Channel 5 Relay Swim Report

For the swim report read on…for the “post swim” thoughts click here

"Channel 5" kicked off their relay crossing of the English Channel on 20th July 2006 at 7:09am.

After each swim, we captured some thoughts from the swimmers and here they are unedited!

Julian report for first swim (hour #1):
"Bit choppy to start as waves bounced off the cliffs of Dover. Calmed down a bit as the hour went on. Chasing another relay about 150 metres ahead. Mike, second swimmer, is now in. Would be a superb day if it weren't for the wind, cloud & occasional rain! Onward to France."

Mike Denbigh swam second (hour #2):
"It remains fairly choppy. Distance to other relay reduced to 100m (but they have now switched to their other swimmer!). Water was a good temperature. Swallowed lots to test it. Disappointed that Backgammon not ready when I got out"

Third swimmer was Kevan Sharp (hour #3):
"It was difficult to get used to the swell and waves coming at you. After about 5 minutes, I found a rhythm. Found the hour went very quickly. The English Channel is now shallower since I swallowed most of it!"

Fourth swimmer was Sue Hart (hour #4):
"Compared to the harbour, I got washed around a lot like being in a washing machine. I was alright when I first jumped in but then I really panicked-I'm not going to be able to do it!! Then I got into a rhythm and I was fine. I couldn't hear anything much from the boat. But I could see everyone who was watching and could recognise the voices!"

Fifth swimmer was Andy Scholes (hour #5):
"Much less choppy than I expected. Hour flew by. It was great to watch the smiling faces on the boat. But b*****y glad that I'm not doing the full 14 hours"

And then we were back to the start again. Other relay still in sight and Julian is back in to try to catch them (hour #6):
"After 4 hours on the boat, it is nearly a relief to get back in the water. I dive in to impress the crowds and goggles come off. Water temperature hasn't improved in the last few hours and 1 hour seems quite a long time again. Do the counting to 100 for each 5 minutes. Then realise that will have to count to 1200 for the hour! But soon out, the competitors a bit closer and it is over to Mike for the glory of catching them! Onward into the separation zone"

Mike Denbigh returns to the Channel to close the gap on Guillivant (hour #7):
"Didn't kick much because of fear of cramp. Good to see smiley faces on boat. Second outing was slightly colder but somehow easier. Must be the euphoria. Definitely easier in the water than on the boat. Thought of Jelly Babies kept me going!"

Seasickness count: 1 person 2x & a couple of "solos". Lots of swell means unlikely to be the last!

Kevan was next up (hour #8):
"Swim was fine but kept getting caught by waves when breathing. Waves were coming at me in perfect harmony! Every breath seemed to be water! The result was that I was sick about 5 times. Stamina-wise I am okay but purely the sickness that is affecting me. Now it is a mental challenge for me to see how far I can go."

Sue then followed (hour #9):
"I didn't want to go in. I was really scared of the waves and of getting really cold. But once I was in it was okay. I thought about everybody. Thought about Alison Streeter who has done it 43 times and Ellen Macarthur. And just kept going. I missed the 45 minute signal cos I thought Julian was signalling something about my stroke!"

Andy swam the 10th leg (hour #10):
"Sun came out. Hit a fantastic rhythm and overtook the other relay. MUCH better than the first leg because stroke worked harder (and much less paniced!). Breathing also settled down and less phased by the waves covering me. Now hoping for glory leg up on to the beach!"

Julian returned for 3rd set of swims (hour #11):
"Sun on the back made a huge difference. Only problem was that it is descending in the west where the wind is coming from. So the boat shielding me from the wind also obstructed the sun. So I moved either further away from the boat or swam slightly behind (trading diesel fumes for sun!)"

Mike swam the 12th leg (hour #12):
"It was the best of the 3 legs. Romantic with the sun behind the boat. Water warm in patches and the end in sight (we hope)"

Kevan was next for his 3rd leg and the 13th hour:
"With France on the nose, Kevan returned to the water. He was suffering badly on the boat from seasickness but was much more comfortable in the water again (after a more leisurely entry in which he did not swallow the rest of the channel). He got into a smooth rhythm and it wasn't the swallow, be sick, breath rhythm of the past!"

