57-year-old Herman van der Westhuizen became the second swimmer from South Africa (after Cameron Bellamy) to achieve the Oceans Seven. The Madswimmer started his adventure across the English Channel in 2012 and finished in Morocco across the Strait of Gibraltar 11 years later:

• 2012: English Channel between England and France in 11 hours 25 minutes
• 2017: North Channel between Scotland and Northern Ireland in 12 hours 30 minutes
• 2019: Catalina Channel between Catalina Island and Palos Verdes Peninsula in California in 12 hours 3 minutes
• 2019: Tsugaru Channel between Honshu and Hokkaido in northern Japan in 10 hours 22 minutes
• 2022: Molokai Channel between Molokai Island and Oahu in Hawaii in 15 hours 4 minutes
• 2023: Cook Strait between North Island and South Island in New Zealand in 8 hours 27 minutes
• 2023: Strait of Gibraltar between Spain and Morocco in 3 hours 32 minutes

Between his first Oceans Seven swim across the English Channel and his second OC crossing of the North Channel, he took a little ice swimming detour and dabbled in Ice Kilometer swims. The first was in Lesotho where he swam a 19 minute 21 second 1000m freestyle in 4°C. The second was at the 2nd Ice Swimming Aqua Sphere World Championships where he dropped his time to 14 minutes 59 seconds in colder water (3.4°C) and much colder air (-11°C) temperatures.

He also did several Robben Island swims, perimeter swims around Cape Point, and participated in a number of ocean events throughout his native South Africa with the usual cast of characters from Ram Barkai to Ryan Stramrood. 

Tackling the Tail of the Dragon

As usual, his Oceans Seven journey was never easy. His escort mate Shoeman Du Plessis recalled after his Tsugaru Channel crossing, “It was a [total of] 33 kilometers of swimming that Herman successfully completed in about 10 hours. The conditions at sea were treacherous – high winds, rough seas and strong currents. He started 11 pm at night and finished 9:30 am in the morning. It was a terrible night for me on the boat, falling all over the deck, feeling seasick and going through 2 thunderstorms, so imagine what it must [have been] for him swimming.”

Herman recapped each of his swims. His description of his crossing of the Tsugaru Channel in northern Japan was insightfully comprehensive. He wrote on his Facebook page, “The point which forms the most northern point of mainland Japan, is named Cape Tappi. Across a treacherous sea channel of 20 km wide and 200m deep lies the northern Island of Japan, Hokkaido. All the water of the Chinese Sea funnels through these two land masses from west to east, creating strong currents and eddies. In combination with the winds (the warm waters here are the birthplaces of typhoons and tornadoes), it makes out for an incredible challenge to swim across the channel. It is also a highly unpredictable channel: Conditions and currents change a lot.

The one thing that stands out to me about big ocean swimming, is the mood changes of the sea. One day the sea is flat and nature has less of an effect on your swim, the next day, it can be horrendous conditions. By virtue of the physical challenge of the swims, it is really important to get the swim done during the most favourable conditions. Although some swimmers are lucky to get near perfect conditions, it seldom happens and one often has to make the best of the slot you have. For this reason there is such a big difference in swim times: Sometimes, on the same day, a very good swimmer can have a much longer swim than a slower swimmer, by just getting caught in the wrong currents on a slightly different route. This is just one of the serious obstacles and from my experience, even more so for the Tsugaru.

Tappi means the Tail of the Dragon. Local folklore has it that the Dragon is whipping its tail and that is why the wind and currents are so strong here. I was about to find out what the Tsugaru Channel is about.

After the Molokai Channel Gods decided in July 2018, that it was not my time to enter the water (strong winds caused my swim to be cancelled), I went back to training and managed to put in decent distance and hard work. I was not keen to let 2 big swims in one year walk out on me. My training was mostly done at the excellent pool of the University of Stellenbosch. The University squad, some well-known individuals and international teams also trains at this pool. This made the long hours more tolerable, rather than doing it all alone and on your own.

My training went well, averaging 30-40 km per week and increasing to peak at 50 km. Three weeks before we left South Africa, I planned a timed 10 km pool swim and ended up doing 11 km in 2 hours 43 minutes. It was hard, but my aim for the Tsugaru was exactly that: To be able to swim 10 km in under 2 hours 30 minutes, thus averaging 1:30 per 100m, or 4 km per hour. This gave me great confidence for the upcoming swim, knowing that although the Tsugaru Channel is “only” 20 km at its narrowest point, it is notorious for being unkind to any swimmer that cannot swim for a prolonged period at close to 4 km/h. I later realised that many of the 53 successful swimmers actually had in fact one or more failed attempts behind them.

