water swimmer whose achievements include to Alcatraz and from Alcatraz nearly 300 times. She swam the length of Lake Tahoe (the long way), swam the mouth of Monterey Bay, swam from Maui to Molokai, Molokai to Lanai and Lanai to Maui in three consecutive days. She swam from Ireland to Scotland, swam around Manhattan Island in New York and swam the Bay to Breakers in San Francisco multiple times.