France was about 4nm off when Sue also entered for her 3rd swim and the 14th hour:
"It was great to see France so close but it was still terribly hard to get back in the cold water for another hour. I asked for 15 minute signals during the hour but they seemed to take ages to come! Eventually it was all over and I was back on the boat but very cold and hoping against hope not to have to go in again!"

Andy completed the 3rd swims and the 15th hour:
"The sun was setting as I got in. I had to wear a lightstick on my goggle strap so that the boat could see me easily in the dusk. I knew it was important to make as much progress as possible since we were rapidly heading east with tides and might end up in Calais harbour with the ferries!"

Julian started the 4th swims and the 16th hour:
"Andy had fought hard against the tide but it was so strong that we had mainly moved sideways. France was tantalisingly close but not getting much closer! The tide had let up slightly at the end of Andy's swim so we changed course a bit and I had to try to sprint for an hour. It was now pitch black and although I could hear the cheers from the boat I could see noone! An hour is a long time in the dark with only a lightstick and phosphorescence for company. The stories of giving up yards from the shore spurred me on for the hour."

Mike entered the water 0.9 nm from the shore and the 17th hour:
"Couldn't see much as I entered the water but we could smell France! I got disoriented in the first 15 minutes by the dark and the Calais lights. I even ended up on the wrong side of the boat. But we headed in towards the harbour lights and before I knew it the team on the boat were shouting '5 more minutes'. I turned towards the lights because they seemed to be telling me to head out to sea but they shouted to head in the other direction. Then they shone a light on the rocky harbour wall and I could see it wasn't open water they were pointing me towards. I swam in and touched the rocks. Then I had to clamber up them to prove we were indeed on French soil!"

The crossing lasted 16 hours 50 minutes. Each team member was pushed to the end of their reserves but the support from emails & texts kept them going through the low points. We were even featured on Kent radio with a "live" interview with Sarah (she was selected as Head of Media due to her excellent "radio voice"!) and the swim reports wereread out during the day.

In the end it was a fantastic experience over a long year of training and even longer 17 hours of swim (+3 hours back to Dover in the boat and 1 back to Sevenoaks in cars!). Finally the 2 children's charities will benefit massively from everyone's generosity...and it isn't too late to pledge by clicking here!

 

Channel 5 Relay: Team member reflections

Below are the thoughts of the individual team members, reflecting on what the swim meant to them looking back (from the safety of land!). They are ordered as always by swim order! Which means I always get to go first!!

Julian Critchlow (swimmer #1)

At the end of my 2004 solo swim, I felt a completeness that I have rarely felt. A long term aim, concluded. In a very satisfying time. With a good amount of money raised for 2 charities. I could tick “Swim the English Channel” off my list and it couldn’t be replaced by anything bigger – because let’s be realistic, there isn’t much that is bigger than swimming that passage of water!

But most of all, after all the pressure of the training and the sponsorship raising, now I was free. It was akin to a “post-exam freedom”. I didn’t need to go down to Dover – except perhaps in solidarity for the traditional start of the season swim! No more driving down the M20 motorway, experiencing odd nausea in my stomach on a Friday (Would Freda give me 4 or 6 hours? Would I die this time?). And no more all-embracing tiredness post the Dover harbour swims.

But soon I was back at work and my rigorous training regime was forgotten. My body knew it, losing fitness fast and putting on weight. After a year of periodic attendance at the gym, I realised that it would have to be back to the pool. So in mid 2005, I started Sunday mornings in the pool – as soon as it opened at 7:30am, I would be in the door and then I could complete my swim and be back home for 9am to cook Sarah and the children a traditional Sunday cooked breakfast.

I was joined in my Sunday swims at first by Mike Denbigh, and then later by Sue Hart, 2 parents of children at the local Primary School which my own children attend. Initially their motivation was to train for the Sevenoaks Triathlon but one evening, Mike came up with the idea of doing a Channel Relay on behalf of the school. His wife, Liz Denbigh, subsequently added the idea of supporting a national children’s charity as well - Starlight Children’s Foundation which helps alleviate the lives of terminally ill children.

Somehow this idea stuck and we were soon recruiting additional team members. Ideally you need 6 for the “traditional” channel relay but you can do the crossing with any number of swimmers and be classified as a “special relay”. In the school yard, we quickly signed up Andy Scholes, another parent and then on an evening down the pub, Kevan Sharp had one too many pints and became our fifth and last team member.

