First swim in Dover

I arrived in Dover on Friday afternoon and headed straight down to the beach. It was blowing pretty strongly out there and the white caps were dancing. BUT...... I could see the cliffs of France in the distance. I was quite beside myself with excitement. If I can see it I can swim it!

When I got back to the guesthouse I discovered several swimmers were out that day. I was quite surprised given how strong the wind seemed so that was lesson number one learned.

I have been on the Channel chat group for two years now, reading about the Dover harbour training sessions. Every Saturday & Sunday from the first weekend in May (when the water is a chilly 10 degrees) to the last weekend in September, swimmers head down to Dover for training. As the tides ebb and flow, the numbers dwindle through the season as swimmers head off to France.

Manning the shores is the infamous 'beach crew': Channel General, Freda Streeter, and Shingle Stompers, Barrie & Irene. The beach crew volunteers its time every weekend, sitting there all day, in all weathers, marking people in and out of the water, greasing them up, feeding them, all to help people's dreams come true. Their generosity of spirit is humbling.

It was such a thrill to be here and finally put names to the faces. I couldn't have been made to feel more welcome. And I was reunited with Jane Murphy (Kevin was out observing on a swim.)

Freda told me that Saturday's training swim was three straight hours without a feed. After having demolished a fantastic English breakfast at the B&B there was no way I needed any more feeding anyway so that was fine by me.

Dover harbour has two walls either side that would be about 1.2km apart and you swim between them. At the ferry wall end you swim beneath the shadow of a white cliff and Dover castle. As I swam by it for the first time the smile on my face was so wide - I was really here - swimming beneath the white cliffs. Breathe to the right and I could see the P&O Ferries coming in and out (safely on the other side of the harbour wall so they're not near any swimmers) - this was it, I was really living the dream.

The water seemed much cleaner than I thought, although when I got out I realised that the white lining of my new cossie was never going to see a lighter shade of caramel again. And it was much much warmer than I thought it was going to be. In fact, instead of the mocha that I usually dream about when I swim, I couldn't stop thinking about eating an ice cream. When I later spoke to Kevin he told me it was 17 degrees. I've obviously come a long way if I think that's warm!

The beach was an odd place on Saturday. Last Wednesday, five out of five swimmers made it across; on Friday, four out of five swimmers didn't make it, so it was a mixture of joy and sadness at the beach with hugs all round, regardless of the outcome. At some points it feels as though the Channel is a bit of a production line these days, with people queueing in their hundreds to swim each year. But then I don't think there's anywhere that has created such a swimming community as this place. And everyone on that beach is training for the same thing. We can only hope to understand the elation that comes from setting a foot down on French sand but also feel the pain of those whose dreams have come crashing down - for now. As they say, the Channel will always be there another year.