Jeff Miller - Sir Francis Drake Channel

Virgin Gorda (BVI) to St. John (USVI)

24.7 km (15.3 miles)

9 hours, 22 minutes on 25 May 2023

Observed and documented by Adam Thill

First

Swimmer
Support Personnel
Swim Parameters
Swim Data & GPS
Observer Log
Swimmer Statement
Photos
Video
Media

Swimmer

Name: Jeff Miller
Gender: male
Age on swim date: 62
Nationality: United States
Resides: St. John, US Virgin Islands

Support Personnel

Observer

Adam Thill

Adam is a life-long athlete, competing in triathlons of various distances, along with running, biking, and swimming races. He has directed athletic races therefore knows how to compile and apply rules of organization and participation. Adam is a certified SCUBA diver, former PADI dive instructor, and business owner.

Observer on Jeff Miller’s St. John circumnavigation swim in 2016 (ratified by MSF).

Escort Vessel

Swim Parameters

Category: Solo, nonstop, unassisted.
Rules: MSF Rules of Marathon Swimming, without exception or modification.
Equipment used: Textile swimsuit (Q-suit jammer), silicone cap, goggles (Speedo Vanquisher), wristwatch (Timex Ironman).

Rules Read & Signed by Crew

Route Definition

Body of Water: Caribbean Sea
Route Type: one-way
Start Location: Devil’s Bay, Virgin Gorda, British Virgin Islands (18.427536, -64.445827)
Finish Location: East End, St. John, US Virgin Islands. (18.343865, -64.661757)
Minimum Route Distance: 24.7 km (15.3 miles) (map)

History

Consulting media, swim clubs, and long time residents of these island communities, there is no recollection of this anyone doing this swim prior to this.

Swim Data

Start: 25 May 2023, 10:04:00 (Atlantic Standard Time, America/St_John, UTC-4).
Finish: 25 May 2023, 19:26:18
Elapsed: 9 hours, 22 minutes, 18 seconds.

Summary of Conditions

Feature	Min	Max
Water Temp (F)	82	82
Air Temp (F)	84	86
Wind (knots)	5-10	13-15

GPS Track

Trackpoint frequency: 20 minutes. Download raw data (CSV).

Click to expand map.

Speed Plot

Nutrition

The feeding plan was relatively simple as it had been tested in numerous training swims, including 4-6 hour training swims prior to this event.

Used Hammer Nutrition Perpetuem 2.0, Orange flavor. Per Hammer Nutrition website directions and conversation with Steve Born of Hammer Nutrition, two “level” scoops (46g) of powder were stored in 10 individual watertight containers. These individual containers were kept in a small cooler on the primary support kayak, along with a 2.5 gallon water container. Hourly, one of these small containers was mixed with 20-22 oz of water in a Nalgene snap top bottle. (The bottle “holds” about 24 oz of water and powder mixed so the process was “dump a small container in the Nalgene bottle, fill it with water from the container, then shake.”) The Nalgene bottle was tied to 10’ of 3/8 nylon line with the bitter end tied to the kayak. Every half hour, the bottle was raised high enough for the swimmer to see. With a minute or two of that “signal”, the kayak and swimmer would come closer (although never in contact) and the bottle was tossed to the swimmer. Approximately half of the bottle was consumed each feeding/each half hour. This was the plan, and this was what actually occurred during the swim. 18 of these “feeds” were conducted to complete the swim. One bottle, approximately 180 calories, 20-22 ounces of water were consumed each hour throughout the swim. The 2.5 gallon water container was taken to the main support vessel, Salt Shaker, when necessary for re-filling. Additionally, if needed, various soft blocks and gels were available for feeds, but were never requested and never given.

The crew and support team had their own beverage supplies, and food mostly stored on the main support vessel, Salt Shaker. They would bring some liquid and snacks in the kayaks for their personal consumption. None of these foods or drink was ever given to or requested by the swimmer.

