![]() The father and son are the reason Farrier is even in the water. Last April, after the shoulder pains, the local shark attack and the lost job, Farrier stopped training for 10 days. He asked himself: What should I do? And he made that question into a prayer.Īn answer arrived in the local newspaper. He read about a 9-year-old boy who’d died of adrenoleukodystrophy – a genetic disorder that robbed his sight and hearing before deteriorating all brain function. Says Farrier: “It was on, dude… There was a reason to do it.” When he told Evan Cousineau’s mom that he was considering a channel swim, she stopped him cold: “This kid could’ve been me,” Farrier says of the news photo staring back at him: a tiny swimmer, a water polo player a blond-haired San Clemente kid who called T-Street beach home.įarrier called the family in tears and offered to help. The last few miles of the swim from Catalina to the mainland are the toughest. The current accelerates as it whips around Point Vicente in Palos Verdes. And at this moment, the largest container ship Farrier has ever seen – three football fields long – bearing down on him.įarrier hears it first – underwater engines churning louder. He looks up and thinks: “Too close.”Īt first it appears he’ll pass in front of the 100,000 gross tons of cargo-laden ship. Farrier bounces in a wake 100 yards from the ship – close enough to see a face yelling from the bridge. A madness takes over The Bottom Scratcher. Pace swimmers, kayakers, friends empty into the sea. Eight sets of arms slap the water in a mad dash to escort Farrier to the rocky cove below the beckoning lighthouse. In a sealed bag, Mark Cousineau carries a photograph. He has another, of several Cousineau hands all intertwined. Some of those hands are beside Farrier now, urging him forward. Ever.Īfter 9 hours and 54 minutes in the water, a lone figure finally emerges. There is no need to ask which Greg Farrier it is.
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