I hadn’t really intended doing another swim but figured that a relay would only mean around 3 hour long swims so wouldn’t require the same level of training as 2004. However, borrowing a practice from my solo swim, I initiated early on monthly team meetings with formal “agendas” to ensure everyone stayed focused on the task in hand. The meetings were held at one family’s house, everyone brought food and, despite the abuse that I received over the “agendas” were always good social evenings with an element of work attached.

The monthly meetings were important to reinforce the training regime (laid out in “anally retentive” detail at the first meeting) and to ensure fund raising started early with “informative” emails to friends and clients. Although for some team members (Liz, Mike, Sarah & Tracey), the dinners repeated content from my solo swim (e.g. preparation for seasickness, dependency on weather & tide etc) for most team members it was all new. A few DVDs thrown in (the Eton v Harrow relay, my 2004 solo and the film “On a clear day”) brought reality home for the “new” channel swimmers.

My personal experience of the training though was completed different. Instead of forcing myself into 3 hour pool sessions or 6 hour cold water sessions at Dover, I found myself training 4 new team members in “front crawl with bilateral breathing”. I also found it hard to force myself out of bed for the Sunday sessions since they felt more “optional” compared to my solo training sessions. But 100% team attendance meant 100% team attendance! In fact we kept attendance records and Sue Hart was at the top, followed by Andy Scholes & Kevan Sharp, Mike Denbigh and then me just behind (hampered by some late, drunken Saturday nights!).

The day itself was also entirely different. The build-up to a potential “early season” attempt – with the last minute hassles involved in 5 families being farmed out at the eleventh hour so we could head down to Dover. Or the “should we/shouldn’t we” standing in Dover harbour. The responsibility of saying “we should” and then the regret as the boat was pummelled by wind & waves on the way out to Shakespeare Beach. The tension before each first swim. The build-up in pressure as each swimmer realised that they had to go back in again after 4 hours warming up. And then again for their third swim.

But the worst was the dawning awareness, as dark set in, that everyone would need to swim a fourth time. Everyone had prepared for 3 swims – but not 4. And in the last 2 hours of the 3rd swims, we had not got any closer to France! Luckily the tide had turned and I swam the first of the 4th hourly swims and was able to make progress towards Calais. Then Mike (#2) was in and pulled us the rest of the way. Then we had made it when only 2 hours before I doubted that we would!

A team swim is so, so different from a solo. It is tougher in many unexpected ways. But to see the team accomplish its common aim was just as satisfying as any solo accomplishment.

Mike Denbigh (#2)

Background - Oct 05-ish

So here we are, a group of parents looking for ways to raise money for the local village school, something unusual, something which will hopefully inspire people to put their hands in their pockets a little deeper than usual.  But what?

 One of the parents in the village swam the channel solo last year and raised loads, so what if a group of parents did the same but as a relay?!

The idea was born and within days a team of 5 village school parents were coerced to   undertake this quest. Key to the success was Julian, he fitted every criteria required, he had swam the channel as a solo swimmer, he was a parent of the school and he had the planning abilities and enthusiasm needed to complete the task.  

Reality Dawns Nov - Mar 05/06

So how hard can it be? 5 people each swim an hour in rotation across a stretch of water. On the face of it it sounds not too unrealistic. BUT, Julian was quick to inject some reality into the situation.

You have to be committed to train for hours and hours every week for months!

You have to be prepared for the cold (And I mean freezing cold)

You have to be mentally tough (Something you don’t really appreciate until much later).

You have to forget that you will be swimming in potentially unpleasant water.

You have to shut out the fact that this is the busiest shipping lane in the world.

You have to be prepared to be very uncomfortable and potentially sea sick when waiting your turn in the water.

You must not allow yourself to succumb to your fears.

Etc.etc….

The upshot is- YOU HAVE TO BE PREPARED.

What seemed like an exciting thing to do suddenly was very daunting.

Training – Oct 05 – July 06

If I was training alone it wouldn’t have happened. To get up and allocate time each week to swim endless number of lengths can be mind numbingly boring. However, to do it with 3 to 4 others made it bearable. Especially as over the initial months of pool training we could all see improvements in stamina and technique. For some the improvement was awe inspiring (Sue Hart – the smallest and the bravest of us all, by miles) and for others the injection of  a bit of healthy competition never goes amiss.