Observer Log

Download PDF

Swimmer Statement

by Jeff Miller

The Idea

The idea to do this swim has been in my head since 2018. Often, my work would have me diving at locations where I’d be able to look straight up that channel, seeing boats sailing back and forth between Tortola and the out islands. I did some searches, and I didn’t find that anyone had attempted or completed the swim. You can say the seed was planted and continued to grow over the past few years. In the fall of 2022, I began to plan more seriously. I’m not getting any younger, so it was time to commit to this or let it go.

I wanted to use the swim to raise funds and awareness for the same two charities that I did in the Around St. John swim in 2016: Team River Runner (TRR) and St. John Cancer Fund. I knew TRR veterans always come to St. John for the annual Friends of the Park Beach to Beach power swim on Memorial Day Weekend. Their “goal” is to get Veteran’s Butts in Boats. I would need support kayakers. I thought it would be great to involve them not only in the fund raising but in participation. So, the end of May became the target date.

The Plan

I’d get in near Spanish Town, or The Baths, Virgin Gorda (VG), in the neighboring British Virgin Islands (BVI) and swim down the Sir Francis Drake Channel till I get to land in St. John. About 15.5 miles – straight line.

But, to my knowledge, no one has ever done or attempted this swim. The area is a world-class destination for yachting and boating, and I knew some swim camps that swam segments, but not the entire distance. The details were in the conditions.

Water temperature: 82-83F in May so that is good for me.

Winds: predictably, trade winds usually blow E-SE – that was good, and they would usually be in my favor, and there were plenty of websites that provided forecasts.

CURRENTS: they would be the challenge.

Currents

I eventually found surface current models on the CARICOOS website. (CARICOOS is the Caribbean Coastal Ocean Observing System. They operate a network of ocean observing assets including data buoys, coastal meteorological stations, vessels, instruments, and radars.) This group publishes a webpage that models surface current flow around Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands. Fortunately for me, the coverage area extended to the Sir Francis Drake Channel. Most people think, as I did, that the current would most always flow with the wind, from the east to the west. But, according to this website, this is most certainly not the case. The current flows with 1-2 knot strength, in all directions. (https://www.caricoos.org/currents/forecast/FVCOM/VISH/Currents)

This webpage came to be the key to understanding the magnitude and direction of surface currents in the Drake Channel. The page updates daily and provides current flow direction and magnitude model 18-36 hours into the future. This meant, I’d only know the current flow direction and strength one day in advance. That makes planning more difficult. Trying to get my crew, support boat and kayaks, customs entry and lodging, and weather all to align with only one day advance knowledge of currents would be extremely challenging.

I spent weeks trying to correlate the current patterns with BVI-based tide stations, US-based tide stations (on St. John), but had no luck. I finally had to admit that I wouldn’t be able to know the current flow more than a day in advance. I had to depend upon this website.

Safety Plan

Safety begins with my having a fantastic team supporting me.

The Team

Justin Nesbitt – Captain of the 31’ Mako, M/V “Salt Shaker”, Veteran, and Marine Safety lead for St. John Rescue

Adam Thill – MSF official positioned on the Salt Shaker to observe throughout the swim.

Jude Woodcock – crew manager and kayaker

Eric Bauman – kayaker

Lauren Byrd – kayaker and TRR veteran

Marilyn Woods – kayaker and TRR veteran

(Jude, Adam, and Eric were crew members for the Around St. John swim in 2016.)

Links to MSF Rules of Marathon swimming (https://marathonswimmers.org/rules/) were shared with all crew members in the weeks prior to the swim. All were asked to review these and ask questions. During the pre-swim briefing the afternoon before the swim, written copies of the MSF rules were passed to all crew, and each person was again given the opportunity to ask questions. At the end of the meeting, all crew members signed a line on the last page of the printed rules, attesting they had read and could “enforce” these rules during the swim.

