Nothing Great is Easy ~ Captain Matthew Webb

I'm stealling the words of Captain Webb the first person to swim the channel to title this post... I think it's apt.

The phrase it's not the desination it's the journey is true - the destination was fab, but the journey and the people met along the way were truly amazing......

Channel swimming is not a glamorous sport nor is it an individual sport. I may have been the person that did the swimming but behind the scenes were a team of people who helped me along the way and I don’t want the thankyou’s to get lost at the end of my story. Some of these people have been there from the start; others came in along the way and stayed for the journey. Before I tell my story I want to say thank you to them as without them this would never have been possible.

-    Mark – my boyfriend who was there from the start kept me in food, clean clothes, clean house, crewed both swims, training partner, alarm clock, car buyer, voice of reason, support swimmer and all the other support I could ask for in one.

-   Clare McGirr – my relay partner who put herself through hell with me in 2011 and came out the otherside, she hated Dover training but did it and never gave up. Her support this year from afar has been amazing and the card sent to me before my swim made me remember how far we both had come to get to this point.

-   Nick Adams and Sakura Hingley who have been there from the start spurring on the original idea, provided advice, voices of reason, encouragement, training sets, asked how I was doing and Nick who helped crew my swim, fed me on copious amounts of maxim, was a tweeting monster, entertainer, rock collector and photo taker extraordinaire.

-   My pilot Neil Streeter, his crewman Jock and observer ‘smiley’ Alan.

-   The Dover Beach crew – Freda, Barry, Irene, Michelle, Emma and the others who come along each weekend from May-October to help support swimmers reach their dreams in all weather. Without the training, feeding, bollocking, hugs and help none of this is possible.

-   The Serpentine Swimming Club and all it’s members, their encouragement and support throughout the last two years has been amazing. Especially those who provided support with eating and training – Jenny, Neil, Andy, Furry, Miss T, Leanne, Boris, Ange, Russel, Mike, Norm, Steph, Colin, Sophie, Kevin, Mark & Rob.

-   The other dumplings Tory & Deirdre whom I have shared more romantical weekends and dinners in Dover with than Mark in the last 3 months, spent hours swimming in the Serps and Dover and shared the hard task of trying to be a channel swimmer with throughout the year. They provided encouragement for eating as many burgers at maccas as we could, voices of reason when I had stuffed up and were awesome passengers keeping me awake driving to and from Dover.

-   My family and friends in the UK and Australia – you have no idea why I wanted to swim the channel, but you supported me from the start even though you thought I had two screws loose and may well been certified. You listened to the incessant swimming chat, asked how I was, sponsored me and plugged my swim to anyone who would listen.

-   The swimmers who I met in Dover, shared the harbour training with and the odd chat at a feed or the walls, you are what makes this experience memorable.

-   All the people who donated to my chosen charities in Australia and the UK helping me raise valuable funds for cancer research which is a topic close to my heart.

The journey from social and sporty aussie, swimming, cycling & doing the odd triathlon while experiencing the best London & Europe has to offer to channel swimmer took close to 3 years and started in September 2009 with a drunken conversation in a pub over one too many bottles of wine with some Serpentine Channel Swimmers. This got me thinking, growing up swimmers were my heroes, especially the likes of Susie Maroney & Shelley Taylor-Smith they had swum the English Channel among other distance swims. I had a fascination with distance swimming especially the channel, and why/how people managed to complete such feats, as an adult I continued to be intrigued by it but only ever got up to 5km swims. The question of could I really complete what my childhood heroes had done still burned. Was I strong enough mentally and physically to do it? The answer at that point in time on both counts was a resounding NO. 

Spurred on by the over confidence and naivety that too many vinos brings, my bestie Clare and I decided we would book a channel relay slot for 2011 and see if we could get a few others to join in and from there it spiralled. Another night, another bottle of vino and we made it a proper challenge - a two man relay, this would provide a test for me as the stronger of the two swimmers and give me a good indication of whether I could hack it as a soloist. Throw in a 2010 Loch-Ness relay with the Serpentine Ladies, my first 6 hour swim at a training camp in Gozo, a 16km swim down the length of Lake Annecy and a few more conversations with people who have been instrumental in my journey from the start, I decided I would book a 2012 solo slot and keep it under wraps until the relay was over. Though I couldn’t help myself and one day while walking through Hyde Park after doing a triathlon in September 2010 I said to Clare “I think I’m going to swim the channel solo”. The words were out I had committed the cash now I had to commit myself.

