Back in 1979, Michael Miller and Ian Emberson waited months to swim across the Molokai Channel. The duo waited patiently in those pre-GPS days for optimal conditions.
This is their story:
Daily News of Open Water Swimming: Why did you want to cross this channel?
Michael: There were several reasons. Since I moved to Hawaii in 1976, and had not ever done any open water swimming, my initial swim out at Makaha Beach on Oahu in 1976 was awe-inspiring. At that moment, I decided this was a passion of mine and I began a daily swim in the Pacific Ocean as a routine. Fast forward to 1978. After having hung around Ian Emberson over the past year, he asked me to participate in this new event: a roughwater swim, a bike around the island of Oahu, and a marathon run (i.e., the Hawaiian Ironman in 1978). I was not a runner, so I questioned my participation. I actually attempted to train for this Ironman, then I shrugged it off, absolutely convince then that it was a one-time thing and never going to go anywhere. I could not have been more wrong, of course.
Anyway, he had attempted Kaiwi Channel twice, coming up short both times. When he asked me to do something again, to have a go at this Molokai Channel, I was not going to make a second mistake. He is a ‘winner’, a true competitor. I like people like this. So, training out of the Outrigger Canoe Club, we began a 4-5 month training regimen. He must have bought me hundreds of meals at the Outrigger Canoe Club. I then began to realize how much I enjoyed this type of training.
Daily News of Open Water Swimming: Can you describe your crossing (e.g., time of day/night, currents, water conditions and marine life)?
Michael: We left at night close to La’au Point on Molokai. It was totally glassy conditions: it was complete calm, nary even a ripple. We hit a current off the get-go and swam 4 hours.
At daylight, we could see our starting point at La’au Point, probably swimming a mile or two in 4 hours. But we knew to keep our heads down in the water: walk in, swim across, walk out. Nothing else matters. Halfway across, we hit a nasty current, and swam another 2 hours with little forward movement. After we got through that patch, it was then off like an express towards Alan Davis Rock, off Sandy Beach.
Daily News of Open Water Swimming: What was the most difficult part of your crossing?
Michael: Sunburn the next day. We were peeling layers of skin off my back within the week. Mentally we were ready. Ian was so determined this time. Even off the start, despite knowing we had made little progress, it simply didn’t matter. Our strategy was to walk in, swim across and walk out.
Daily News of Open Water Swimming: Who was on your boat and who was your pilot?
Michael: Rick Davis and his sailing vessel, Kanaloa. I am sorry to say, I do not remember the other gentleman. We had four paddlers, each taking turns on two paddle boards.
Daily News of Open Water Swimming: What was the most memorable part of your crossing?
Michael: Sunrise, over Molokai.
Daily News of Open Water Swimming: How much did you train for this channel crossing?
Michael: 4-5 months, then nearly a one month taper, and two weeks of a DRY taper with no swimming. Ian and I agreed, “We want the water to feel good, when we get in.”
Daily News of Open Water Swimming: Can you provide photographs of your swim?
Michael: Back then, it was Kodachrome, or Fuji Film, no digital stuff, but seeing our pictures of Molokai Channel, you’d think it was a pond, it was so still.
Copyright © 2012 by World Open Water Swimming Association
That was an amazing day! Mike and Ian were such studs. I don’t think I ever saw the Molokai Channel so calm; it was like glass. Around noon, we were all a little tired and quite frustrated, sensing we had lost ground over the past hour or so. Mike and Ian were treading water, taking a break and downing some fruit cups passed down from the trailing support boat by Jeff and Teri Leicher (now the longtime owners of Jack’s Dive Locker in Kona). Paul Manaut and I were on these gigantic 16-foot Hawaiian paddleboards. Paul took charge of the moment with a very snappy and forceful pep talk, saying, “We are all going to finish, and we are all going to finish together.”
Moments later, a restored vintage airplane came screaming towards us from Oahu. Up to this point, we didn’t know anyone realized what Mike and Ian were attempting. They had been very stealthy leading up to departure, but I think some inter-island flights noticed us, and it was starting to gain buzz. Anyway, this plane began to circle us at about 3,000 feet, and the pilot performed an incredible aerial acrobatic show. I think it might have lasted 10–15 minutes. We were all stunned, taking it in. Finally, the pilot circled really tight and low above us. His cockpit canopy was open; we could see his face wearing a leather helmet, old-style goggles, and a scarf—like the Red Baron from WWI. Suddenly, he inverted the plane, threw back his goggles, pumped and raised his now inverted fist, and screamed, “Whooooooooo!” All of us in the water and everyone in the support vessels seemed to unconsciously respond by raising our fists to this guy and scream back, “Whoooooooo!” I glanced over at Mike; he had this fire in his eyes. He took a deep breath and bellowed, “LET’S GO!” And we did. Mike and Ian swam so strong after that. Even as we approached Oahu and other people came racing out in skiffs, some jumping in the water to swim alongside during the home stretch, Mike and Ian left those folks in their wakes.
We made land just north of Sandy Beach—lots of folks there, including a news crew who interviewed Mike and Ian. During that interview, one of our circle of scuba diving instructors (most of us, including Mike, were at the time) yelled out, “ZOOM!” To which Mike retorted, “SCHWARTZ!” And if you were there, you’d know what that meant.
BTW, I know Jeff and Teri took photos. They even had some blown up – poster size – and shared them later at our group watering hole in Waikiki – The Piccadilly Pub.