The CARICOOS current model page would dictate what time the swim would begin. We hoped to complete the swim in daylight hours, but had clear goggles, glow sticks, cable ties as fasteners, and crew headlamps for night swimming, just in case. Justin would use VHF radio to alert vessels that approached the swim activity. Safety equipment on the boat included marine first aid kits, DAN oxygen kit, AED, backboard, neck-brace. Salt Shaker and kayaks had appropriate US Coast Guard life jackets and whistles.

Tracking

Documenting the swim for MSF ratification means charting our course. I used my iPhone which was connected to an external portable battery supply to connect to the Traccar Client Servics website. International data roaming had been turned on since most of the swim was in BVI waters using BVI cell service providers. A Garmin Edge 530 was the primary on-board tracker, with a Garmin Foretrex 401 and InReach being used as backup devices. All devices were stored in zip lock bags, then wrapped in a small towel (for sun protection) and placed in a dry bag. This dry bag was considered essential swimmer equipment (same as the swimmer feeds, water, waterproof observer logs etc..) and kept in the primary support kayak. All tracking was enabled on the beach approximately 5 min prior to the swim start.

Feeding

The feeding plan was relatively simple as it had been tested in numerous multi-hour training swims.

Hammer Nutrition Perpetuem 2.0, Orange flavor was to be used. Per Hammer Nutrition website directions and conversation with Steve Born of Hammer Nutrition, two “level” scoops (46g) of powder were stored in 10 individual watertight containers. These individual containers were kept in a small cooler on the primary support kayak, along with a 2.5-gallon water container. Hourly, one of these small containers was mixed with 20-22 oz of water in a Nalgene snap top bottle. (The bottle “holds” about 24 oz of water and powder mixed so the process was “dump a small container in the Nalgene bottle, fill it with water from the container, then shake.”) The Nalgene bottle was tied to 10’ of 3/8 nylon line with the bitter end tied to the kayak. Every half hour, the bottle was raised high enough for the swimmer to see. With a minute or two of that “signal”, the kayak and swimmer would come closer (although never in contact) and the bottle was tossed to the swimmer. Approximately half of the bottle was consumed each feeding/each half hour.

Swimmer Narrative

I had hired Chris Parker, a meteorological consultant, to provide his professional assessment of the best weather for swimming within my weather window. His information arrived on Sunday May 21^st^ that suggested Wednesday (May 24^th^) and Thursday (May 25^th^) would be the best weather opportunity to swim.

“Here’s a weather assessment for your upcoming swim:
There is a nasty TROF extending generally from the E Caribbean to W of Bermuda, supporting SE winds/seas in the Virgins, along with periods of squalls.

Gradient winds are fairly mild on Wed24 (mostly SE, about 10k, maybe less). Only a few stray squalls. Seas in the Ocean 4-5'/8secENE.\

Thu25 is slightly stronger ESE@10-13, Only a few stray squalls. Seas in the Ocean 4'/8secENE.

Fri26 may be similar to Thu25, but possibly stronger, E-ESE@10-15, Only a few stray squalls. Seas in the Ocean 4'/8secENE.

Everything after Fri26 is much worse, with E winds 15k+.

So, it would seem the best day to make your swim is Wed24, but if an ESE wind / wind-chop is better than a SE wind / wind-chop, then Thu25 could be at least as good as Wed24.

One TRR crew member wasn’t arriving on-island until Tuesday (5/23) so it was decided to target Thursday (5/25) for the swim.

Wednesday, May 24, 2023

All personnel and swim gear and kayaks were loaded onto the M/V Salt Shaker at mid-day and we traveled to Road Town Tortola to clear customs. When we arrived at our friend’s house, our accommodations for the evening, I anxiously checked in on the CARICOOS current webpage. It had not updated since Sunday (5/21). Finally, at 5:00pm the night before the swim, the website updated to show its models for the day of the swim.

