How it all started: coffee, running, and one question
In the spring of 2015, a running craze swept through the BA office. Everyone was planning who would run farther, faster, or buy the coolest sneakers. That’s when Nikolaj appeared – a man surrounded by rumours that he had already completed a marathon.
Mindaugas recalls the moment:
‘We've hired a new IT admin – he’s running a marathon,’ he said to his colleague Aleksandr over coffee.
‘You two will get along, you’ll see,’ came the reply.
At the time, no one took it too seriously. But Nikolaj and Mindaugas quickly found common ground – both loved sports, swimming, and neither could stand silence near water. As spring warmed up, Nikolaj invited Mindaugas to the Green Lakes. The plan was simple: Nikolaj swims, Mindaugas watches the stuff. The result was even simpler – frozen feet, numb ears, and a clear understanding of the hierarchy between those who swim and those who watch.
Then, in the autumn of 2015, Nikolaj casually asked:
‘Will you swim?’
He meant Bosphorus. Mindaugas said no. Nikolaj trained alone for six months and, in 2016, swam from Asia to Europe. When he returned, he already knew – the next goal was Gibraltar.
The piece of paper that decided everything
Back from Istanbul, Nikolaj barely caught his breath before heading straight to Mindaugas’ office. Beaming, grinning from ear to ear, he stood there silently. Then came a rush of words: ‘Gibraltar,’ ‘I’ve already sent the application,’ ‘we need to hurry.’
Mindaugas reacted instantly:
‘Are you crazy? No, I’m not going.’
But the idea wouldn’t leave him. For a whole week, he searched for excuses – and found none. Eventually, he took two pieces of paper. On one, he wrote ‘YES,’ on the other ‘NO.’ He went to Nikolaj and said:
‘Pick – left or right.’
Nikolaj chose the right one. It said ‘YES.’
‘YES, means I’m swimming across Gibraltar with you,’ Mindaugas said calmly. Nikolaj shouted and hugged him. Mindaugas waited for the emotions to come later.
Two years of training: pools, a coach, and Spanish silence
From that day on, preparation became serious. First came emails to the Gibraltar organisation ACNEG. Replies would take a month, and usually brought little hope: too many applicants, bad weather, cancelled swims. They wanted to swim in 2018 to mark Lithuania’s centenary of independence, but the Spanish organisers were not impressed by the date.
Meanwhile, the training continued. First at the Lazdynai Leisure Centre – with old tiles, crumbling plaster, and a cleaner who, just like twenty years ago, would walk into the changing room at exactly the wrong moment. Déjà vu.
Later came coach Kęstutis Steponavičius at the ‘Impuls’ club on Kareivių Street – 7 a.m. sessions. Mindaugas found him strangely familiar. After half an hour in the pool, the smell of chlorine triggered a memory: Kęstutis was the brother of his childhood swimming friend. Lithuania is a small country.
A year and a half of the training flew by. But ACNEG still hadn’t given a positive answer. Then Nikolaj found a solution: a Catalonia-based club called ‘Neda el Món’, which takes 24 swimmers across Gibraltar each year. On January 30, 2019, the reply came:
‘Yes, we have two spots for this September.’
Five camps and life with jellyfish
‘Neda el Món’ didn’t just offer spots – they required participants to attend at least three out of five training camps in Barcelona. And they were anything but formal.
The first camp confirmed reality: swimmers from Spain, Russia, England, and Germany filled the group. Mindaugas and Nikolaj ended up in group 5 out of 6. Test – twenty 100-metre intervals at maximum pace. Not exactly fun.
The third camp marked their first encounter with the sea. Arenys de Mar, water at sixteen degrees.
‘As I stepped in, my legs were burning. When I submerged up to my neck, I felt a mild shock and panic,’ Mindaugas recalls. ‘I couldn’t breathe properly. My tongue, throat, all the way down to my stomach – everything tasted intensely salty.’
After nearly two hours, he climbed out trembling – but he had completed the swim.
The fourth camp was essentially a Gibraltar rehearsal – sixteen kilometres in rough water. The waves kept splitting the group apart. Mindaugas battled seasickness, cramps, and pain – and still kept up. After a couple of hours, he got out, while Nikolaj continued for another hour. Watching him return, Mindaugas thought:
‘He looked exhausted, slightly swollen, unsteady on his feet.’
