Roberta feeding me during the race with very calm sea
Photo courtesy of Il Mattino, Napoli, Italy
Campionato Mondiale
Nuoto Gran Fondo
(Long Distance Swimming World Championship)
The World Professional Marathon Swimming Federation (WPMSF) utilized a series of races around the world to determine an annual male and female “professional marathon swimming world champion.” There were typically five to ten annual races included in the world championship series.
The Capri to Naples marathon swim across the Bay of Naples started in 1954 and was organized by Lello Barbuto, sports editor for the Naples newspaper Il Mattino, and sanctioned by the International Long Distance Swimming Federation (which I had never heard of) and the WPMSF. I had heard about the race from the other swimmers, but everyone had been fairly quiet about who to contact and how to enter with James Kegley and me during our first two years on the marathon swimming circuit. We had been winning several of the races, especially warm-water ones, which this would be. And heck, I wouldn’t have wanted us to come race there, either, if I were them.
In 1982, Lello invited me to compete in the July 4 Capri race for the first time, and despite the limited prize money I accepted. Since inception, the race had been dominated by swimmers from Egypt, Syria, Italy, Yugoslavia, and Argentina. Only one American man had ever won the race, John Kinsella in 1978. Three USA women had won, Greta Anderson in 1959, Diana Nyad in 1974, and Tina Bishoff in 1980 and 1981. Not such a good historical showing from Team USA men compared with the North American races.
When I arrived at the Napoli airport, Lello and his sixteen-year-old daughter Roberta were there to greet me. I was exhausted after 20-plus hours of flying from California and very pleased that the Barbutos were there to meet me. Roberta was a godsend as she spoke excellent English, which was important since Lello spoke little, and I spoke no Italian. The June weather was hot and humid and comfortable for me, but not for Lello, who clearly didn’t enjoy the heat in his business suit and tie.
We drove through the craziest traffic that I had ever experienced, our chauffer acting like a race-car driver speeding and weaving through cars on the way to the event headquarters. Traffic lights are merely a suggestion on the streets of Naples, and the most brazen drivers gained the advantage. Being in the car witnessing the most bizarre scene of swearing, honking, and gesturing (which I’m sure were not kind) I had ever witnessed, caused me to start feeling the heat, too, and I couldn’t wait to be out of the car.
As we drove through the city I couldn’t help noticing the devastating destruction of many structures. Roberta told me how the major earthquake in November 1980 had caused horrific damage to the city and loss of lives throughout the region of Campania. The damage was still clearly evident, with scaffolding on numerous buildings. Rebuilding was going to take years.
We finally arrived at the race headquarters, located in a city park across the street from the Bay of Naples and where the race would finish. As I looked out over the bay I was in awe of the huge mountain that dominates the eastern skyline, Mount Vesuvius. Wow, she is impressive and frightening at the same time. Her last eruption was in 1944, but she is still considered one of the most dangerous volcanoes in the world, with 3,000,000 people living in proximity to her power.
Mount Vesuvius is best known for the eruption in AD 79, which unleashed one of the largest volcanic explosions in European history. The towns of Pompeii and Herculaneum, with 15,000 to 20,000 inhabitants, were buried under the ash.
The city of Naples was unlike anywhere that I had ever been—crowded and noisy, and the people seemed to be on edge, “yelling” and enthusiastically gesturing at each other on a regular basis. Having never been to Italy, I wasn’t accustomed to the raised voices and hand waving that I was learning are just part of normal conversation. Welcome to Italy.
Naples is where pizza is said to have been invented, and you can see 2,000-year-old ovens in Pompeii that look just like the brick pizza ovens built today. These were probably used to cook flat breads like focaccia, as tomato wasn’t added to pizza until the late 1800s. Swimming burns a lot of calories and I was sure looking forward to trying some of their renowned specialty pastas and pizzas.
The Bay of Naples is part of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which stretches along the west coast of Italy from Corsica to the north and Sicily to the south and is a part of the larger Mediterranean Sea. The swimming race would be about 20 miles from the Isle of Capri to the shore of Naples, finishing just west of the beautiful Castel dell’Ovo (Egg Castle).
After a few formalities at the office, and a small amount of expense money to cover meals during the week, the three of us set off across the bay on a hydrofoil ferry boat to Capri. As the huge turbine engines started to roar, the boat picked up speed and was lifted out of the water by the foils under the hull. The trip from Mergellina Marina to Marina Grande in Capri took less than 40 minutes, as the boat cruised along at speeds above 30 miles per hour. This would be the same route that I would swim in a few days for 7 hours or so, depending on weather conditions.