According to the model forecast, for most of the day and through most of the Drake Channel, currents were flowing N-NE which was against our direction of travel (I was swimming W-SW). About mid-morning, the currents were predicted to decrease in strength, so we decided to wait until 10:00 am to start. The swim path was to stay away from the middle of the Channel. I’d aim towards the northern tip of Cooper Island, then head towards Salt Island. There was an open stretch of almost 3 miles between Salt and Peter Island where the currents were predicted to be highly variable. At least they weren’t strongly against us, so that was good. We’d hope to get in the lee of the predicted SE wind and current swimming the two miles along Peter Island. After which we’d hope to get a downwind and down current push in the last 3+ miles to St. John east end.

Once the plan was made, we had all hands pre-swim brief. MSF rules were discussed, and all agreed they understood and could conduct the swim within these rules and the spirit of marathon swimming. Jude, Eric, and Adam were with me when I did the 2016 Around St. John swim. Adam was the MSF observer for that swim. Justin has captained for crossings (paddling etc…) in the Molokai Channel. Lauren and Marilyn were new to marathon swimming. Everyone made sure they were comfortable with the plan and understood what was taking place.

Thursday, May 25, 2023

The start

As we boated from Tortola up the Virgin Gorda, I was admiring the amazing scenery, and weather/sea conditions: winds <10kts, seas 1-3’. I had received one more email from Chris Parker with the most recent wind and seas forecast:

8AM depart Virgin Gorda: 120-150@6-10g13k Seas 2-4'/5-8secE-SE; Stray squalls under 20k.
10AM approaching Mile 4 off NE Cooper Isl: 120-150@5-10g12k Seas 2-4'/6-8secE-SE; Stray squalls under 20k.
1pm approaching Mile 8-9 off Peter Isl: 130-150@6-10g12k Seas 2-4'/6-8secE-SE; Mostly dry.
3pm near mile 12 off the NW point of Peter Isl 130-150@5-10g12k Seas 2-4'/6-9secE-SE; Mostly dry.
5-6pm arrive in East End St John: SE@5-10g12k Seas 2-4'/6-8secSE; Mostly dry.

As we approached The Baths, and Devi’s Bay, one of the first things I realized was navigating was going to be more challenging. Looking at islands and points of land on a map, everything is distinct and well defined. Looking down the channel, over a flat horizon, island in the foreground blend into islands in the background. There is some confusion on which “point” of land, or which hump is what island. It was a bit confusing, but I was confident the Team would figure it out.

I remember seeing the beauty of the enormous granite boulders, but there was so much going on, I couldn’t dwell on them. At 9:45am both double kayak teams and I paddled the ~250m to the beach. Tracking was turned on the GPS devices. At 10:04am, with a wave of my arms to signal to Adam on the power boat, I walked from dry sand into the water and began. Jude and Eric were in the primary support kayak, Lauren and Marilyn in the second double kayak. There were approximately 10-15 tourists beginning their guided tour of the boulders adjacent to these beaches, and 2 snorkeling in the water as I began. They paid no attention to us.

So, the swim began simply by walking into the water. I just wanted it to be like any other of the thousands of swims that I’ve done. I don’t think of the distance, the goal, the adventure…. just started swimming in the warm clear tropical waters and bright sunlight (the water was comfortable 82-83F). I could feel the surge of the water that I encountered on the beach. I looked at the enormous boulders that make this part of Virgin Gorda so unique. Visibility was good and as I swam out of the bay. I saw some fish, coral, and then as I swam into the more open water of the Darke Channel, the bottom soon faded away and the wind and wave chop picked up. I breathe most comfortably to my left, but also veer naturally a bit to my left. I’d worked on bilateral breathing for just this swim and was able to breathe on both sides. I did that for a while, alternating…. that felt good. But I knew that as I became tired, I reverted to dominant left side breathing. Given the wind and current today, that meant breathing into the wind and wave chop – so be it.

30-minute segments

The swim rapidly settled into a series of 30-minute segments. The bottom was too deep to see, the south islands too few and far away to focus on, and the main island of Tortola too far to my right (north). It was fun: the sun was high overhead and with good water clarity, I could see my “shadow” below me. Usually, when I train, I swim nearshore in shallower water, so I don’t get to see my shadow. But now, it looked like it was 20-30’ below me. And we’d get to spend the day together. Sargassum floated by, and there were occasional small rafts of this seaweed, however it was not terribly abundant, not a problem. I was able to swim under some of the larger mats when I noticed them in my path.

