Magnificent Achievement in Difficult Conditions

13½ Hours in Water 

By W.R.F.

A new record in the chronicles of sport was set up yesterday (Thursday) when Miss Mercedes Gleitze swam across the Wash from Benington (Lincolnshire) to Heacham (Norfolk) in just under 13½ hours.

The swim is a wonderful achievement and speaks volumes for her pluck, stamina, and determination. The conditions at the outset were ideal, but as the day wore on a strong wind sprang up and the sea became very choppy. Tremendous difficulties with the tide were experienced and so strong was the current in the latter stages of the swim that Miss Gleitze battled bravely against it for four hours without making any appreciable headway.

She entered the water at ten minutes past five yesterday morning, and landed at Heacham at 6.35 in the evening. A crowd of several hundred gave her a rousing reception when she was carried out of the water.

Plummer’s Hotel, Freiston Shore, Thursday Night: When yesterday, for the benefit of the county edition of the Lincolnshire Standard, I forwarded from the stern of a little boat messages concerning the progress of the successful attempt of Miss Mercedes Gleitze to swim the Wash, the details were of necessity fragmentary. Pigeons carried the news at intervals. Tonight, however, we are back in Boston and Miss Gleitze, having achieved her purpose and created the record of being the first person to cross the Wash from Lincolnshire to the Norfolk coast, is sound asleep at the Plummers Hotel where, at the invitation of Mr A.C. Rysdale, she has made her headquarters pending the issue of her final effort today.

It will be remembered that when Miss Gleitze first came to Boston it was to face a problem which not only had never been attempted, but not considered as a likely feat by anybody. The very mention of the idea brought criticism from men who have spent their lives on the waters of the Wash. “Too many tides and currents to be considered” was one of the comments. “She will be stranded on the sands” was another. Few there were who credited the possibility of the venture, but hundreds offered advice. Pilots and would-be pilots told how it might be done when, after a couple of immersion swims, it became apparent that Miss Gleitze had the grit to stick a low water temperature for many hours.

But the very few Boston people who have borne all the expenses of the swims gained experience for themselves, and` they realised that at certain tides, different starting points must be utilised. The rushing waters of high spring tides necessitated a start from the Cut End, whilst neap tides presented opportunities to shorten the distance by starting from the mainland below Freiston. Ignoring critics, the little band of local enthusiasts determined that, with the knowledge gained in three previous swims, the Wash crossing was a possibility for a long distance swimmer, and with the object of making a determined effort under the most useful conditions a start was fixed for this morning. According last night I took her aboard the sloop Zala where lady friends made her comfortable and ensured for her a night’s sleep. She was rested, cheerful and confident when at 3.15 a.m. she made a breakfast of fried fish, coffee and bread and butter. Meanwhile aboard the motor launch Elsie, moored beside the sloop, were the officials and witnesses of what was to prove the successful venture. At four o’clock she was on deck to wish them all a cheery good morning and to embark on their craft for the point selected for the start. With Boston’s Football Club Captain (Mr George Richardson) as my assistant, Miss Gleitze was partially prepared while the Elsie steamed down towards the High Horn Buoy and there moored. Into the small boat we took her and rowed a mile to the fore-shore at Butterwick Hill, for it is essential that a shore to shore swim must of necessity be from the water’s edge.

It was an hour before the high water hour when I intended her to start and, after wading for quite 200 yards off the shore, we completed the preparation of the swimmer. Porpoise oil and good Lincolnshire lard were the cold-resisting properties we used and when these were administered she challenged George to a preliminary canter round the sand to get her circulation moving. The offer was accepted and together the twain trotted in the break of day round and round the sands for a short while. Then came a brief rest during which the first of the day’s stimulants, a cup of coffee, was taken and the swimmer was ready to start. Overnight the sea had not a ripple on it and a brilliant moon made the conditions idea. There was nothing but encouragement at 5 a.m. so far as the weather was concerned. True, there was a slight westerly breeze which rippled the water but nothing that could handicap a swimmer.

And so it was that with everything that could raise confidence, Miss Gleitze stood on the sand ready to take off. We knew that before her were to be hours of struggling against tides and currents under conditions unknown or untried, but when I told her to ‘go’ at 5.09 a.m. she entered the water with as cheery a train of mind as has any athlete about to embark on a titanic venture.

Wading back into the water she covered three hundred yards before the sea was breast high and then with a smile and a ‘Now we’re off’ she opened out on breast stroke swimming towards the Bar Buoy. In the small boat beside myself was Mr Jasper Sharpe, whose duties for the day were not easy. ‘Music, music all the time’ is Miss Gleitze’s slogan, and all the time she got it. Favourite gramophone selections of hers were hurled at her constantly, the variation being afforded by the singing of hymns and songs for which the swimmer has a specific desire. It mattered not how often during the day those songs were sung or the records repeated, but those and those alone she would have until the closing few yards of the swim – and she got them.