This time I had Nina, my wife, as my only support on the boat – a first for her. Neither Carl nor Stefan was available for the specific slot of my swim attempt. Nina and myself had a couple of discussions before the time about the swim and what is expected of her: Although we were both nervous, we decided to give it a go. I liked the thought of being able to take her with me: When I decided to embark on my journey of the Oceans Seven Challenge, I always said that one of my main objectives would be to make my family part of it as far as I could and this time it worked out for Nina (she is still full time involved with our 3 kids trying to keep all the balls in the air).

Anyone being a crew member on a big ocean swim knows that it is not your average Robben Island Ferry crossing. Things can be smooth, it can be rough seas, it can rain, it can be sweltering hot, it can be wet, it can be icy cold. Basically, anything can happen. On top of that it requires long hours (most of times in excess of 12 hours) of concentration to keep your swimmer in the water sustained and happy and make sure he is safe. I have seen through the years that a well-conditioned swimmer looks fine from the boat for most of the time while swimming, even though he or she will actually be struggling and fighting his own demons. It is difficult for the crew to really assess the swimmer:

Attention to small details are important: Facial expression, stroke rate, body position, small adjustments in style, psychological state, tone of voice etc. I mentioned this because in this swim I again realised how much the swimmer (at least myself) depends on one’s crew and especially the person close to you, the one that knows you and can actually assess your condition and help you to stay positive through-out. And then…they must learn to say the right things at the right times…and this differs from swimmer to swimmer! I salute all the supporting crew members out there!

The perspective from my side was that I thought the Tsugaru channel was one of the shorter ones (of the Oceans Seven). Even though Nina was not yet experienced on long swims, and might get a little seasick and might not be fully in control of the swim, I thought it would not be the end of the world and that this would be a good channel to start with. Nina was mainly worried about the sea conditions. I asked her afterwards about her experience: She said she was nervous until she got on the boat and then she calmed down. She however got severely seasick for the first 5 hours and then she found her sea feet. After that she was fine (except after the swim, she still carries the marks on her knees as a result of crawling around on deck the whole day because of the rough conditions).

Three days before we left South Africa, Carl called me. He managed to get a Japanese visa (in three days!) and would be able to support, but he had to go back to South Arica on the 20th. We were quite relieved. He joined us in Tokyo and we just hoped that the swim would happen before he had to go back.

Japan is an example for many countries in the world. The people are well mannered and law abiding. It struck me that even when there are a lot of people (14 million in Tokyo alone), the main thing that ensures a well operating community, is law, order and respect. This is basic. From here everything else flows forward. The Japanese are taught from young to be very attentive and mindful to others. They rarely get cross and if they do, they suppress it pretty well – or so it seems. It was quite interesting to observe how they operate. It is a beautiful country with great arts and crafts, culture, technology and nature. But you have to look deeper and experience the local places – see how people live and work. Only then can you feel the culture and the hearts of the people – I have mentioned previously that we sometimes have to sit still and observe more in our own lives. The Japanese are masters of this.

We decided to stay in Tokyo until we had more clarity on the weather. Tokyo is a huge, vibrant city that runs like clockwork, even with 14 million people. Everything is high quality and everything works.

September is monsoon season in this part of the world and in the week before my swim, there were 21 active typhoons or tornadoes in the area. Hong Kong Airport was closed for two days, just after we went through it. The weather was very unpredictable, even for this time of the year. I did not worry too much although I must admit getting déjà vu of the Molokai fiasco. I had Nina with me and we actually enjoyed the time together, with Carl there as well. We had a good time.

On Monday 17 September we got information that a 24-hour weather window was finally opening between two periods of strong winds. It looked like swimmable conditions from around 23:00 on Wednesday evening to about 23:00 on Thursday evening (20th). Not perfect, but doable. The bad news was that Carl would not make the swim due to his commitments in South Africa. He left on the 19th. That left Nina again as my lone support. We had to make it work. Carl told me that it would be a good experience for both of us, and it actually ended up being so. It is sometimes very good for a couple to experience something different or hard, to be dependent on each other again and to spend time alone.