The fifth camp brought jellyfish. August heat had warmed the water to twenty-four degrees – jellyfish season. Mindaugas was stung before reaching the first buoy. Nikolaj took a hit to the cheek – ‘like a fist wrapped in the carpet,’ he described it. Mark, the club leader, calmly took a plastic card, pushed Nikolaj underwater, and started scraping his cheek. Then he pointed them to a pharmacy. The pharmacist, hearing ‘Lithuanians, jellyfish,’ was almost delighted.
Tarifa: waiting, sharks, and howling like wolves
On September 11, they arrived in Tarifa – the southernmost point of Europe, facing Africa. Immediately, there was a briefing with ACNEG president Laura.
The rules were strict: swimmers had to stay within 100 metres of each other; anyone too slow would be disqualified; if the captain told you to get on the boat, you did it – no questions asked. The Gulf Stream pushes east, and the east wind creates surface currents so complex that crossings happen only about fifty to sixty times a year. Laura joked: " If you’retoo slow in the first hour, you’ll probably end up in Malta.’
But the start kept being postponed. Due to bad weather, the first team crossed only on September 9, while the second was sent home to wait until October. Mindaugas grew nervous. So did Nikolaj. Their fourth teammate, Ezequiel from Mexico, had been waiting since June:
‘From boredom, anxiety, and stress, he just feels like cutting his veins,’ Mindaugas writes.
During the waiting days, the Spanish hosts kept them busy: trips to the kitesurfing paradise of Valdevaqueros, a tuna restaurant in Barbate, and Gibraltar – where they ate ‘fish and chips’, saw monkeys, and British phone booths. But on September 17, after another bad forecast and the sixth group being sent home, the three remaining swimmers – Mindaugas, Nikolaj, and Hector – went to the harbour gates and howled like wolves. Each of them probably poured their own message into that sound.
September 18: 15.2 kilometres to Africa
On September 18, a calm, windless morning arrived. At breakfast, Mindaugas noticed:
‘I saw Nikolaj’s and Hector’s legs shaking.’
They smiled and explained – not fear, just ‘moving to the rhythm of the music.’
At 1 p.m., they gathered at the port. Everything happened incredibly fast. A quick briefing, photos, and ten minutes later, they were waving goodbye. The boat took them to Isla de Tarifa. They jumped into the water, swam to the rocks, touched them – and waited for the whistle.
Start.
The first hour was fast, as instructed. Mindaugas was overwhelmed by anxiety – the cold, cramps, everything that could go wrong.
‘Ahead is the white boat “Columba”, far left the orange “Duende del Mar”, then Nikolaj, Hector, me, and Ezequiel.’
He pushed the distracting Ezequiel aside and tried to calm himself: everything is fine, we’re moving fast, everything will be fine. Until he swam face-first into seaweed and spent ten minutes spitting and swearing.
After two hours, the pace slowed. Around the third hour, Mindaugas thought he saw a dolphin beneath him. In the fourth hour, Mark asked Mindaugas and Hector to ‘draft’ – swim ahead of Nikolaj to make it easier for him. In theory, it made sense. In practice, Mindaugas quickly returned to his position.
Meanwhile, Nikolaj was battling himself.
‘All thoughts disappeared. All of them. I could only see “Columba” and, through it, Morocco.’
He tried several times to summon energy for a second wind – but there was none left. The Moroccan shore didn’t seem any closer. Hours passed.
Then Mindaugas came up with a prayer:
‘I kept repeating: “Nikolaj, Nikolaj, come on, come on, swim, swim, we’re almost there.” About a hundred times.’
He doesn’t know if it helped Nikolaj. It definitely helped him.
After five hours and forty-six minutes. 15.2 kilometres. They touched the Moroccan rocks. The referee’s whistle.
‘We reached Africa. We swam across the Strait of Gibraltar!’ writes Mindaugas.
‘We are the first Lithuanians to have crossed the Strait of Gibraltar!' adds Nikolaj.
About what matters more than the swim
At the end of the story, Nikolaj gives thanks. To his parents and wife – for their patience. To coach Kęstutis – for his dedication. To the BA team – for their support in the kitchen, in comments, and in messages.
To Mindaugas, he says:
‘To the best swimmer, coach, training partner, banter specialist, and a truly interesting person and Friend.'
This story is about what a simple coffee conversation with colleagues can lead to. A late-night trip to a lake. A small piece of paper with the word ‘YES'. And a person who doesn't complain when the water is cold, but quietly invites you to follow.
Sometimes, that's all it takes for two colleagues to swim to Africa on a September morning.