The bay was beautiful, with the mountains to the east, the Amalfi coastline and Capri to the south, and the islands of Ischia and Procida covering the northwestern edge. As we approached the Isle of Capri, I could see the craggy and rocky shoreline with incredible limestone cliffs rising out of the sea for over 1,000 feet. The sheer walls a tapestry of slate, sepia, and sand colors, and rising into a mountain peak of 1,900 feet at the Monte Solaro summit.
As the ferry pulled into the picturesque Marina Grande harbor I could easily tell we were not in Naples anymore. Tourists from all over the world were bustling about the harbor, queuing up at Motoscafisti for boat rides to the famous “Grotto Azzurra” (Blue Grotto) or around the island tours. The locals quickly jumped on the Funiculare (tram), which lifts passengers from the harbor to the Capri Piazza, small red buses, or sped away on their mopeds.
The bustling harbor was filled with small fishing boats painted in vibrant yellows and blues, rigged with netting and gear, along with the larger personal yachts, ferry boats, and island tour boats. All this set against the backdrop of historic residences, villas, and hotels was stunning and I loved the feelings and aromas. Growing up boating in Florida, the smells wafting from fishing and boat fumes in the marina made me feel right at home. Small cafes and tourist shops surrounded the harbor and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves—what a different vibe than in Naples.
At the end of the harbor dock taxis were waiting to take us up to the top of the island. These were the most unique-looking convertible cars I had ever seen. They had blue-and-white or red-and-white striped fabric awning canopies that served as the car’s “roof,” and the two bench seats all faced each other—so unique. The drive took us up a very narrow winding stone streets lined with rock walls. These small roads had originally been built for small wagons and now there was just enough room for two cars to slowly maneuver past one another with great care. (Definitely not a time to have your elbow hanging out of the window.)
There are no cars allowed in the Capri city center and we walked from the taxi stand through the historic piazza and down narrow cobblestoned pathways to my hotel, La Rezidenza. After checking in to the hotel, Lello and Roberta told me about the prerace meeting and then had to go back to Naples. Even though I was sad to see them leave I had learned a lot about the race history and seen enough of Capri to know that I was glad to have come. It is truly a magical place.
At night, people wander around the streets to visit, shop, dine, and finish off the evening with a glass of wine or gelato. I quickly discovered the most amazing gelato I’ve ever tasted at the Buonocore Gelateria, just down from the piazza. Enjoying a just-baked waffle cone slathered with freshly made strachiatella (chocolate chip) gelato every day got me race ready.
In the mornings the swimmers who had already arrived for the race gathered for an ocean training swim together, and I looked forward to this. The only problem was that I couldn’t sleep due to the time change and was waking up at around noon every day, missing the swim. This was not the best way to prepare for the race in a few days. I knew that the most important thing was to get enough sleep, rest, and fuel. So I focused on sleeping when I could, swimming in the sea to acclimate to the water conditions, and eating the delicious foods of Capri.
On one afternoon swim I was stung on my left forearm by the tentacles of either a Portuguese man o’ war or poisonous jellyfish. I had been stung many times by jellyfish in other ocean races and in training, but nothing like this. The sting made me immediately nauseous and I had to leave the water right away and lie down. My arm was on fire with the poison injections from the tentacles that had wrapped around my arm three times. The only thing that I knew to do was rub gel from aloe vera leaves on the wound. Thankfully these succulents grew abundantly on the island. Hopefully this would be the only incident, as I would never be able to finish a marathon swimming race after such a sting.
Besides this one unfortunate incident, swimming in the waters around Capri is the most breathtaking experience for an open water swimmer. The water is sapphire blue with visibility that seems infinite. The beaches are made up of rocks smoothed by years of pounding waves, along with rounded pieces of ancient terra cotta pottery; there is no sand to murky the water.
Swimming from the Marina Grande beach, north along the limestone cliffs, there are times when I felt like I was flying. Huge boulders that had fallen down from the mountain would suddenly rise up in front of me and there would only be two feet between the rock and my body. Moving over the rock made me feel like I was swimming fast and then unexpectedly the rock would stop, and I would be looking into the dark, blue abyss, giving this unusual feeling of “flying.” The sheer limestone cliffs tower over 1,000 feet above the sea and continue down into what seems like infinite depths of water as I look down into nothingness; here be sea monsters! I hoped not. What an incredible place to be. I wonder what the apostle Paul would have thought about Capri as he sailed past on his way to Rome via the port of Puteoli (modern-day city of Pozzuoli), located on the northwest section of the Bay of Naples. He would have seen what Mount Vesuvius looked like before the eruption that was about to come.