Fast forward through 2 summers in Dover training, countless hours in the pool and the serpentine and here I was standing at 2am on Wednesday 25^th July in the car park of Dover Marina about to attempt what I had been working towards and what my childhood heroes had done. To say I was nervous was an understatement. The boat was still in it’s dock as the pilot was sleeping, everyone else was packing their boats and leaving, I was wandering the car park, shaking, feeling like I was going to vomit and going for a nervous wee every 10 minutes. Through the darkness I spotted Irene from the beach crew wandering through the car park, I shouted out to her, she didn’t recognise me until I told her who I was, then she imparted her final words of advice “swim from feed to feed, all you need to think about is getting to that next feed” that stuck in my head for the entire swim. On the boat the team consisted of Neil the pilot, Jock his crew man, Alan – smiley observer, and my crew Mark and Nick, a small but very effective team of people who were going to be responsible for getting me to France. 

Around 2:30 we loaded the boat, once motoring out of the harbour toward Samphire Hoe (the start point) I was taken to the top deck for sunscreening, greasing and final preparations. Nick gave instructions while, I stood bent over leaning on the side of the boat as Mark donned the gloves and first lathered on the sunscreen, then came the Vaseline and lots of it, under the arms, between the legs, neck, straps, anywhere that was likely to rub. Cap, goggles, lights, all on. Neil reversed the boat up quite close to the shore, my job was about to start, last goodluck kiss from Mark and over the side I went. They shone a spotlight to the shore, I swam toward the light, got out, got myself sorted and gave a huge wave… Then the screams of GO came back, deep breath, then I waded into the water and started stroking toward the boat - next stop FRANCE.  The glow sticks lined up against the side of the boat gave me something to look at, along with the lights around Mark’s neck, other than that I had not a lot to see and I was alone in the dark.

The nervousness wore off after what I think was 30 minutes, but then the doubts crept in. I was barely at my first feed when the monster’s entered my head. I knew I had to tell them to f-off and I just had to think about my feeds. I thought I’ll count my strokes until my next feed, counting, counting, counting, finally I saw lights and a reel which meant it was feed time 1 hour down, I didn’t say anything just grabbed the bottle, chugged down the warm maxim and kept swimming. I was cold and unhappy, I wanted out, I also needed to poo but couldn’t. I remembered my conversation with Boris (who had completed his 3^rd swim two days earlier) the night before, his words in my head, “you’re going to feel cold and miserable until the sun comes up and once it does your world will change – hang in there”. He was right I was cold, miserable, couldn’t see anything except the side of the boat, the demons had entered my head and I was having problems telling them to f-off. I then thought of what Nick had joked about a few days earlier about how someone had gotten out after 2 minutes – that person wasn’t going to be me. I thought of the two successful channel swims from our club on days preceding me, plus all the people supporting me & that had already donated to my charities around the world (even though they were all warm and likely asleep) and Mark standing on the side of the boat in the cold drinking cups of tea – I wasn’t going to let the team down. This started to work, a few more man up princesses were needed and I had made it to the second feed. Second feed chugged down, still cold, this time I said hello, and asked for food for the next feed, that would give me something to think about for 30 minutes.

Then somewhere in the midst of this the sun came up, my highlight apart from finishing is watching the sunrise over the English channel. Swimming on the left of the boat and bilateral breathing meant I had a first class view of the sunrise over the English Channel. To me it was breathtakingly beautiful, it started as a red/orange line on the horizon then a cherry red ball started to appear and rise slowly in the sky. This took away all the doubts in my mind, I was calm and I knew I would be fine. I had a new strategy, breaking my swim into blocks of 4 hours 8 feeds and count down the feeds, once the 4 hours was over I would get ibuprofen and in the middle I could request paracetamol if I wanted - something else to look forward to. I only requested food when I really wanted it as the first piece, a Milky Way took too long to chew and stuck to my teeth, food of choice from then on in was peach slices, I could neck them in almost one swallow and they tasted nice. Just before 4 hours I was starting to feel low again as I couldn’t see any ships, then in the distance there was a ship, woo hoo I was in the SW shipping lane, my listening during channel geography sessions was paying off.