We travelled with the Shinkansen (bullet train) to Aomori, the most northeastern city on mainland Japan (I have to mention that this train reaches a top speed of 320 km/h!) – a great experience. From there it was another 90 minutes to Tappi. where we met Yusuke Shimasaki, the organiser from Ocean Navi. He is a very pleasant guy and he helped us with basically everything. The first thing he asked us is if we are ok to eat raw seafood. Tappi is very small fisherman’s village. Everything here is still very traditional – they really only eat raw fish (ok, admittedly with cooked rice – sometimes). We stocked up with some more edible (sort of western style!) foods that we bought at the Supermarket about 50 km from Tappi.

Tappi Hotel is perched on a high cliff overlooking the small little harbour below with the Tsugaru Channel in the background. It was very comfortable and the Japanese style room with traditional futon made it feel quite unique and special. The views are beautiful. Hokkaido, the northern Island of Japan and our end point for the swim, is clearly visible on sunny days. Our room had a private bathroom, but many of the other rooms not. It is traditional to put on your Kimono and go the communal baths (Sentõ).

They follow a ritual at the baths, which was given to us as printed instructions, as follows: “Take off all clothes. Rinse yourself first. Relax yourself in bathtub. Scrub with soap outside the bathtub. Please rinse off al soapsuds before entering bathtub. Enjoy another good soak in bathtub. Please do not wear underwear in bathtub”. There are small wooden chairs around the tub where the scrubbing and soaping takes place – interesting.

The final call was made on Wednesday afternoon the 19th. Yusuke explained how this channel is swum and what I could expect. We met the A slot swimmer who would be in the water at the same time as myself. This was his third attempt. He already completed the Seven Summits and it was his quest to be the first person in the world to complete both the Seven Summits and the Oceans Seven. Obviously (being slot A swimmer) he reserved the most experienced captain for himself and Yusuke would also be with him.

Our crew would thus consist of myself (with absolutely no feeling of the channel), Nina (a novice with regards to support and being able to read the GPS and current predictions on the nav systems), our translator (just about his 2nd or 3rd crossing) and Captain Ito. Nina mentioned this to me, but I brushed it off. I thought we were ok.

The swim route plan was to start at a point more to the western side of the funnel that is formed by the two land masses. The initial few hours would be a hard swim west to get as far across the channel as possible before the currents suck us into the funnel.

During the evening I explained my feed plan to Nina. I deliberately reduced my packed stock of feeds to 22 as I thought that worst case, the swim would only be 10 hours, plus I packed two extras feeds, just in case. Normally there is way too much food. I stuck with my normal calculated 400-500 ml liquid per hour (I prefer to feed every 30 minutes) hour and 350-400 kCals per hour energy intake. I recently started to take a recovery shake every 2nd feed from about 2 hours onwards. It breaks the monotony of the pure sugar-based energy drinks and it has been proven to lessen muscle breakdown over this long period. Solid food consisted of Japanese white bread with thick peanut butter and cream cheese (could not get any butter or jam). This was the best we could do.

We met at 04h00 at the small harbour. It was cool and windy, but not totally unpleasant. I felt calm in comparison to the North Channel. The translator on our boat was Clinton, a very friendly young student from Malaysia. Captain Ito is a local fisherman. He cannot understand or speak a word English. The boats they use here are standard fishing boats that are smaller versions of the Chokka Boats used on the East Cape Coast of South Africa. There is a lot of space and they have the big squid lights on them, which makes swimming in the dark a little bit easier as there is a lot of light. But: There is absolutely no place to sit, except flat on the deck. As Nina would later realise, moving around on the boat in rough seas is not possible at all and she had to crawl whenever she wanted to move in order not to get flung over the low sides. After recent accidents, they are now using two escorting boats: one boat is the swim boat and the 2nd boat is the safety boat and they use this boat also to assess the current speed.

As we got out of the harbour, I could see the sea was rather unstable and not settled – typical seas that are still full of energy after high winds. Not too dangerous, but enough to make swimming difficult and I realised feedings would be challenging. I knew it would be a hard day but felt very relaxed and prepared.

We travelled west for an hour to the next Cape where the swimmers normally start. This channel can best be described as a venturi shaped funnel. Water from the Chinese Sea funnels through the two land masses of Hokkaido and Main land Japan, from west to east. At the narrowest point the current runs at 4-6 knots, that also creates eddy’s if the current velocity is high. These eddies move towards the land and can cause reverse currents from the land inwards, which complicates the swim further.