The feeding plan was ½ bottle of prepared Perpetuem every 30 minutes. The primary (left side) kayak would hold up the bottle and I’d swim closer to the kayak, when the bottle would be thrown to me (bitter end tied to the kayak). There was no deviation from this feeding plan throughout the swim. The drink was absorbed well, and I felt constant energy throughout. The makeup of the Perpetuem energy drink “works” for me. I’m able to absorb the stuff and convert it into energy. I find it amazing that the flow of energy I get is steady and even. I don’t feel surges, or most importantly, valleys. No doubt, I get tired…. but it isn’t from the lack of energy or fuel. Feeds lasted 45-90 seconds, during which I’d stretch my lower back, and drink, all while doing a breaststroke kick to propel me in the direction of St. John. With half the bottle gone, I’d roll over, find my and start swimming again.

“I feel like I’m not getting anywhere.”

The present conditions, being in deeper water, further from shore, combined to make it difficult for me to gauge my progress. I realize this is what most open water swimmers deal with, it was just new to me. During every feed in the first 3-4 hours, I’d say to my crew, “I just don’t feel like I am getting anywhere!” They would reassure me, tell me the distance covered, and then we’d have a short discussion of what feature to sight on in the distance.

What did you see?

Not much! Fortunately, I did not see any predators – jellyfish or sharks. I saw a barracuda early on, it came up from below and behind me, stayed about 20 feet below me, then swam off. When I was adjacent to Dead Chest Island, the bottom came up and I did notice some coral reef-like structures and swam along them for about 15 minutes. I mentioned this during a feed and was told by Adam on the Salt Shaker that the bottom was ~50-55 feet deep. Another barracuda came off the bottom, again, up to about 20 feet below me, then went out of my sight. And then a large school of several hundred creole wrasse were associated with this shallow reef structure. I saw sargassum (a brown seaweed now pervasive in the Caribbean and Florida) the entire way. But mostly in small clumps floating by. Occasionally I’d dive under larger mats of it when I saw them in advance. But it was not a major problem. Having mostly nothing to “look at” for 8+ was very different for me. There just wasn’t much to see. And I was OK with that.

What I focused on was trying to sight on landmarks as instructed by my crew. The first sight point was the “saddle” on Cooper Island. While I believed I was heading dead for it, I was in fact being pushed to the north (and that despite my ‘natural’ curve to the left/south when swimming). Many, many times during feeds in the first three hours I was told: “See that saddle there…. head straight to that saddle.” As I swam adjacent to the anchorage at Cooper Island and headed toward Salt Island, I became aware that I was feeling dizzy. The constant wave action with some fatigue, caused me to veer off course. One time, I’d made a hard right/north turn and whistles were needed to bring my awareness back to the proper navigation.

I wasn’t aware of being pushed to the north in the open stretch between Salt and Peter Islands. We knew this would be a challenging stretch; the crew kept getting me to head to the appropriate landmark, but I just didn’t compensate enough given the currents and wind. I eventually swam through this section, but the conditions had caused a distinct northerly “bulge” in our track. Once adjacent to Peter Island, another “saddle” at the west end of that island became the primary sight-mark. It was not the straight path to the finish but heading there set me up for W-NW currents that were forecast for the last three-mile stretch toward St. John.

Conditions

The water conditions were mostly consistent. I didn’t notice major changes in currents, winds, or waves. My kayakers said my speed changed but I didn’t notice; I tried to apply equal effort. On 4-5 occasions, I would happen upon a small thermocline, and not just cool water but usually accompanied by a decrease in water clarity and increase in clumps of different algae flowing by. I’d try to correlate this with an inflow of water through the southern island passages, but no distinct pattern became evident. These variants did stop occurring during the last half of the swim, possibly due my progression to the wind and water flow “lee” of the (relatively) large Peter Island. This colder, dirtier water would last 5-15 minutes, then subside with temperatures and clarity increasing back to “normal”.

