Karen Gaffney conquers Lake Tahoe
"Everest of sorts" - The 29-year-old Portlander with Down syndrome
swims across the nation's second-deepest lake
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
KATY MULDOON
The Oregonian Staff
Celebratory air-horn blasts punctuated the high-Sierra afternoon
Tuesday as Karen Gaffney approached Lake Tahoe's shore and another
landmark accomplishment for those with disabilities.
When she emerged from the water shortly after noon, the 29-year-old
Portlander became the first person with Down syndrome to swim the
nine-mile distance across the nation's second-deepest lake. Her time:
six hours, 15 minutes.
"It felt great out there," Gaffney said by telephone a couple of
hours later. "But I'm happy it's over."
Gaffney first made a name for herself in July 2001, when she became
the first person with Down syndrome to swim the English Channel on a
relay team. She's tackled other open-water challenges since,
including the swim portion of the rigorous Escape From Alcatraz
triathlon in the San Francisco Bay.
The Tahoe swim was her father, Jim's, idea. He'd vacationed there as
a child and knew that for swimmers, it was an Everest of sorts.
The family spent the past two weeks at Tahoe so Gaffney could train
at altitude; the 1,645-foot-deep lake sits at 6,225 feet in the heart
of the Sierra Nevada range. It's clarity is legendary: Swimmers can
see 70 feet down, and it feels, said Ken Harmon, "like you're
swimming on top of a skyscraper."
Harmon, a 47-year-old Californian, claims the record for swimming the
farthest, lengthwise, across Tahoe. The family enlisted his advice to
help Karen Gaffney train and to keep her company, along with a
handful of other swimmers, Tuesday.
Training the past two weeks was tough. Windy weather lathered up
whitecaps on the lake, often forcing Gaffney to move her workout to
nearby pools.
But when they awoke hours before dawn Tuesday, Jim Gaffney said, "it
was one of those Dover days." The day his daughter swam the English
Channel, the usually churning sea between Dover, England, and France
was mirror-smooth.
In the night, the wind had vanished, and Tahoe had flattened. But
balmy, it wasn't
When the family arrived at 4:30 a.m. in Homewood, on the California
shore, they had to tread cautiously along docks and a boat deck iced
with frost. The air temperature shivered at 38 degrees as they
motored across the lake. By the time they got to the put-in at
Deadman Point on the Nevada side, Karen's 4-foot-10-inch, 95-pound
body shook with cold.
Harmon knew it would be warmer in the water, 59 degrees.
It took some persuading, he said, particularly because Karen was
nervous about swimming in the dark. But when Harmon jumped in a
stone's throw from the shoreline cliff at about 6:15 a.m., Gaffney
did, too.
When the family arrived at 4:30 a.m. in Homewood, on the California
shore, they had to tread cautiously along docks and a boat deck iced
with frost. The air temperature shivered at 38 degrees as they
motored across the lake. By the time they got to the put-in at
Deadman Point on the Nevada side, Karen's 4-foot-10-inch, 95-pound
body shook with cold.
Harmon knew it would be warmer in the water, 59 degrees.
It took some persuading, he said, particularly because Karen was
nervous about swimming in the dark. But when Harmon jumped in a
stone's throw from the shoreline cliff at about 6:15 a.m., Gaffney
did, too.
She wore a wet suit and neoprene hood, topped with a swim cap bearing
the logo of the Multnomah Athletic Club, where she typically swims
two miles, six or seven days each week. The routine has helped
alleviate problems associated with her misshapen hips and legs that
splay awkwardly, hallmarks of Down syndrome, a chromosomal
abnormality.
She and Harmon also wore glow sticks on their swim caps so that in
the pitch-black water, they could see each other and the flotilla of
accompanying boats before the sun came up.
Once Gaffney found her rhythm, Harmon said, she never missed a beat
as they swam west across the lake.
Karen stopped every 30 minutes so her uncle, Bill Gaffney of Lake
Oswego, who paddled a kayak, could hand her water, Gatorade, bananas,
Fig Newtons and energy bars.
In addition to Harmon, three others took turns swimming with Gaffney
throughout the morning.
When they were a mile or more from the California shore, Harmon said,
they could see the sandy lake bottom beneath, which made it seem as
if they were almost home. Those waiting on the beach at Homewood
blasted air horns and hollered encouragement.
"All that really carried her," Jim Gaffney said.
Finally, just after 12:30 p.m., Gaffney climbed out of the lake,
greeted by cheers, a bouquet of pink balloons and a bank of TV
cameras.
Someone placed a flower lei around her neck, Harmon said, and a smile
nearly as big as Tahoe crossed the woman's face.
Katy Muldoon: 503-221-8526; katymuldoon@...
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