As mentioned earlier, the strategy is to start as far west as possible, swim as far as possible in the same westerly direction and try to get as far as possible across the channel before the current draws you into the venturi part. I discussed the route with Yusuke the previous day and I decided to swim hard for the first 4 hours. I did not want to end up in the strong currents in the middle – there is no way that any swimmer would be able to cross there at the predicted current speeds.

At the launch point we waited for an hour for the sea to get a bit more stable, but the wind got stronger and I got the instruction to go at around 6 am. During the time we waited, I saw that we drifted a lot – the current was already over 2 knots. This meant that to swim north west as originally planned would be very hard and probably impossible as it would then mean swimming into the swell, the wind and current.

The swim to the cliff side took me about 10 minutes in these rough conditions. For comparison, it is the same as the washing machine part of swimming around Cape point (for those that swam around one the most impressive Capes in the world). The cliff face has the same dramatic effect. The captain told me not to go near the rocks in the prevailing conditions. But I could not hear any of them. I spent the next 20minutes trying to touch the rocks underneath the cliff without getting smashed on the rocks. To put it lightly: It was not very comfortable and I had to concentrate a bit on getting my timing right with the wave sets.

I could not hear the horn that signalled the start due to noise of the sea. At this stage my crew lost compete sight of me and they had to call the other boats to look for me. Eventually I decided that it was too dangerous to keep hanging around and I started swimming out. After this interesting start that’s lasted close to 30 minutes, I was just happy to get away without damage to myself and decided to get into a fast rhythm as quickly as I could. The water was pleasant 19°C.

I don’t know if its only me, but the time to the first feed always feels long and uncomfortable. My crew got my first feed spot on, except for the fact that the rope on the bottle was too short and Clinton basically ripped the bottle out of my mouth when the boat drifted away from me in the current. I nevertheless thought that all would be good.

At 4 hours, I checked my Garmin and saw that we have covered 16.4 km: This was really good going and I felt ok, thinking that my pace was fast, but that I would soon be able to go a bit slower. We struggled with the solid feeds as my sandwiches got soaked all the time by the waves and chop, or it got washed out of the net that we used to get food to me. I could feel my shoulders and neck were taking strain due to the unstable sea. I knew that such a sea takes a lot more out of you than swimming in flat conditions, but I nevertheless kept on pushing hard. At this stage I was convinced that a sub-10 hour swim was coming and possibly 9 hours.

Nina started to get sick at around the 2-hour mark. For the next 5-6 hours she had serious seasickness, but she never missed a feed. At each feed she was there and then she would move (crawl) to the other side of the boat and throw up and lie down until the next scheduled feed. I realised this and got slightly worried about the sustainability of the situation. Clinton was also a total novice and he relied on Nina to give instructions. I am used to having my crew visible to me, and if I cant see them, I know something is happening. I was feeling sorry for Nina, but had to keep concentrating on my own swim.

At around 7 hours, the sea suddenly went flat. I stopped and asked what was going on. The sea was as flat as a mirror. This is one of the weirdest things I have experienced in any swim, but it only lasted for about 30 minutes before the sea started messing around again. This quiet period was enough for Nina to get completely over her sickness – 100% so!

At this time the currents were now also pulling us into the venturi section. Soon after this, the captain made a decision to turn left, and swim more into the current: He was afraid that we were not close enough to Hokkaido and that the increasing current speed would sweep us eastwards and away from land into the second funnel. I could feel I am working hard against the sea and the current.

I tried to estimate how long I would be able to sustain a hard swim rate. I gave myself 3 hours. This eventually became 5 hours. I was now in the water for around 10 hours and progress had become painstakingly slow. I asked Nina at every feed what is happening, but the info she got from the captain was limited. I must admit, this was the first time I felt doubt creeping in. I felt the fatigue coming. My back muscles started cramping and my shoulders were really sore. It was much worse than any other long swim – obviously the rough conditions and faster pace took its toll.

From 10.5 hours onwards I really struggled. I knew I swam too hard. However, I still thought that I would make it by just relaxing and taking it easy and by keeping on stroking – why not? I have done it before. These are critical points in extreme swims – when things are slowly going pear shaped and you have to talk really hard with yourself and stay calm – this was especially true for me here. I understood and felt the currents, but I did not get the technical feedback on what is happening around me. Now some swimmers prefer to not get any feedback and just swim. For me, getting feedback about the wind, currents, forward distance, etc is critical: Its like a lifeline. I use this to constantly assess my chances for success. As long as I moved ahead, I will most of times be able to keep on swimming for a very long time. But today nothing was forthcoming in proper clear information from the captain. Nina was 100% correct in telling me that land is now very near, but she could not know how much the current slowed us down. And I was not sure what was going on. In my mind we should have been finished already.