By April we had progressed as far as we needed in the pool and our attentions turned to Dover Harbour. Well, you don’t know cold until you swim in waters of less than 10 degrees C for more than 15 mins. People fail at this point and I can understand why. If as a team we had all turned to each other and said no way, it would have been understandable.

Again, having someone like Julian leading us meant those sorts of ideas were quickly quashed.

The shivering and shaking, the loss of speech and dexterity through cold is not something you can prepare for. This is where mental toughness (or stupidity) comes to the fore. The old adage no pain no gain has never rung truer but the gain is months away and the pain is constant if not slowly diminishing as the weeks pass.

Until the day of the swim you never really appreciate the benefit derived from swimming in Dover Harbour. But benefit from it we did.

Key to Success - Support

Without large amounts of support from family, friends, fellow swimmers, people on the beach dressing you, people on the boat encouraging you, feeding you, laughing with you it just won’t happen.

It was very humbling and uplifting to receive so many words of encouragement from a vast cross section of people. You do get a sense of the enormity of the feat you’re preparing for.

The companionship between swimmers is very special; to see familiar faces descending the beach to enter those chilling waters each week creates a feeling of one big happy family, even if it seems like the Adams family!

The Swim

To get an overall feel of the day then please read the reports (Julian’s work, again).

For me it was a case of getting my mind well and truly focussed on the job at hand. I felt slightly selfish in that my priority was to swim and not be the cause of the Team to fail, rather than be 100% a team player, if that makes sense. Swimming alongside a boat is a little unsettling, not really knowing if you’re covering much distance or if you’re going in the right direction is frustrating. But you do and you generally are. Beware though, once you start powering through the waves you can’t make out a word of what’s being shouted at you from those on board.  

The conditions on the day were bad, the crossing slower than any expected and to end up swimming in the dark (as a few of us had to), slightly disorientated, not able to hear what people were shouting and knowing France is getting very close is a lot to adjust to. That said the delight of clambering up the harbour wall at Calais to bring the swim to a finish was bloody brilliant. Funny how you forget the barnacles, crashing waves, pitch black, large lumps of concrete inches from your head and the support boat some 100+ meters away at such times!

If you’re thinking of swimming the channel then I wish you good luck, it’s definitely worth doing.

Kevan Sharp (#3)

Having left work late on Wednesday evening, I received a phone call from our team Captain (Julian) to say that, if we all could make it, the swim would be tomorrow (Thursday)! He would pick me up at 04:30 the following morning to start the swim at 06:00. Made a few frantic phone calls to ensure it was okay to take a day (or two) off then phoned back to confirm okay.

As arranged, picked up at crack of dawn and drove bleary eyed down to Dover. Weather looked good all the way there….until we reached Dover, where - not for the first time - it was fairly overcast, windy and generally not a very nice day. The boat pilot was unsure if the weather was good enough to even attempt the crossing. The wind and water swell were at the very maximum of allowable weather conditions with variable force 3 winds.

We decided to travel round to the departure point on Shakespeare Beach to see for ourselves what the conditions were like. We were very sceptical as the support boat was being thrown about by the swell. However apparently the swell is worse close to the shore as the wave get deflected back off the shore/harbour walls.

We arrived at the beach and after a few moments thought the pilot turned to us and passed the buck squarely into our court

 “Well…it up to you whether you go!”

After a short team meeting - noting that we all had put plans in place to be at this point - we decided rightly or wrongly to go for it. So at 07:00 the first team member jumped off the back of the boat and swan for the beach. The rules say you must start from the beach.

At 07:09 our attempt at the channel started.

Spirits and confidence were high on starting. We expected the rough seas to calm further out away from the shore. Unfortunately this was not to be. The waves seemed to break over us and we estimated the swell at times to approach 10ft. Jumping off the back of the boat into the swell was more difficulty that it looked. As you jumped into the waves, you expect to surface in a short time, but because of the swell, the surface had risen while you are underwater, and fighting for breath before even taking a stroke is not a good start.

My first swim went well. The long training sessions obviously paid off. Relief when first relay stage over. Felt okay but as soon as I got back onto the boat became violently sick. I needed to find somewhere that I wasn’t being thrown about all over the place. Unfortunately there isn’t anywhere like that on board a small boat crossing the channel. I therefore remained feeling sick until it was time to get back into the water on my next leg.

