Postscript

Well, coming up to a month down the track I can reflect with some degree of objectivity on my channel swim. I've had some nice comments about my report, although perhaps not surprisingly I don't seem to have inspired many friends to consider swimming the channel.
At the start of the year I said I wanted to test the limits of my sanity/ability. The channel certainly felt like it did that. I pushed myself well beyond any comfort zone and then on and on and on through a fairly prolonged uncomfortable zone. I can honestly say I was successful in thoroughly testing my physical and mental limits!

The most common post swim comment I have had is "What next?". To which I generally quip "Something shorter and warmer". There is naturally an immense sense of achievement and all the positive feedback from friends and family helps me to appreciate why so many go back for more. Why some even go for multiple crossings. For me, swimming the channel was never meant to be about recognition. It was about challenging myself and testing my limits, to that end I feel I have achieved what I set out to do. What next? Does there even have to be a next? Is there any great benefit to be had by further pushing the boundaries of sense and physical achievement? That question I do not have an answer to........................yet.

Swimming the English Channel - 8/09/2009

I can honestly say I didn’t enjoy one mile of my cross channel swim. I have described it as 11hrs of extreme mental torture and without over stating it that’s what it felt like. I am of course elated now to have completed the swim, immensely satisfied and above all relieved, but the actual swim was without doubt the hardest, most mentally and physically challenging thing I have ever attempted.

I have read many blogs and accounts of channel swims; some describe the excitement of finally tackling the ‘Everest’ of open water swimming. The joy of finally doing what has been months and years in the preparation. There’s no doubt I was excited and glad to have finally gotten my opportunity (at one stage I was worried that the weather might conspire against me and I would be left stranded on Dover harbour at the end of September), but once in the water all the excitement and positivity gives way to the reality of what you are doing.

My start time was to be approx 12.30am – an hour before high tide on the 8/9/09. After loading up the boat and filling in the appropriate paperwork we motored around to one of the beaches just south of Dover harbour. I stripped to my speedos and greased up as we watched another boat that had arrived just before us sound the starting siren for their swimmer. At 12.45am I found myself standing on the back of the boat, readying myself to launch into the water. I suppose at that moment it would have been appropriate to be reflecting momentarily on what I was finally about to embark upon but to be honest the only thought in mind was whether my goggle strap was tight enough. And so I jumped into the cold sea water and swam quickly to the rocky beach. You have to clear the water for the official start so I scrambled up the rocky beach and waved to the boat (they had a spotlight trailing on me to ensure I was completely clear), and then the siren blasted.

The cold had always been my concern; the sea temperature was reading 17.5 degrees mid channel. The last training swim in Dover (a few weeks earlier) had been very pleasant, but that was on a warm sunny day. Swimming in cold sea water in the middle of the night with no sun to warm you is a very different matter. I had expected to be cold in the first few hours and I knew it would be almost toughest at the start (with so much still ahead of me), but I knew I was in for a long night when within 30 minutes I could feel the cold eating away at me. So began the mental battle that continued for the next 11hrs, the little voice that willed me to swim over to the boat and get out, to the warmth, to end the misery. Every time the boat edged ahead of me I could see the steps on the back of the boat and they seemed to beckon me, tempt me to climb onboard. At those weak moments I would try breathing to the other side and not look at the boat and banish those thoughts. I tried all sort of tricks to distract myself. I would think of all the people that had supported me, my wife on the boat, her unwavering encouragement and pride in my swimming. Also on the boat my father-in-law Mike, whose battle with pancreatic cancer had been one of the motivating spurs to get me to commit to the channel swim. His presence on the stern of the boat in those early hours, watching me made me feel protected somehow. I tried to think of movies I enjoyed to get my head to think of something other than the pervasive cold but as the cold became more consuming my ability to think of anything else became more and more limited. It was all I could do to keep swimming, every time I thought of getting out I would say to myself ‘You can’t get out now, you’ve only been in for an hour, it’s pathetic, swim to your next feed’, then it was ‘You’ve only been in for 1 and a ½ hours, keep going, you aren’t that cold, your teeth aren’t even chattering”. At the 2 hour mark my teeth started chattering.