One day I did get up early enough to swim with the other athletes, and we swam 1½ miles (about 30 minutes) down to the famous Blue Grotto. Along the way I tasted sweet, fresh water coming out of the cliffs and stopped to investigate. There was a narrow passage in the rocks that I squeezed through, and inside was a small cave with a fresh-water spring. The opening I entered through had the rusty remnants of an old iron gate to keep people out, and there was another small opening at the top of the cave. Back outside I noticed that there was a very narrow pathway coming down the side of the sheer cliff, and I could only imagine slaves during Roman rule navigating down this precipitous path to fetch precious fresh water for their island rulers. From AD 27 to his death in AD 37, the Roman emperor Tiberius governed the empire from Capri and built Villa Jovis, whose extensive ruins are still standing today for easy exploration and stunning, unobstructed views of the Amalfi Coast and surrounding seas.
Continuing on our journey, we swam through the small opening into the Blue Grotto, and once inside I was amazed by the beauty of the light filtering through the emerald-blue water and shimmering and dancing shadows of azure hues all over the walls of the large grotto. Such a beautiful sight, something I could only imagine in a dream, or what heaven may look like.
The sunlight primarily enters the cavern through a large opening underneath the water, where it reflects off the white sandy bottom. As we swam, the disturbed waters around our bodies turned into a glistening silver, something I had never experienced before. Another truly magical Capri moment and a must-do experience for anyone visiting the island.
The prerace meeting arrived before I knew it, and after listening to the formalities of the competition there was a drawing for each swimmer’s boat pilot. Having an experienced boat pilot in the open sea would be key for me to finish well. When my name was called, the boat pilot selected for me was Giuseppe “Peppino” Vuotto. Peppino had grown up on Capri and was a Blue Grotto and island tour boat pilot with the Motoscafisti group, just like his father, and owned his own boat. Peppino was about ten years older than me and spoke at least five languages that he used daily with the island’s international tourists. He reminded me of the American actor Robert Conrad with his rugged seafaring look, dark- brown hair, blue eyes, and bronze skin from working in the sun every day. His boat was about 25 feet long with a center console and inboard engine. The propeller was underneath the boat, which made it very safe for escorting swimmers.
Peppino and I got along well immediately, and I really liked that he knew the local sea so well and was also an avid fisherman. He also had experience escorting swimmers in prior years’ events and made me feel very confident for the competition. Despite never helping in a marathon swim before, Roberta Barbuto agreed to help feed and communicate with me about what would be happening during the crossing. I felt that we made an excellent team and looked forward to the race.
When I arrived at Marina Grande on race morning I was surprised to see the beach packed with fans, media, dignitaries, politicians, prior race winners, and athletes. Within a few minutes of being surrounded by all of the commotion, I quickly retreated to Peppino’s boat, which was a few hundred feet away from the beach, in the harbor, for a little peace before the race. Peppino, Roberta, and I went over the feeding schedule and made sure everything was ready for the day. Peppino’s nine-year-old daughter Alvina joined us, too, for the experience.
All of the swimmers were required to be at the beach and getting ready 30 minutes before the start, and for photographs. Roberta rubbed the lanolin around my neck and under my arms to protect me from saltwater chafing and then had to leave to board Peppino’s boat.
The water was around 80 degrees and the air still; it was going to be a hot and humid day. With no wind the sea was glassy and the only disturbance were waves caused by the ferry and race escort boats. Ideal racing conditions.
Twenty-three competitors from twelve countries were on the beach this morning, hoping to complete the challenge of crossing the Bay of Naples and win the world championship race. There is always so much that can go wrong over 7 or more hours and I was my usual nervous self at the start. After a few speeches from the officials and dignitaries we entered the water and waited for the start. I had a few minutes before the starter’s pistol would sound and swam around the start line to loosen up and keep my nerves in check.
This was the beginning of my third summer on the professional marathon swimming racing circuit and I knew most of the other athletes. Claudio Plit from Argentina was going to be the biggest challenge, as he had won this marathon the last three years and competed five times in the race since 1973. Last year’s race was shortened and swum in the Naples harbor due to extremely rough conditions. The seas were too dangerous for the smaller escort boats. Nothing like this year’s conditions.