I didn’t recover at all well and within a few minutes of being tossed about in the waves, and swallowing half the English Channel became horribly sick again. And again while treading water trying to catch my breath in amongst the rising and falling swell. This made things worse since I had stopped swimming (unsurprisingly). The support boat had moved slightly ahead of me and I was covered in the diesel fumes from the exhaust of the support boat. This was scary.

If you swim towards the boat and accidentally hold onto the boat, then the challenge fails. Touching the boat while swimming is strictly against the rules. The best I could do was to swim completely away from the boat (which is against your natural instinct) and recover in the open water. This I managed to do. It is not easy being sick AND swimming. Having composed myself I managed somehow to continue my relay leg.

Feeling weaken by my illness, I tried to recover on board whilst we continued toward France, finally seeing our destination about 16:00. This cheered us considerably - an end in sight.

Unfortunately the weather had taken it toll on all of us and the tide was changing for the worse, sending us north. As fast as we could swim in towards the shore we were being pushed up towards Calais. We had only hours to achieve our goal or because of the tide we would fail. We had heard many stories of failures so close to the French coast because of the tide.

We swam on now into dusk and the night-time. France still getting no closer. Light sticks were attached to the swimmer goggles as in the pitch black of the channel it was extremely difficult to see the swimmer. This was beginning to get a bit scary. Finally at about 23:00, the pilot called out “0.4 Nautical miles to go”. We looked forward unable to see anything. Then 300m to go, still nothing. 200m to go and finally the wall of Calais ferry harbour rose up from the sea in front of us, the waves breaking against the boulders of the harbour wall.

We touched home at 23:50 after 16 hours 41 minute

After cracking a bottle of Champagne (to hell with the sickness), we each found a corner of the boat to sit down and get whatever sleep we could catch during the 3 hours boat trip home.

It has all been a fantastic experience nearly a year of training, experiencing the first cold water swim and finally the crossing. Not to mention the support and encouragement from friends and family. Finally it is great that the 2 children charities will benefit from everyone’s generosity.

What a journey!

Sue Hart (#4)

There were lots of things I expected to feel during the swim like seasickness, cold, excitement, exhausted. I felt all of these things. What I didn’t expect was to feel so emotional (especially when I tried to speak to Mum & Dad or my husband, Ian, on the mobile phone). What I didn’t expect was to be on such a high & feel so good for so long afterwards. I also didn’t think – although I tried to have no expectations – that I would be quite so hard as it was.

When the day finally came, I was very glad. We had been training for a year. I had done the hour and a half in the harbour [in colder water than on the day of our swim]. I had made it right across from one side of the harbour to the other – a big milestone. I felt ready. It had become such a huge thing. Everyone I knew in the world plus some I didn’t were sending in best wishes & big cheques. I really didn’t want to fail. I wanted to swim well & not let anyone down, especially myself. I had to do this.

My first swim was fine. I was shocked when I hit the water. I panic-ed a little, had that normal feeling of thinking “I can’t keep this up for an hour”. But then I got into a rhythm & realised the waves were not so bad as they looked from the boat.

The hour felt like a long time & I was glad to see Andy getting ready at the back of the boat & to hear the two minute signal was bliss.

I timed my seasickness well & never felt sick when I was in the water, unlike poor Kevan. It was difficult though to eat. My body just didn’t want it. I couldn’t swallow.

I was scared as Kevan’s swim was ending & it was time for me to get ready for my second swim. The waves looked very uninviting & BIG. I made the mistake of telling my team members that I was scared. There was no doubt though in my mind that I would go in, I just told them how it was. In hindsight, I should have kept quiet. They may have thought that I was wavering.

I felt powerful in the water & felt the huge team effort of everyone watching from the boat – especially Julian. I didn’t like it when he disappeared from my sight.

On my third swim, I felt fine going in but I never warmed up. I was freezing the whole time. I had asked Julian to give me the 15 minute time signals. I thought that they must have forgotten to give me the first one and any minute now they will tell me that I have done ½ an hour. My heart sank when the 15 minute hand signal went up. I knew I was okay. I knew I would do it but every part of my body was screaming & telling me to get out.