Every 30 minutes I was given a hot energy drink with some tinned fruit added. It was a formula we had used in the long Windermere swim and in the channel initially seemed to be fine but by the 3 hour mark I was violently sick. I kept the next feed down but then at the 4 hour feed again bad vomiting. My throat burned from the salty vomit. I took an anti sickness pill after that and my pilot Alison Streeter changed my feeding regime to a different energy drink and fortunately that seemed to settle the nausea. Every third feed became energy drink, plus sugar plus instant coffee. My support crew thought it was vile but for some reason I really liked it and began to look forward to that particular concoction.

After 5 hours of swimming the sky started to lighten and by 5.5 hrs dawn broke and I had reached the separation zone (the half way point in the channel). It was one of the few positive moments of the swim. For some reason the water temperature felt marginally warmer and the sight of the sun creeping up above the watery horizon was a mental warmer too. The separation zone is the 1 mile strip of water that separates the English and French shipping lanes – some of the busiest shipping lanes in the world. I soon entered the French shipping lane and for the next few hours watched massive tankers and occasional ferry ships zipping passed me. I was amazed how quickly they moved up close. From the shore they seem to chug slowly across the distant seas but up close they zoomed into view and whizzed passed me leaving their choppy wake to unsettle my rhythm. I knew the shipping lane was about 5 miles across and had hoped to be clear of it in 2 hours or so but I made the mistake of not accounting for the strong spring tide which had turned by this point and was whisking me southwards diagonally across the shipping lane. Every time I saw a tanker passing behind me I thought I might be clearing the shipping lane only to then see another in the distance still ahead of me.

In the channel they tell you to swim from feed to feed. Don’t be distracted by the distant goal or it will become insurmountable. If you start looking for the French shore you will be looking for hours and it will not appear to get any closer. I found myself looking forward to each 30 minute feed. Despite the fact I still felt nauseous the feeds broke up the monotony and it was something tangible to concentrate on other than the cold and fatigue. Every feed the crew would shout encouragement and pass on well wishes. Text messages from Australian and English family and friends. My friend Rob on board would reach down and hand me my next feed and tell me how strong I looked and the observer Andy would yell words of support. I even heard Ali call out once from the boat (an honour to receive encouragement from the queen of the channel).

Time did start to pass quicker in the 2nd half on the swim, I would like to say it was because I was fighting the demons better but I had given up trying to push the negative thoughts out of my head, they were far too pervasive. I refused to allow myself to think of the end goal in case the distance of it became too much. I accepted the cold and the nausea and the aches in the muscles and just tried to push myself to the next feed.

Twice I complained of the cold. A pointless exercise if ever there was one. Vickie knew how cold I had got at Windermere and afterwards I told her I didn’t want to complain about it because it would make it a bigger issue than it already was. A part of me was thinking if I tell them how cold I am then it won’t be so much of a shock if I get out. After the channel Vickie told me how worried she was when I was sick and complained of the cold, it was certainly a sign of how fragile the mental situation had become.

At the eight hour mark my arms started to feel really heavy, like they were three times their size and made of lead. It was just like it had been at Windermere and had happened at exactly the same time stage. At Windermere I had had only an hour left to swim and could see the finish point in the distance. In the channel I was still in the French shipping lane a long way from the coast and I started to wonder if this was really it, had my body finally reached the limit. I kept trying to focus on the stroke, ‘long and strong’, ‘long and strong’. Trying not to let my technique and efficiency suffer, and then after about 30 minutes the feeling went away. I didn’t magically feel great but I didn’t feel quite as bad as I had been.

I finally passed the last tanker, it came storming up to us and passed about 100m behind the boat, it seemed to take up the whole of my view when I breathed to the right it was so large. For a moment I was worried it might just mow us down and then just as quickly it had disappeared behind me and I was in the French inshore waters.