An hour later, It was dark. My food and drinks ran out at the last feed. Then my body started to react differently from what I was used to: The first thing that got me worried was that I suddenly ran out of breath. It felt as if I could not breathe due to my lungs not getting enough air and my throat felt constricted – sort of a panicky situation when this happens in the sea and you don’t know what is going on. I stopped, calmed down, tried to clear my throat and waited for the feeling of panic to subside. I had to do this more often. I did not attach a light beacon to me as I definitely did not expect the swim to go into the night. This was admittedly a rookie mistake, but it did not help to calm me down. Nina shouted at me to keep swimming as each time I stopped I moved out of the light and backwards. I decided to swim really slow, but could still only barely manage 50 strokes before I had to stop and gulp for air. During one stage of about two minutes of continuous swimming I could feel my arms and legs getting heavier and less powerful. I knew something was wrong but the why evaded me.

I also got severe shivers – in 19°C water, which is abnormal for me. The third thing that happened was that my bladder started to go uncontrollably. I peed more than 10 times between two feeds and suspected a problem with my kidneys. I told Nina I don’t feel well, but at this stage we were less than 1.5 km away from the land.

I kept asking her if we were making progress. The communication with the captain was still very difficult and I felt like I was going nowhere. The next hour we crept another few 100 metres closer. I could see lights of a town in the distance and obviously the boat’s lights next to me, but otherwise there was nothing – it was pitch dark. I had to rely 100% on the captain and what he told Nina. I was not sure if he was on the right track. Whether I am right or wrong, at this point I lost trust in him. That was probably my single biggest mistake. But at that stage, at the end of a long struggle, way past my breaking point, I was desperately looking for some confirmation that we were making headway and it did not come at that critical point. I think that broke my spirit. That, and my perception that we are fighting a loosing battle against the current. I also became increasingly disorientated – to the point that I found it difficult to convince myself that we were going in the right direction.

At some stage, I stopped to try and get some air in again and treaded water: But suddenly there was nothing – my legs were numb and I momentarily sank. I realised this was not good at all – I lost confidence in my body – it was not reacting anymore to what I wanted it to do. I never had this experience before. Nina saw me going under the water and she shouted to the captain to stop and take me out.

At this stage I more or less realised how close to land I was, but somehow it did not matter, it was time to let go. Then, when I tried to climb onto the ladder, I could not hold onto the rungs – my hands could grip, but there was no reaction from my shoulders and back. It was one big muscle spasm. I was disorientated and nauseous. I was shocked and relieved at the same time. I had this weird feeling of my body and brain operating in different spaces. Once the crew and Nina helped me onto the boat, I could not lift my legs or arms. They all struggled to get me dried and dressed. If remember looking at my hands and wondering why they don’t work the way I want them to. I remember that I shivered and that I had severe kidney and lower back pain. On the way back I sat next to Nina on a small white bench at the machine room of the boat. It was dark and hard and with Nina next to me I felt safe. I told her there was no regret. I knew I got out at the right time. In that situation I would not have made it. I could not help thinking of other swimmers who pushed too far, and of my friend Ryan Stramrood and how he nearly drowned and I thanked God for looking after us.

When I analysed my swim track the following morning, I realised we were much closer than what I perceived. Secondly, I saw what happened: I was struggling straight into a reverse current. I though the captain should have changed the attack angle just slightly to prevent me from swimming straight into the current that I got caught in. The current that slowed us down so much seemed to be a typical rip, water flowing parallel to the land hit a small extension, diverting some of the water back to land and then inwards to sea again. That confirmed my suspicion mentioned above. In the dark of the previous night I thought about this, but I was too disorientated and afraid that I would be pulled back into the channel: Since I had no idea of the current direction and strength, I was hesitant to interfere with the navigation and in any case, I did not have any power left to enter into lengthy discussions, which would not have helped considering that my Japanese is limited to one word – Arigato.

However, I will be an idiot to blame anybody, even myself. This is big ocean swimming defined and the swims are risky stuff. There is a reason why only 11 people ever managed to complete the Oceans Seven Challenge.