I tried to count to 100. I thought of everybody on the boat and at home. I knew that I was going to do the hour & I tried to pull hard to warm up and swim well. But really I think my achievement was just staying in. It was so cold & the sun was going down. I looked for Andy at the back of the boat. He was so long coming, I actually started to hate him (sorry, Andy, like it was your fault).

At last I was out, freezing but happy. I had done my last swim. I was quite a long time warming up and was very focussed on myself. Sarah & Liz helped me to get dressed. We were laughing. Everything seemed okay at this point. Moments later I was at my lowest ebb. I went to look at the horizon and my heart sank. It had not changed in over an hour and a half. I went and sat in the pilot’s cabin to try and warm myself. I curled up on the seat and my spirits got lower & lower.

Ian phoned and I told him “I want to come home now”. He was great and gave me a pep talk. Andy then walked past me & I told him that I couldn’t go in again. At that moment, I meant every word. I was even thinking that if I had to move away from Ide Hill rather than go back in to the water then I would. I wasn’t scared of the dark, the waves, the sea, anything – purely the cold.

Andy had now finished his 3rd swim. I heard a lot of talk of Julian going in and giving a big push to get us in. He told me previously that he would be finishing and now it looked like we would all be swimming again. No way. No way. I knew I should be out on the deck cheering Julian on. I could only half hear what the pilots were saying but it didn’t seem good. I also got completely paranoid & thought Andy had told them I wasn’t going to swim again.

Afterwards, of course, it all seemed ridiculous. Andy had said nothing to anyone & he didn’t think I would have to swim again & that’s what he had told me but I thought he was just saying that to cheer me up & get away from me to go and get something to eat. I felt everyone was talking about me.

Anyway I finally pulled myself together and went out on deck. Mike was in the water. I was willing Mike on. Please don’t let me have to go in again. Swim, Mike, swim. Everyone was so charged up, strong & determine. I was back with the team.

And then so suddenly – I still don’t really understand how – it happened. We could see the wall that we had to reach. It was so exciting. We had made it. It was done!!!

Andy Scholes (#5)

Dealing with Challenges along the way:

1. First swim in Dover harbour – 29th April

Felt nervous for about 2 days before it – only had 2 glasses of wine on my birthday which gives a fair indication of how serious I was taking it.

Had to get used to the cold water. Yes it was cold and it takes your breath away. Managed to get my head in the water and exhale heavily. Two things then happen. You realise that you can’t see a thing in the water and you get an acute headache. Natural reaction – take your head out of the water and try to do crawl with your head out of the water.

Look around you and realise 10 other people are doing the same thing, swimming with neither grace nor style. Trust your team mates that they have a watch and they will turn you back before too long. Then just go 1-2-3 breath (repeat as necessary).

Catch first mouthful of water – lose rhythm and then have a mild panic. Notice everyone else is still going and decide it is better to stay with “the pack”.

Get back to the beach. Your mind says – OK, that was an achievement; I must go and dry off. Your body says - try to stand up. Fall over. Try once more – hold on to the nearest person and then stumble up the pebbles. Towel, dry, thermal top and try to curl up in a ball. Try to get dressed but body not following normal rules. Ask other people’s wives for help getting dressed – its much easier, but don’t try it at home. Realise after a couple of cold water sessions you have a 2 minute window to get dressed and after that your body shivers uncontrollably. Mentally OK, but body not playing ball.

2. Open water swimming in general

Getting used to doing a reasonable distance and realising that you can take the risk of not being that close to the shore. Also learn the impact of the tides which can really swirl you round when near either end of the harbour. After the 5th training session stopped worrying about proximity to the beach and simply focused on rhythm and going in a straight line. Experienced cramp once, and quite glad as I followed instruction and worked it off and kept swimming.

Learning your limits – the impact of cold – (49-57 °F) – after that it is OK.

1.      Headache – intense at first but goes away once breathing gets deeper and a rhythm gets going. Whole body feels cold for first minute and then the core starts generating heat.

2.      First part to suffer was my feet. Lost feeling but that doesn’t matter as all they are doing is kicking anyway. They just don’t allow you to walk easily afterwards. Your feet feel wet for the rest of the day after swimming.

3.      Next to suffer were the hands – the fingers lose the ability to stay together and spread out. Remember thinking do you clench fist or just keep up normal strokes.