At my next feed Rob cheerfully informed me I was 3 miles from Cap Griz Nez, in the next breath he said ‘but you’re going to miss it with the tide so you’ve got probably 5 miles still to swim’. I know he was being helpful but I could have punched him. I figured another 2 hours of swimming and so I started to think that was maybe only 3 or 4 more feeds. The French coast was visible but I forced myself not to look at it between feeds as I knew it would not get closer quickly. At one of my last feeds Vickie encouraged me by telling me we were so close she could see the rocks but Ali had told them not to get too carried away as the tide was sweeping me southwards so quickly it wasn’t clear how soon I would be able to get into the shore. Vickie kept asking me if I wanted her to get in but I wanted to save her for the final push to shore and so when I came to the 11 hour feed and she asked me again I said ‘Is this my last feed?’ the reply was ‘Just keep going, keep swimming’ and so again I told Vickie to wait on the boat and swam on. To be honest although the shore looked close I was struggling to focus and couldn’t tell if I had 100m to swim or 2km. And then suddenly the shore was there, the rocks and boulders were tangible they were only 50m away and I finally knew I had made it. There was a stage in the swim that I had wondered if I made it to France would I cry with joy but when I finally felt the rocks beneath my feet I felt only an overwhelming sense of relief, relief that it was over.

I swam up to a large boulder at the waters edge and hauled myself out of the water. To officially finish you need to be completely clear of the water. I gingerly stood up, turned around and waved to my boat where I could see everyone cheering and waving enthusiastically. I was so exhausted I sat down on the rock and stared at the boat thinking how little I wanted to get back into the water and swim the 50m or so back to the boat. I also knew that the boat was the real end to this swim and I would start to suffer from the cold very soon so I eased back into the water and swam somewhat erratically back to the boat.

On the boat I was cocooned in towels, blankets and old clothes but it took about an hour for the shivering to stop. I slept the rest of the way back to Dover.

Several days on I do feel an immense amount of pride and satisfaction in what I have achieved and still an enormous amount of relief that I didn’t succumb to the demons. I have said to Vickie that if I ever even mention swimming the channel again she can club me over the head with a shovel. The next swim will be shorter and warmer, 50m in a pool sounds good.

I swam 1300kms in the eight months up to swimming the channel. It became nothing short of an obsession. I thought about it daily and even dreamt about it on numerous occasions. It took over my life for much of this year and I am looking forward to being a little less selfish about my time and priorities. I know my mum is glad it’s over!

To everyone who helped me along the way thank you so much. I trained with the Yarra Roughies and Ice-bergers in Melbourne. With Cheltenham Swim Club, Gloucester Masters and Cheltenham Tri Club in Cheltenham. I swam in Dover harbour with all the other channel aspirants under the watchful gaze of Freda, Barrie and the gang. What they do every weekend from May to September is just amazing. My bosses and partners at work. My friends who encouraged and swam with me. Rob, Mike and Andy on the boat. The wonderful Alison Streeter and crew. And the most important person of all, the one who still inspires and made me feel warm when the cold and dark were at its worst, my wonderful wife Vickie.

(Observer Andy, Crewman Brian, me and the great Alison Streeter)

I made it!!!!!

This is the briefest of posts as I will go into more details when I have had a chance to sleep and reflect on what was without doubt the hardest, most mentally draining experience of my life. I am so so glad to have completed the swim, my crew (wife, father-in-law, and friend Rob) were brilliant, Alison and her crew were sensational and helped sort me when the guts went pear shaped and the observe Andy Dickson was just a wonderful helpful encouraging force.

I landed just South of CGN, having been swept slightly past the point by the big tide, in a time of 11hrs 6min. I am just literally over the moon to have completed what had become an all consuming obsession this year.

More to come..........

I've had "The Call"

My pilot has contacted me to say there's a window of opportunity Monday night. The conditions look like they will be relatively calm. 12.30am start to be precise, looks like a mild night. The tide is a bit big (it's about as big as they get - 6.7m) but if the conditions are good and if I can get across within two tidal movements than I hope to be landing on the French shores some time late Tuesday morning. The excitement is building!!

Carbo loading with intent!

Weather forecast not looking great!

