For as long as I can remember, the phrase “escape from Alcatraz” has been shorthand for something that couldn’t be done. Or something you would die doing. Strong currents, freezing-cold water and predatory sharks were all supposed to ensure that nobody could escape from the Rock, the most famous prison in the world.
In fact from 1934, when the prison opened, until its closure in 1963 not a single inmate escaped. Of the few that tried and made it into the water, one was shot and killed, while all the others — including Frank Lee Morris, the armed robber played by Clint Eastwood in the classic 1979 film Escape from Alcatraz — officially remain “missing, presumed drowned”.
Yet there I was, treading water with Ordenes, widely regarded as America’s top open-water swimmer, preparing to embark on what I’d thought was an impossible swim. I took a few deep breaths, plunged my face into the cold, murky water and started to swim.
Alcatraz Island is a rocky outcrop in the middle of San Francisco Bay, dominated by the 1930s federal penitentiary. It looks intimidating, spooky and, yes, impossible to escape from. However, because it is only a mile and a quarter from the mainland, the US government used a mixture of half truths and outright lies to reassure the residents of San Francisco that they had nothing to fear from the likes of Al Capone, Machine Gun Kelly, the Birdman or the other murderers and madmen locked up in the middle of the bay.
Embarrassingly, the daughter of one of the prison’s guards swam the crossing a few months before it opened, followed weeks later by two local women protesting at the opening of the penitentiary. The government’s response was to establish a 300yd exclusion zone around the island to prevent anyone else attempting the feat.
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But these minor details notwithstanding, the swim remains treacherous. “The currents and the cold are the main considerations,” 60-year-old Ordenes told me over coffee the night before I was to attempt my own escape. Known as Push to his friends as a result of his ability to locate “pushes”— the currents that long-distance swimmers use to help propel them forward, Ordenes is the godfather of the Alcatraz swim.
A short, stocky man with a disproportionately large upper body, Ordenes first made the Alcatraz crossing in 1992. Since then he has made the journey 418 times and holds the world record for the number of crossings.
“If you’re not familiar with the currents you could be swept anywhere,” he said. “Even with a wetsuit it is a very hard swim for someone unused to cold water. You have to prepare tremendously.”
I’d like to say that before I flew to San Francisco I had undertaken weeks of training, swimming length after length in the pool, but due to time constraints my regime consisted of a couple of jogs around my local park and the consumption of a few extra energy bars.
But according to Ordenes even the strongest swimmer cannot outrun the bay’s currents, and many an exhausted athlete has been picked up drifting helplessly towards the nearby Golden Gate Bridge and the open ocean. “The ideal time to swim is when the tides are turning,” Ordenes said. “That gives a slack tide and you can make the most direct crossing.”
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As for the strength-sapping cold, the lowest water temperature recorded in the bay was 8C, but the average is about 10-15C, still cold enough to induce hypothermia in the uninitiated if they are not wearing a wetsuit. Unless you are used to such cold (and prisoners weren’t) attempting the swim without a wetsuit could be fatal.
The cold, however, was not my main concern. What about sharks? “Sixty years ago there were big sharks around the island, but since then so much silt has been carried down from the mountains and covered the bottom that there are no man-eaters here,” said Ordenes casually. “There are some leopard sharks, but they are very small and not going to bite anybody.”
Back in the water and the chill is beginning to penetrate my wetsuit. For the first few hundred yards I imagined I was front-crawling my way to freedom, leaving brutal guards, bad food and a cold, damp cell behind. But in the wetsuit my arms tired more quickly than I expected, and as my breathing started to get shallower I trod water to catch my breath. I had been swimming for about five minutes and seemed to have gone nowhere.
The average time taken to swim from Alcatraz is 40 minutes (although Ordenes has done it in 23 minutes), but I wasn’t worried about time; my goal was just to make it. I lay on my back, kicked my feet and starting swimming backstroke.
The current, despite being at its weakest at 8am that day, was still carrying me off course and towards the bridge — and the open sea. I looked at the fading moon to try to keep a steady course but it disappeared behind a cloud and suddenly every shadow had teeth.
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It is a strange feeling knowing that panic is setting in. You realise what it is and tell yourself what is happening, but you can’t stop the rising feeling of helplessness and dread. No matter how many times I told myself that the support boat was somewhere behind me, I still felt alone and — literally — out of my depth. People had died doing what I was doing, after all.
What if the safety boat didn’t spot me and I was dragged out to sea — yet another Alcatraz victim? All the cheap wisecracks about following in Clint Eastwood’s wake didn’t seem so funny now.
Eventually, my head, hands and feet numb, I turned in the water and signalled to the boat. A couple more strokes to get to the ladder and I bowed out with as much grace as I could muster.
“Okay, now we will begin to swim,” Ordenes shouted cheerfully from the water as I sat panting and shivering.
“I’ve pulled people out a lot sooner than this,” said Rick Weber, the boat’s captain. “You made it half way, which isn’t too bad.” I don’t know whether that was true but it was nice of him to say it.
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Back on dry land my confidence miraculously returned and I told Ordenes that I would be back next year to try again, when the water was warmer and I’ve had a chance to work on my stroke and my stamina.
“I’ll be here,” he said, admitting that he can’t live without his frequent all-weather no-wetsuit swims to and from the notorious island. “I’ll still be doing this when I’m 70.”
For some people there really is no escape from Alcatraz.
Now get yourself into prison
Colditz
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The ultimate second world war prison stands on a cliff above the German town of Colditz. It features an escape museum and tours. Visit www.colditz.de or www.schloss-colditz.com
The Hohenwerfen Fortress
Famous as the backdrop for the film Where Eagles Dare, the fortress is 25 miles south of Salzburg, Austria. Used as a jail in the Middle Ages, it runs tours of the cells. Visit www.salzburg-burgen.at/en/werfen/index.php
Robben Island
A place of exile for 400 years, its most famous inmate was Nelson Mandela. Ex-prisoners now give tours. Visit www.robben-island.org.za
Devil’s Island
Located off the coast of French Guiana and in service as a jail until 1946. It was the subject of the book and film Papillon. Tourists are not allowed on the island but you can see the prison facilities on nearby Royal Island. Visit www.worldtravelguide.net for information