Aug 6, 2026 · 1 hr 2 min · 16 segments
In this edition of the **SwimOut** podcast we celebrate New Yorker **Gertrude Ederle** who swam the English Channel 100 years ago this month. Gertrude was a pioneer, trailblazer and inspiration to…
Halani Moss-VeteVickiHost
Bryony RoweGuest
Glenn StoutGuest
Elaine HowleyGuest
Jaimie MonahanGuest
Sarah PhilpottGuest
Hannah HubertGuestMy fellow swimmer, Halani, who came and talked about her swim across the Molokai Channel in Hawaii in Series 5, has been reflecting on Gertrude Ederle and the impact she has had on her as a swimmer.
In her wake, a love letter to channel swimming 100 years after Gertrude Ederle.
The edges of the Atlantic breathed around me as waves rolled over my shoulders and the outline of the rugged coast of County Cork appeared and disappeared through the mist.
The coastline felt ancient, almost mythical, as shadows of seaweed and rock passed beneath me and the wind swept vigorously across the water's surface.
Somewhere between the sea and sky, with nothing but the rhythm of my own stroke to accompany me, I found myself thinking about another woman who disappeared into the fog 100 years ago.
It no longer matters whether you're swimming in Ireland, Hawaii, the English Channel, or New York.
Water has a curious way of collapsing history, and for a brief moment, it can feel as though every swimmer who has ever ventured into open water has shared the same tide.
In August 1926, a young woman stood on the French coast and attempted something many experts believed women were physically incapable of doing.
Only a year earlier, she had failed in her first attempt, reinforcing every prejudice that already existed.
But it only feels laughable because on the 6th of August 1926, Gertrude Ederle, in her quiet determination, proved the world wrong.
A century later, I find myself thinking less about her record and more about what her swim made possible.
Not simply another crossing, but a water-bound community of swimming enthusiasts who carry their own similar dreams through time.
That's because what Gertrude really crossed wasn't only the English Channel.
100 years later, thousands of swimmers still gather on beaches before dawn.
We still study tide tables and wind trends as though deciphering an ancient language.
We still warm cold hands around mugs of tea or coffee in woolly gloves after long swims.
We still entrust our dreams to boat pilots, support crews, kayakers, and volunteers.
My fellow swimmer, Halani, who came and talked about her swim across the Molokai Channel in Hawaii in Series 5, has been reflecting on Gertrude Ederle and the impact she has had on her as a swimmer.
In her wake, a love letter to channel swimming 100 years after Gertrude Ederle.
The edges of the Atlantic breathed around me as waves rolled over my shoulders and the outline of the rugged coast of County Cork appeared and disappeared through the mist.
The coastline felt ancient, almost mythical, as shadows of seaweed and rock passed beneath me and the wind swept vigorously across the water's surface.
Somewhere between the sea and sky, with nothing but the rhythm of my own stroke to accompany me, I found myself thinking about another woman who disappeared into the fog 100 years ago.
It no longer matters whether you're swimming in Ireland, Hawaii, the English Channel, or New York.
Water has a curious way of collapsing history, and for a brief moment, it can feel as though every swimmer who has ever ventured into open water has shared the same tide.
In August 1926, a young woman stood on the French coast and attempted something many experts believed women were physically incapable of doing.
Only a year earlier, she had failed in her first attempt, reinforcing every prejudice that already existed.
But it only feels laughable because on the 6th of August 1926, Gertrude Ederle, in her quiet determination, proved the world wrong.
A century later, I find myself thinking less about her record and more about what her swim made possible.
Not simply another crossing, but a water-bound community of swimming enthusiasts who carry their own similar dreams through time.
That's because what Gertrude really crossed wasn't only the English Channel.
100 years later, thousands of swimmers still gather on beaches before dawn.
We still study tide tables and wind trends as though deciphering an ancient language.
We still warm cold hands around mugs of tea or coffee in woolly gloves after long swims.
We still entrust our dreams to boat pilots, support crews, kayakers, and volunteers.
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