Hindsight is an easy science. What does however come out clearly for me here is that there are important considerations that would reduce the risk of a DNF, dramatically: plan better, be better informed and do a what-if analyses. This would allow the swimmer and his crew to be much more aware of what could happen and what to do when things go south. Nine out of ten times it will be over-planning, but in this swim, it would have helped. Its like extra insurance – always necessary when you don’t have it. And, I cannot help to admit it, I slightly underestimated the Tsugaru. I will never do that again and I will go back to pack more than enough food and drinks and gear for future swims.

I have always said that part of my Oceans Seven Challenge is to write candidly about my experiences. I would thus lie if I say I am not at all disappointed about what happened this year (2018) in terms of my Oceans Seven Challenge. Its not so much about the DNF swim, it’s more about the big picture. On the one hand, the journey so far has been incredible and I have seen places and met people that I would not have done otherwise, which obviously is a very enriching experience for anyone.

On the other hand: The effort in terms of preparing for theses swims while still trying to balance work, family and social life is tremendous. And its not only affecting me, it for sure affects everybody around me. It is enticing to train your body and mind and getting fit and strong enough to attempt this challenge, but the hours required are getting increasingly difficult considering my circumstances. I really have to thank Nina and the kids especially, as I can see it is not always easy for them. The same to my loyal staff at the company – thanks so much. Life is like a seesaw: If you put too much weight on the one side, the other side will flip and by pursuing this adventure, I definitely neglect some other areas. Trying to balance everything is very difficult (for me at least, where I am in my life). But I am trying hard! It remains a conflict of being 100% where I am in life and not neglecting family, friends and work too much.

Which brings me to the question of whether I still see myself completing the Oceans Seven? I would love to, but I am not going to chase it. Next year I plan to swim Catalina (a firm commitment for July), and perhaps the Strait of Gibraltar and the Cook Strait. But the last two are popular swims with limited available slots and if I’m lucky enough to get a slot, I might take it up. If I will ever get the chance to come back to Japan (Tsugaru) and Hawai for the Molokai, I don’t know, and I don’t want to think too much about it.

This then is the end of part IV of my journey. Two out of 4 attempts – not great reading… ! But yet again, I have to remind myself what Ben Swart (my friend and famous mountaineer and adventurer) always says: Its not about the summit, it’s about the journey to get there.”

Herman continued his the Oceans Seven journey again in 2019 when he headed over to the Pacific Ocean and completed the Catalina Channel in Southern California and then returned triumphantly to crossthe Tsugaru Channel in Japan. But then the COVID pandemic hit and his journey was halted once again.

Once travel restrictions were lifted, he started to travel the world again, knocking off the Molokai Channel in Hawaii, and then both the Cook Strait in New Zealand and the Strait of Gibraltar to complete the Oceans Seven at the age of 57.

Swimmers from Ireland, Sweden, USA, Great Britain, New Zealand, Mexico, Moldavia, India, Czech Republic, Australia, Germany, South Africa, Hungary, Spain, and Croatia have completed the swims:

1. Stephen Redmond (Ireland)
2. Anna Carin Nordin (Sweden)
3. Michelle Macy (U.S.A.)
4. Darren Miller (U.S.A.)
5. Adam Walker (UK)
6. Kimberley Chambers (New Zealand)
7. Antonio Argüelles (Mexico)
8. Ion Lazarenco Tiron (Moldavia and Ireland)
9. Rohan Dattatrey More (India)
10. Abhejali Bernardová (Czech Republic)
11. Cameron Bellamy (South Africa)
12. Lynton Mortensen (Australia)
13. Thomas Pembroke (Australia)
14. Nora Toledano Cadena (Mexico)
15. Mariel Hawley Dávila (Mexico)
16. André Wiersig (Germany)
17. Elizabeth Fry (USA)
18. Attila Mányoki (Hungary)
19. Jonathan Ratcliffe (UK)
20. Jorge Crivilles Villanueva (Spain)
21. Adrian Sarchet (Guernsey)
22. Prabhat Koli (India)
23. Dina Levačić (Croatia)
24. Herman van der Westhuizen (South Africa)

For more information about Herman’s open water swimming career, visit his longswimsDB here and his International Ice Swimming Association bio here.

© Daily News of Open Water Swimming

“to educate, enthuse, and entertain all those who venture beyond the shore“