There were also new faces from Italy, Egypt, Syria, and Yugoslavia that I had not competed against and knew from training swims that they were fast swimmers. Today my race strategy was to set an early fast pace and see how everyone else would respond.
The starter’s pistol finally sounded and we took off out into the sea. The usual chaos of the swimmer, official, media, and spectator boats all wanting to be in the same location ensued. I had seen Peppino’s boat from the beach and headed directly for him, ignoring all the mad splashing around me.
Peppino and I had practiced during the week the pace that I wanted to swim, how rapidly we would feed, and my location alongside the boat. The boat was right where I wanted it on my left side and near the midpoint of the hull. I immediately established a fast rhythm of 84 strokes per minute and could easily see Roberta and any messages she might write on the dry erase board.
Within minutes of swimming away from the beach, the water turned a deep sapphire blue and I could see nothing below me but darkness, feeling like a bottomless pit. Visibility was over 200 feet but there was nothing to see and I was glad to have the nearness of the boat. Peppino had assured me that there were no big sharks “this time of year.” Comforting.
My rapid early pace brought me swiftly to the lead and I concentrated on nothing but breathing and pushing my stroke rate, exerting to be on the edge of my aerobic threshold, the place where there is enough blood oxygen and energy stores from my liver and muscles to sustain the energy needed by my muscles at this effort level. If I pushed too hard, blood lactate would be produced at high levels, creating an anaerobic condition, and I would have to slow down until swimming aerobically again. I felt great and pushed the pace, knowing that I was having a good day and swimming fast. Stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, breathe…holding 84 strokes a minute.
I focused on swimming as close to the boat as possible to take advantage of the “V-shaped” hull breaking through the waves. There is a “sweet spot” when swimming next to boats that are long enough, located about halfway down the hull. The bow breaks through the waves, making the water calmer for the swimmer, and the boat’s midpoint is away from the exhaust, typically at the stern. The only downside of swimming so close was that waves moved the boat from time to time, causing my left hand to whack a small metal bilge pump plate midway up the hull. A few times wasn’t a problem, but over the day, after hitting this uneven metal dozens of times, a painful wound opened up. Glad there were no big sharks around.
Out in the open sea there was nothing but the boat and blue abyss underneath me now. Then out of nowhere I was surrounded by a school of small silver fish, about 6 inches long. There were thousands of them, as far as I could see horizontally and vertically. They made room for me within their school as if I was one of them. Just as my hand was about to enter the water and would seemingly hit a small fish, they would move away just enough; we were swimming together in an amazing dance. What a breathtaking experience. I tried to take it all in while staying focused on my commitment to push the pace as fast as I could.
Music was part of every race that I did and seemed to be even more prevalent when I felt good. Typically, the lyrics of a song I had heard hundreds of times would play over and over. Today I felt so good that I imagined myself a flying fish skimming over the top of the water with Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird” guitar solo blasting through my head. I was flying high, just like the free bird. Pushing, pushing, pushing…
Roberta and Peppino were a great team, and after a few hours they told me not to worry about the other swimmers and to just keep going. We had opened up a big lead. The water was warm and now I was hot and tired, and my mouth raw from the high salt levels of the Mediterranean. This sea has one of the highest salinity levels of any open body of water due to being almost completely closed off to the larger oceans, along with a high degree of evaporation. Swimming in high-salinity water makes the swimmer’s body more buoyant and therefore faster. The downside is the excessive salt causes your mouth and tongue to swell, and if not careful with lubricants, bad skin chafing can result.
Roberta feeding me during the race with very calm sea
Photo courtesy of Il Mattino, Napoli, Italy
After 4 hours I was still swimming strongly and fast, and knew that we had a good finish in store if I could continue the pace. The entry to the finish area was clearly marked by a big buoy near Castel dell’Ovo, and it was good to know exactly where we were going; the bad news was the castle is so big we could see it from a long ways away and it felt like forever to move closer. At each 20-minute feeding, it seemed as though we had made no progress toward the towering structure, so I quit looking at the castle and just focused on Roberta, Peppino, and the side of the boat.
Nearing the finish of the race swimming by Castel dell’Ovo,
Mount Vesuvius in background
As we approached the Naples harbor the water turned from azure blue to emerald green, and then we started to see more garbage from the land. As we continued closer, the water lost the pristine visibility of Capri and turned grey and foul-smelling. (At the time of this race, the Bay of Naples was heavily polluted. Since then, a major successful cleanup effort was undertaken by the communities surrounding the bay to improve these waters. We “fish” both with and without gills are grateful.)