Progress was good at the start and maintained under comfortable conditions for at least seven hours. A temperature of 60 degrees was appreciated by the swimmer, but before two hours had elapsed the sun had disappeared and ominous clouds threatened anything. Now and again ‘Old Sol’ threw short glances between the clouds, but rain kept off. Through Freeman’s Channel we went, passing the lighted buoy at a speed representative of the swimmer’s efforts and tide of three miles an hour, and soon we had the distance to the outer Freeman’s Channel buoys covered. Passing fisherfolk and a steamer signalled their well wishes as, heading eastwards, we encouraged the swimmer towards the Roaring Middle Buoy. As we went along she chatted joyfully of the speed of our advance. To her at that time there was not the slightest discomforture. She fed with delight for she was hungry, a sign of the greatest encouragement to those who were watching her.

Soon we sighted the Roaring Middle Buoy and our course was set to pass that sea mark on our southern quarter. Quite a mile above it we did leave it and then headed on towards the Lynn Well lightship, but aiming to the southward of the craft more towards the direction of the Hunstanton lighthouse. We were two miles from that point when the effect of the afternoon flowing began to have its effect. One fear alone came to the minds of onlookers: would she be capable of crossing the tide sufficiently effectively to keep well within the Sunk Sands Buoy? To fail in that would have ended in the swimmer being taken by the tide right down the Lynn Deeps. 

A word of encouragement to her and she set her teeth to master the effort. To add to the task the wind veered from the west to north-east and blew behind the tide. It was lucky that it did follow the tide, for almost in five minutes the sea was boiling so much that our small boat had to part company with the parent ship. Happily I had been able to feed her with the only solid diet of the day just before this contingency occurred. A little delicacy in the form of cold roast duck became her fancy when she knew that one of the officials was in possession of such a tasty repast, and quite willingly she had opened her mouth alongside the boat to enable me to drop the food into her mouth without touching her. We still had her liquid food, hot in vacuum flasks, but so bad the seas became that for two hours she had to go without any. Yet that factor had its compensations, for although she was surging through surf-topped water, she was steadily gaining ground towards the inner side of the Sunk Sands Buoy, albeit drifting towards Lynn.

Eventually we passed inside the Buoy, leaving it 500 yards in our rear. When I explained our hopeful position to Miss Gleitze, renewed energy was put forward. With her eyes peering at the Hunstanton water tower she kept her mind on that as an idea spot to get ashore, but for the greater part of four hours that tower kept its distance. The fact was that she was facing the difficulty of crossing a strong tideway running obliquely from the Lynn Well lightship to King’s Lynn and all the while being tossed about like a cork on the frothy waves over the Sunk Sands.

At half-past four we were in smoother water, but the sets of currents became almost beyond understanding. For five minutes the tide would be with her, then against her; it would next carry her east, and again west, but thanks to the cooperation of Mr A. Broughton and the pilot, Mr Lovelace, these were negotiated, and at half-past five we were little more than a mile from the shore. Crowds were collecting on the beach, but the swimmer had had a harassing time fighting the tides and rough sea with the result that her progress was slow. However, music came to the rescue once more and this, aided by the encouragement of the crew of the large boat and another little drink of hot coffee, brought her fighting spirit back.

She was going to succeed! That was quite apparent, and whilst encouragement from the small boat urged her on, she responded in a manner which spoke volumes for her wonderful will power. Thirteen hours she had been in the water when we were 400 yards from land. The Hunstanton and Heacham coasts were alluring, the enthusiasm of the increasing crowds ashore was becoming distinctly audible to the swimmer, who pleaded for music, more music to help her in the last stride. We sung with what little musical ability there was left and advised her in song to “Pack up her troubles in her old kit bag”. She did so and struck out with her few remaining ounces of strength. Meanwhile officials from the larger boat took the small boat ashore and persuaded onlookers to keep clear of the water’s edge at the possible landing place.

Coaxed along to the water’s edge she was swimming blindly until the last twenty yards and then she made a short final burst. Out of the accompanying boat we jumped and I waded beside her to the water’s edge. She touched – but then she was not out of the water. The thirteen hours and sixteen minutes of hard swimming had rendered her muscles unresponsive to any other action. The waves lapped the beach around her and by forcible vocal urging I persuaded her to drag her weary body on to the dry small shingle. She did so and immediately we took her now prostrate form first into the little boat and then to the larger one. We had landed on Heacham beach close to the car park. 

The Elsie was put under weigh immediately and before we reached Hunstanton pier some two and a half miles away she was herself again. Indeed, so wonderful was her power of recovery that she regained her self-possession in ten minutes. Quickly she responded to respiration efforts, and ten minutes after we cast anchor twenty yards from Hunstanton pier, she was ready to go ashore. Preparations were made for her reception at the Golden Lion Hotel, where a hot bath awaited her. On the pier, however, were the Chairman and Clerk of the local Urban District Council waiting to give her an official reception, and it was to the surprise of everyone that she walked slightly aided up the pier to meet them. 

Hundreds of people cheered and applauded as she walked up the whole length of the promenade pier where Mr Rysdale’s car was waiting to take her to the hotel. At the door entrance two little girls waited with bouquets of roses, which Miss Gleitze smilingly accepted. Then came her refreshing bath, a slight rest followed by some massage. It was light enough for photographs when she eventually appeared on the hotel lawn to be photographed with those who had witnessed her swim.

Another brief rest, a short meal, and home to the Plummers Hotel she was brought. It was a tired little woman who went to bed at 11.15 p.m., but she did so with the proud knowledge that she was the only person who had ever swum the Wash. Her last words before retiring were of thanks to those who had seen her through her ordeal of the day and helped her by their attention.