I had a wonderful weekend in Dover just gone. The sun shone all day Sat and Sunday. I met up with a doctor from Australia - Stuart, who is over to swim the channel and for the first time I had someone to swim with which made the time go much more quickly. I swam 3hrs both days and when I got out on Sunday I didn't even feel cold. However the weather forecast for this week has taken a dive and it doesn't look great for many crossings at this stage. My pilot also has an extra swimmer to get across so I would be very unlikely to go before the start of next week or maybe not even until the next tide in another 2 weeks (my original tidal window). I'm not too worried about it, I haven't booked time off work because I knew it could be unpredictable. The major disadvantage is that schools go back and Vickie will be back at work which makes things trickier if I get a call at short notice. Such is the nature of channel swimming. We'll just have to wait and see..............

Set to go!

Looks likely that I will be swimming the channel towards the end of next week. The next window starts the 26th August and my pilot Alison Streeter only has two other relay teams set to go. Weather dependant of course but I have put my order in for calm seas, baking hot sunshine and a very swift crossing. Here's hoping it all comes together.

Windermere Success!!

Saturday night the 8th of September was the bi-annual, 2-way, 21 mile, Lake Windermere swim. Below is my account of this rather gruelling event.

We drove up to the Lake District last Saturday afternoon arriving just before 5pm to see the first wave of 3 swimmers entering the water. One chap was being filmed for an ITV documentary and entered the water initially in gladiatorial cape, helmet and sword before reverting to the regulation speedos and swim cap. I managed a quick snooze before we had to start getting ready for our 8.30pm start time. 4 other swimmers had started at 6.30pm and there were 6 in my wave. My support crew (everyone had to be accompanied by a rowing boat) was Grant Bates (my cousin), Hugo Hedley (a Cheltenham friend) and Vickie (my wife). They all strangely seemed to enjoy the experience; Hugo even thanked me at the end for accompanying him on his overnight rowing adventure. At the start I greased up, well assisted by Grant who seemed to enjoy covering me in grease more than Vickie thought was appropriate. I met a man from Liverpool at the start who was in one of the official support boats, he recognized me from Liverpool Penguins having coached me 26 years ago! He has also swum the channel and said he was the only scouser to do so. When I said I could be the 2nd he replied “Not with that accent you can’t!”. We started at 8.45pm and I quickly shot away from the ‘pack’. About an hour in I had cooled somewhat and had a little mental wobble as I wondered why on earth I was doing this crazy swim but fortunately soon after we came upon Belle Island which is just under half way down the lake and that re-enthused me. We turned at the end of the lake in just under 4hrs 20min and I wondered briefly whether I might get close to the record of 8hrs 44min. The return leg was a real mental test as I tried to just swim from each 30min feed to the next one (old channel advice). Eventually we came upon Belle Island again and I began to feel that the end was attainable. I had suffered increasing nausea through the return leg and was eating/drinking less and less and by the last hour my arms felt like lead. We could see the lights on the pier at the finishing site for over an hour and it seemed to take an eternity to get closer. As the sky started to lighten I felt strangely amused by the thought that I had swum all through the night, starting at dusk and finishing at dawn. I eventually finished in dead on 9hrs, the 2nd fastest male time ever (I think one lady has swum faster also). I was the first finisher, having past all the earlier swimmers through the night and I was just over an hour faster than the 2nd placed swimmer. I had only really entered this event as a good pre-channel test. The same distance and a chance to practice night swimming and feeding. Jimmy (the scouser) said it is 30% harder to do Windermere with less buoyancy in the fresh water and water and air temperatures generally colder than what you face in the channel. I do feel very encouraged by the swim, on previous Windermere and Channel finishers times it seems that the Channel takes 30min to an hour longer to do, tides, currents and chop probably adding to the duration. 5 weeks to the channel although there is a chance I may go in 3 weeks (the tide before) if an opening is available. Alison, my pilot is keen to take swimmers early if they are ready to avoid missing a slot on their own tide if the weather is bad.
24hrs on, I don't feel too bad, my shoulders are a bit stiff. Ironically Alison texted me this morning to see if I was ready to go this Wednesday (she had got her swimmer lists confused), I think Wednesday was pushing it recovery wise anyway!