Outside Magazine

Alex Wilton lives in San Francisco, surrounded by water. That was once part of its allure; as someone who spent many years sailing, Wilton had come to associate the ocean with freedom—the freedom to explore, freedom from outside demands. 

Recently, though, he could hardly look at open water without his mind wandering to dark places. This was unfortunate, given that the San Francisco Bay bordered his running route along the Embarcadero and glimmered under the bridge he crossed to visit his parents in Marin County. The sea had taken on a sinister quality. 

In March of 2019, Wilton, who was 32 at the time, traveled from San Francisco to Troncones, a sleepy resort town on Mexico’s Pacific coast, to attend a wedding with his then girlfriend, Asha Agrawal. When they reached their beachfront hotel, they changed into bathing suits and trotted outside to the sand. After splashing around in the blue-green water to cool down, Wilton had an urge to burn off some energy. He grabbed his goggles, swam out beyond where the surf was breaking, and turned south.