I swam from Asia to Europe. A wave of hope kept me going

Annual swimming race on the Bosphorus brings together thousands of participants in the waters that separate Asia and Europe, in Istanbul

I felt the echo as I passed under the Fatih Sultan Mehmet Bridge. One of my fellow swimmers screamed with joy. The sound reverberated across the water.

I continued swimming until the second bridge appeared in front of me, 15 Temmuz Şehitler Köprüsü. It seemed to be an impossible distance away. I thought: What am I doing? Why am I, a working mother, a sensible woman in her 50s, trying to swim across the Bosphorus, which is the strait that divides Asia from Europe, in Turkey?

One of the reasons: I was participating in the 37th Bosphorus International Swimming Race, which is an annual competition that challenges thousands of amateur athletes, focused on their endurance, to cross between the two continents in the waters of Istanbul. Furthermore, while the salt water covered my face, there were jellyfish. The horizon dipped into the shallow waves. I wasn’t sure of anything.

I had been preparing for months. When I signed up at the beginning of the year, I had to present documents proving that I was in good shape, that I belonged to a swimming club and that I had a coach. I love swimming. I have already participated in competitions. However, the Bosphorus is different from common long-distance races.

This is a serious event. It is organized by the Turkish Olympic Committee. Once a year, at the end of August, the Bosphorus – which connects the Black Sea to the Sea of ​​Marmara – is closed to maritime traffic for a few hours. In this year’s edition, more than 2,800 swimmers signed up to swim a 6.5 kilometer route along this watercourse, which is between 700 and 750 meters wide. The currents, which flow from north to south, push participants at almost Olympic speeds.

Tricky waters

My training was simple: swimming. In the summer, after buying a red safety buoy, I increased my distances. At the beginning of August I took part in a race in the Mediterranean, which didn’t go very well. Summary: I came in last place out of 90 swimmers, I was stung in the face by a jellyfish, I developed an infection that kept me out of the pool for the week before the race in Istanbul. Still, I was determined to cross the Bosphorus starting line.

At the end of August, I traveled with my family to Turkey. The test always takes place on a Sunday. The day before, swimmers collect their accreditation at the finish area. That’s when reality set in: the other participants were serious athletes. They came from 81 different countries, equipped with professional equipment, compared notes on the chains, boasted about the number of times they had completed the test.

My biggest fear was not being able to finish within the time limit, which was two hours after the last swimmer entered the water. Despite my passion, I am slow. I swim breaststroke, not front crawl. When I admitted this in the prep area, I heard gasps. It was as if they said: “Forget it, you won’t make it”.

However, there was no turning back. Race day had arrived. At breakfast at the hotel, I filled my plate with what I expected to be the menu of champions: coffee, eggs, hummus – and more coffee.

As the race was downstream, the swimmers gathered first at the finish line, in Cemil Topuzlu Park, which is on the European side. Then, take boats to the starting point, north of the Fatih Sultan Mehmet Bridge, on the Asian side.

That boat trip seemed endless, leaving us further and further away from the goal.

His nerves were on edge. However, I managed to talk to some of my fellow swimmers. A Ukrainian woman told me that she hadn’t been able to train because the swimming pool in the city where she lived had been bombed. A group of tanned Italians, wearing swimming trunks, sang “O Sole Mio”, as if they were on a Sardinha beach. A Dutch woman leaned over and whispered what was already on my mind: “What are we doing here?” An American couple calmly discussed their strategy: “Dive, get your bearings and head towards the middle of the first bridge”. I kept that in my memory. I put on the swimming cap, covering my hair. Each athlete received a cap according to their age group. Mine was bright orange, with “Over 50” written on it.

A wave of hope

Summers in Istanbul are usually wonderful. However, that morning, a sudden storm hit, just after 10:00, when the first swimmers entered the water. When my age group started at 10:40, the rain had already stopped. Still, the strait was choppy. We ran to the platform and dove. The water was cool, not cold. I adjusted my swimming goggles, got my bearings, pointed to the bridge and moved forward. All around me, hundreds of people were swimming towards the middle of the channel.

From then on, only the rhythm of the strokes could be heard. As I passed under the first bridge, upon hearing the echo of a joyful Tyrolean song, I felt my doubts being replaced by a wave of hope.

The Bosphorus bends and narrows. The currents change with each turn. We had studied maps that showed when the currents would turn left or right. But, in the water, I forgot everything. A mistake in this part could take us off the route or even make us go beyond the finish line. My strategy became simple: follow whoever was in front of me.

Bridge. Curve. Left. Right. And then, suddenly, the second bridge appeared, close to the finish line. I started to believe that I could actually complete this challenge. As watches are prohibited, I had no idea how long I had been swimming. The water was clear, just a few harmless jellyfish. The current carried us forward.

Dangerous currents

And we continued – slightly to the right, slightly to the left. My internal clock told me that more than an hour had already passed when I saw the white tents at the finish line appear. I had stayed in the middle of the channel, wary of the countercurrents near the European coast. However, now he had to cross. The jetty was visible. It was then that the current hit me with full force.

Although it had turned to the right, it continued to be carried forward. For the last hundred meters, I swam almost sideways, struggling to cross the current. Stroke after stroke, the goal approached. Swimmers climbed the steps. Suddenly, he was in their midst.

I stumbled across the electronic finish line, stunned, not realizing that I had managed to complete the race within the time limit. My time: one hour and 40 minutes. The winner, a Turkish Cypriot, finished in 56 minutes.

The test was not without risks. A 29-year-old Russian swimmer disappeared that day and has not yet been found. Although it is a challenging test, incidents like this are rare. There are several security measures in place, with the Olympic Committee reportedly deploying a hundred vessels to monitor swimmers during this year’s event.

After that, I collected my belongings, drank almost two liters of water, shed a few tears and found my family again. I also had friends who went to Istanbul on purpose for this occasion. It was wonderful to see their relief – and their smiles.

That night we celebrated with a Turkish feast. I will have consumed about five thousand calories. I had managed to complete this once-in-a-lifetime challenge.

What kept me motivated was something my 14-year-old son told me the day before. He grabbed me by the shoulders and said, “Mom, you trained for this. You’re ready.” It’s a feeling that everyone can carry into scary situations. I was especially happy that my 16-year-old daughter got to see what women can achieve.

You may not participate in the test again. Nothing can surpass that day. However, if you like swimming and want an incredible experience, know that registration for Bosphorus Swim 2026 opens in January.