Every Drop Counts by Ernst Bromeis

Author:Ernst Bromeis [Bromeis, Ernst]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9783906304236
Google: SHldMQAACAAJ
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 34196267
Publisher: rüffer & rub Sachbuchverlag
Published: 2017-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

My first two expeditions had given me a certain amount of fame. This opened up a number of doors for me, and gave rise, suddenly, to new ways of working with sponsors. But this entails walking a fine line—and, for each side, making considered choices. Each of the two parties has to take into account the risks and opportunities arising from such partnerships.

One of these risks is that such an expedition can fail—due to the breaking down of its protagonist through her or his suffering an accident or illness. Such “acts of god” as natural disasters can also not be precluded. The opportunities emerging for both sides ensue from the uniqueness of such expeditions, and from the great variety of ways to communicate this to a large-sized audience. At the end of the day, it is I who decided whether a partnership with a sponsor came into being or not. The reason is that it is I who is the focus of attention and who bears the name of the sponsor on my chest. While on my Rhine expedition, I did not offer any sponsoring of my head—which would have been done by placing a logo on my swimming cap. I want to “keep my head”, to go my way while swimming from the springs to the mouth of the Rhine. I didn’t want to spend my time primarily representing a sponsor and its message. Looking back, I have to admit that I was only partially successful in this regard. My head did “belong to me”, but I also let it get way too involved in the wake cast by the ship of marketing.

“You are already a star in the Netherlands” stated the director of my main partner. Our conversation took place on May 2, 2012, on the banks of the Lag da Toma. We were being accompanied by further partners and representatives of the media. It was the start of a more than 1,200 kilometers-long swim down the Rhine. Clad in my wetsuit and fighting off the wintry weather, I dipped into the ice-cold water of the lake’s springs and crawled—two strokes—in the hole that had been cut in the ice. While doing so, I was photographed, filmed and applauded. The photos were sent as far away as Los Angeles and elsewhere in the world. I felt like the loneliest man on the planet.

The director was right in one way. Several articles had appeared in the media in the Netherlands on my expedition prior to its having been commenced. The country was following my project with interest. To put it metaphorically, to celebrate my arrival on the beach at the Hoek van Holland, the Dutch had already placed the beer on ice. All that was left for me to do was to swim there. But my mood was as dark as the water was cold. While spending several cold minutes in the hole in the ice, I felt very uneasy. I was afraid that I was making the mistake of having launched this expedition so early in the year—in May.

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