Physically, I felt OK throughout the swim. No doubt, I was getting tired as the hours progressed. But nothing was critical. My lower back and right shoulder ached, as they did in my longer training swims, but not alarmingly. After 4-5 hours, my right knee was painful when I’d lay on my back and breastroke kick during feeds. That was unusual. I asked for an ibuprofen during a feed to help deal with it (we had discussed this; the tablet was put into an empty, dry feed bottle and passed to me with my regular feed bottle). About an hour later, my quads were becoming painful, like cramping but not quite. It was something that hadn’t occurred before. I let Jude know about it during a feed. It eventually passed, or I forgot about it. After 6 hours or so, my right nostril became clogged. This was annoying and made breathing somewhat less efficient. Again, this was uncommon for me, not sure what was happening. I’d exhale forcefully, especially during the feeds, trying to clear it, but no success. As the swim progressed, the other nostril began to clog too, but fortunately, it never completely closed off. I knew I was working harder to breathe, but it was all manageable. I became colder late in the day, as the sun went behind clouds a few hours prior to setting. Mentally, I felt OK. I was able to keep my thoughts positive and focused on the present. When I’d drift into discomfort and fatigue, I’d force myself to re-focus: this was the chance. This was the opportunity. It had all aligned – the logistics, customs, lodging, crew, boat, wind, current, water temperature, even the Track.rs live-feed was working (I’d asked nearly every feed….), the fund raising was going so well, my health was good, nutrition was working, the training had been done. All the “stuff” I’d put Jude through in the months prior, it had all come together. Just get your mind rapped around it – nothing hurts bad enough to stop. Stop whining – Keep swimming!

Night swimming

Miles 10-12 were some of my “faster” miles, likely because Peter Islands sheltered me from some of the SE wind and waves, and the current wasn’t flowing against me. But I wasn’t aware of that; I couldn’t feel any change in my pace. The sun had been behind the clouds for a while and, strange as it sounds, I was getting cold when stopping for feeds. I missed the sun!

It was during this time, I realized that I’d likely not make it to St. John before dark. We had prepared for this potential. My clear goggles were cleaned and prepped with a glow stick, and they were given to me at the feeding when I was about halfway across the passage between Peter Island and St. John. After swimming so long without seeing anything in the water, now in the dark, it wasn’t much different. Except for the occasional streak of bioluminescence, which I always enjoy.

Above water was a different story. I’d seen a Pretlow Majette’s boat come join our little flotilla and heard a drone buzzing overhead. Both had waited until we crossed into US waters. But as daylight faded, it became difficult to see the finish, St. John, only a mile or so in the distance. The land here is undeveloped, no streetlights, and only one house, and the lights weren’t on. The island faded into darkness. I was tired, cold and a bit cranky. I was ready to be done but despite being so close, I couldn’t actually see the end.

Coming ashore

At a feed about 7:00pm I was told the second kayak team was going ahead to the shoreline and their headlamp would provide a target. I’d look up to sight the light on the shore, but the wave action and my tired brain couldn’t understand what I was seeing. Crew members were now yelling distances to me, “800m”,.. “400m” …. then finally, as my crew looked at me, their headlamps illuminated the bottom about ~10 feet below me. I was jolted into alertness now and began alternating breastroke/freestyle until I could hear, see, and feel the waves on the shore.

This was not the classic Caribbean sandy beach. This was a boulder, rocky, dead coral rubble strewn shoreline. I breaststroked/floated into the shallows, noticing the rock-boring urchins, and occasional elkhorn coral. Doing my best to avoid those, I went as shallow as I could before seeking a place for my hands and feet to crab walk my way out. The transition between the swimming world and the walking, then standing world was a shaky one complicated by the dark, spotlights of the headlamps, wind, and waves. I was tired, cold, very unsteady, but I was standing on the dry land of St. John.