4.      Next was the kidney area on the back which started to hurt gently and generally indicate that you were getting cold there too.

Sure enough, as promised, once the water reached 58 - 60 degrees + it actually became quite pleasant, the sun shone and you could stop worrying about your body shutting down and concentrate on getting from A to B. On the day of the Relay none of these things were a worry and it actually felt warm.

3.         Swimming front crawl.

I had always been a competent swimmer but always swam breast stroke. Discussed relay and first thought – I don’t mind but will do breaststroke if too difficult.

Went to the pool and decided to try 4 lengths of crawl. Third length starting to roll a bit and 4th length really not elegant. I trained using pyramid for 4 weeks, building up from a start of 2 lengths and then working up to 2’s to 6’s, then 8,10,12 and up to 14 with 30 second rest between each. Great start for me as it got me into the mind set of “only 6 more“ or “only 10 more” and that was often the biggest incentive when you could count down the target. Also mastered bi-lateral breathing by the second session which helped massively.

After training the Pyramid went from 14 to 40 in one go and then added 10 lengths at a time until 80 and worked on speed and rhythm thereafter

Some recollections of the swim day:

On driving into Dover on the A20, the waves around the harbour wall had white horses on them which, combined with the mist and low cloud, made it look generally unappealing. On parking up in the marina it was clear that all the flags were blowing horizontal. I remember reading a weather manual once and basically horizontal flags meant it was high wind. Birds don’t fly in high wind (or indeed the dark) and hence common sense said that perhaps we shouldn’t either!

Nice to see Sue’s parents there – it made it seem a bit more real and personal and importantly they also looked quite relaxed.

So we were there. Kevan kept up the Cassandra thoughts - “should we really be going in this” - with a philosophical view of “better to try and succeed in the right conditions than try and fail”. This was an interesting team dynamic as Kevan’s views were often the ones at the opposite end of the spectrum to Julian’s. However he often verbalised what most of us were probably thinking. Liz didn’t miss the opportunity either for a moan in the harbour before we left. Decided to walk down the pier to meet up with Neil Streeter (pilot). He didn’t seem too bothered about it. In fact, he didn’t seem too bothered about that many things at all.

So – off we went “ to have a look”. I have to say it was more windy and waves were more than you would generally care for swimming in when on holiday. But hey, we weren’t on holiday, Dover was here and France was there. We had done the training and paid the money, so lets go! Internally I was saying no, but Neil, Julian and the other Relay team thought it was do-able so I cheerfully voted “go”.

So - a couple of hours in and waiting for the 5th leg. Felt fine until the last 40 minutes and then started to worry quietly. How long does the hour take? Will I see any seaweed? Are there any jelly fish? Stomach started to feel tense. Got changed, Vaseline-d up and kept jacket on until last moment.

Jumped in the water and although nervous felt better than on the boat, and started off as fast as I felt possible, windmill-ing the arms in a cadence fashion rather than pulling each stroke right through. The water was much clearer than the harbour and you could see the plankton. Also it was less salty. Biggest single motivator: seeing that there was a familiar face on the boat, who was looking out for you with the occasional hand signal. Biggest demotivator: for a couple of minutes watching 4 backs turned on deck, who were clearly enjoying their sandwiches and a good chat.

Motivating others:

Interestingly as the day progressed fell into a natural cycle of who motivated who in the water – it tended to be those who were at least an hour either side of your swim hour who had warmed up and eaten, so naturally two hours later you returned the favour.

Learnt it was very important to develop hand signals as you can’t hear a thing as you swim. A “Nobo” board would be good for messages for a solo swimmer.

Swimming at night:

The light stick was really annoying, wedged between shoulder and ear. As dusk fell the boat lights appeared, and it was great to see the lights on Calais as the waves bobbed around. Night vision developed and you could once again identify the faces on the boat – note: important not to shine torches at the swimmer. Interestingly in complete darkness I felt more at one with the water and the swell seemed more consistent so breathing fell into a good rhythm and didn’t get swamped by any waves. This was a big barrier overcome and actually the biggest memory of the day.

Overall:

A great way to learn a little more about yourself and a lot about the team out there with you.

Sarah Critchlow (“media”)

To be added

Liz Denbigh (“supplies”)

To be added

Tracey Rawlins (“medical”)

To be added