I noticed some movement on the deck with Mark and Smiley Alan at around 4.5 hours, lots of movement, I couldn’t see what they were doing, wasn’t too worried as Neil was still at the helm although sticking his head out to either say something or have a look. I kept swimming, figured they would tell me at the next feed if it was urgent. Then it all calmed down and the boat was covered in Australian flag bunting. I had an inkling it may have come from the lovely Clare but didn’t find out until I asked after the swim. It made me smile and remember where I came from, and the contents of the card she had posted two weeks before. Meanwhile my crew were feasting, Mark made bacon sandwiches for everyone, they had diet cokes which they kindly displayed for my amusement, crisps, pepperami, chocolate, the works.

My strategy was working and I was quite happily swimming along, at 6 hours I asked if Mark would jump in at 6.5 hours something else to look forward too and someone to get cold with me. I was swimming through some serious sea weed which I thought meant I must be close to the separation zone. When Mark jumped in Nick then provided the entertainment, first was nipple rubbing, pulling faces, then came food throwing, he kept himself amused by flinging cheddar biscuits at Mark as if they were discuss. Kept me amused too as I saw them float past my head and attempt to hit Mark in the mouth.

I assumed my feeds were coming on time, I had no idea, I just swam, thought about my family, my grandparents then at around 9 hours I saw a ship going in the opposite direction, I was in the NE lane - woo hoo – well and truly over half way, no stopping me now. Queen’s don’t “Don’t stop me now” played for a good 30 minutes over and over in my head as swam through the cold patches of the NE lane, they took my breath away at points, another song to sing “take my breath away woooaaaa woooaaaa”, followed a bit of waltzing matilda and I still call Australia home just for the hell of it. 

At 10 hours I was on the edge of the French inshore waters and could see France. Big mistake looking at France as you can see those cliffs for a bloody long time before you get any closer to them, but I already knew that from the year before. Paracetamol was delivered at 10 hours to ease the pain and at 10.5 hours I forgot to ask for Mark to come in with me at 11 hours, so that meant delaying him until 11.5 hours when I remembered to ask again. By this stage I had wind against tide and my nice glass water day had turned choppy. When Mark came in I was asked for an hour of power, I knew this moment was coming and I was glad Mark was in there with me. I also knew I wasn’t swimming very fast, but Mark’s long slow strokes made me want to swim faster, I wanted to keep ahead of him, it was hurting, everytime I breathed left I could see Cap Gris Nez getting closer and closer. Quick feed at 12 hours more vile maxim, it was a competition every time I fed to see if I could keep it down, I was feeling sick and gagging, but when Nick yelled “put in the big ones” I knew this had come from Clare and how important it was that I give it everything I had. I was turning my arms as fast as I could, but I watched us sail past Cap Gris Nez and my heart sank, I knew I had missed the Cap, this was bad very bad, but unbeknown to me they had delayed my feed for 10 minutes to get me out of the tide.

When I fed at 12.5 hours (or a little more) I was told I had missed the cap to which I responded yes I know it’s over there – but then the magic words came from Nick or Neil I can’t remember who, you’re in the bay and out of the tide all you have to do is potter in now. I was taught how to say please don’t touch me in French “ne touchez pas moi s'il vous plait”. Utter relief and for the first time during the whole swim experience I started to cry, then I administered my final man-up princess you don’t want red eyes in your photos. Just before my last feed I was visited by Sea Satin on their way back from the bay with a successful swimmer, everyone was at the side waving and clapping and the siren was whooping, I was almost there. I was fed a lovely warm tea then all that was left was a 500m swim into the beach, I followed Nick and Mark in, they took photos in the water and once I got to a point where I could stand I started to wade, when my knees were at water level I started to jog up the sand and jumped over the water line arms in the air for a victory salute! I had done it, I had swum to France. Big hugs from Mark and Nick, I think I said “I did it” about 20 times to Mark and couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. The next 5 minutes were spent taking photos, collecting rocks and stuffing them down our costumes, before swimming back to the boat where the fun began.

Mark managed to get me dry and dressed quite quickly and Nick squeezed in some photos with the cap in the background before I started puking up my maxim. As I said channel swimming is not a glamorous sport and puke I did. All that quadruple strength maxim and the odd peach slice was coming up at a rate of knots. Nick of course couldn’t help himself and the last tweet sent was a picture of me head in a bucket hurling. On arriving back in the docks I was greeted by Emily, Steve and Zoe, the two girls had swum earlier in the week and had come to say hi to a fellow channel swimmer. Then it was off to the White Horse with them to sign our names on the ceiling – It’s official I’m a Channel Swimmer in 13 hours 17 minutes and what a journey it was to get there, one I will never forget and has changed the shape of my life.