Closer and closer we came to the final touch pad and I continued to push my pace, keep my stroke rate above 80 strokes a minute, and focus only on the next 20 minutes. Before I knew it we were in the finish chute, completing the last 1,000 meters along the Naples waterfront promenade and past the race headquarters building where I was first introduced to this amazing race, wonderful people, and natural beauty.
When I breathed to my right I could see thousands of spectators watching along the promenade, cheering and waving Italian flags. Peppino expertly guided me to the race finish pad, which I touched with joy and relief. I swam over to thank Peppino, Roberta, and Alvina; we were all crying with joy. Then I was greeted on the dock by Lello—he was so happy! Our team of Peppino, Roberta, and me had made history that day with a new record of 6 hours and 35 minutes, beating the old record set in 1974 by more than 30 minutes. We were all thrilled, and it was very fitting for an American to win on the Fourth of July! Go USA!
Big smiles with Peppino Vuotto after the marathon finished
Plit finished second about 25 minutes back and 5 minutes faster than the old record. A great day for Claudio. Nineteen of the twenty-three swimmers were able to conquer the Bay of Naples today.
Lello had me get into an ambulance for a checkup; just a short drive to the medical facilities, about ½ mile away at the race headquarters. I thought nothing of it until the ambulance driver decided that he was in a Formula One race car and we sped off as fast as the vehicle could go. The roadway was closed but I still felt my life was in danger; it was one of the scariest 30 seconds of my life. The newspaper headlines flashed through my mind: “Capri–Napoli winner killed in freak ambulance accident.”
There is such relief after finishing a marathon swim—relief from the pain that has been nagging your back and shoulders for hours, relief to have finished an accomplishment that most people couldn’t fathom attempting, and when winning, financial relief to pay for travel and living expenses.
Peppino had to go back to Capri and was already heading home. Roberta caught up with me and I let her know that I was starving. Along with her younger brother Paolo, we headed across the street to the marina restaurant by the castle. No matter what food I would have eaten in that moment, the cantaloupe wrapped with prosciutto was the most wonderful delicacy I had ever had—cold, sweet, juicy melon, matched with the salty meat was the perfect combination. We also had fresh, home-made pasta that melted in my mouth. What a wonderful ending to an amazing day.
The next day Roberta came by my hotel and asked that I come to the race headquarters and bring the same swimwear I raced in. I thought this was a bit odd, but she told me that the Il Mattino newspaper wanted to take a few more pictures at the finish area. There was a photographer there with long blond hair who let us know what he wanted. The finish pad was still set up and I swam in several times and lifted my arms in victory, similar to the day before but without all the emotion. Hard to replicate real emotion like that. I later learned that the photographer from the sponsoring newspaper missed the finish, as no one had ever swum under 7 hours and he thought he had a lot of time. I’m glad not to have witnessed the meeting between Lello and the photographer when Lello found out what happened.
Peppino came back to Naples the next day for the awards ceremony, which was held on a big, new ferry boat. There were a lot of dignitaries and speeches, and after receiving my awards we both grew antsy and started exploring the bowels of this special vessel. We spent hours discovering the intricacies of the state-of-the-art boat, from the engine room to the pilothouse. It was a highlight of the day.
When we got back to the hotel Italy was playing Brazil in the World Cup soccer tournament. I was too tired to stay up and went to bed, and Peppino went out to watch the match. What seemed to be the middle of the night, I was awakened by honking horns and yelling; I went to the window to see what was happening. I was shocked to see the streets packed wall to wall with people and cars, and everyone waving huge Italian flags. Italy had won 3 to 2 over Brazil; this was emotional jubilation like I’ve never seen before. Men crying and carrying on with faces of disbelief. Growing up watching SEC football I had seen fanatical sports fans, but this was another whole level of emotion. The Napolitano partied through the night and it wasn’t even the finals yet. That’s what I call passionate supporters!
The journey to Italy had been much more than I expected and worth the effort to come from California. New friendships were formed that last to this day. The race record held for 30 years, until Trent Grimsey from Australia set a new record of 6 hours and 29 minutes in 2012. We will call that a good run.
Lello Barbuto continued to host the race until 1993, when he suddenly and sadly passed away. New organizers revived the tradition in 2003 and the race continues today under the guidance of the organizing committee president, Luciano Cotena. Lello’s son Paulo Barbuto is now the sports editor of the Il Mattino, and his sister Roberta lives in Florida. Peppino retired from the Motoscafisti boat group and still fishes regularly in the waters of Capri.