I had my first chat with my pilot, Eddie, earlier today. He has looked at the long range forecast for next week and it looks as though there might be a window on Tuesday. It won't be a big one, but there might be one. So we'd be setting off in the early hours of Tuesday morning, with a few hours swimming in the dark and then into the dawn.
I can't allow myself to get excited yet as it's still only long range. But fingers and toes are crossed.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
The Channel General
After Sunday's three hour swim, without a feed:
Channel General: How was that then?
Me: Great, thanks.
CG: How did you feel without a feed then?
Me: Yes, fine thanks. No problem.
CG: Do you hurt anywhere?
Me: No.
CG: Bugger.
Channel General: How was that then?
Me: Great, thanks.
CG: How did you feel without a feed then?
Me: Yes, fine thanks. No problem.
CG: Do you hurt anywhere?
Me: No.
CG: Bugger.
Sunday's Swim
Sunday morning was another swim in Dover Harbour, again, three hours without a feed. The water was pretty lumpy for the first hour (it just gets a lot of wind chop as there's no swell given the shelter from the harbour wall) but then settled down. It didn't feel as warm as on Saturday and the water seemed dirtier as it was more churned up. Perhaps some of the novelty had just worn off and I wasn't quite as excited as the previous day...
Kevin made it down to the beach at about 12.30, given that he hadn't got home from observing for the 19.5 hour swim until 4am. He introduced me to Miyuki from Japan, who already has six solo swims under her belt and, last year, a 29-hour swim on an attempted double crossing. Once, Kevin tells me (as Miyuki speaks no English) she completed a six hour training swim in the harbour and then got the call from her pilot to swim that night. Off she went and swam across the Channel.
Kevin also introduced me to Jackie Cobell, the lady who recently set a new world record for the slowest crossing of the Channel in 28 hours 44 minutes. What an incredible lady.
When Kevin (finally) stopped talking and got in the water for his swim, I headed back to Yorkshire to catch up with family. As I drove away I thought about what it must be like for those who live in southern England who go down to Dover every weekend to train for a season or two in the lead-up to their swim. I feel lucky I have been able to change my training locations, from Coogee to Manly to Balmoral, to keep some interest; I imagine swimming between two walls in Dover harbour could get pretty tedious if you did it every weekend. But then to be a part of that community would be really quite special, and I imagine would leave quite a void after the swim.
Kevin made it down to the beach at about 12.30, given that he hadn't got home from observing for the 19.5 hour swim until 4am. He introduced me to Miyuki from Japan, who already has six solo swims under her belt and, last year, a 29-hour swim on an attempted double crossing. Once, Kevin tells me (as Miyuki speaks no English) she completed a six hour training swim in the harbour and then got the call from her pilot to swim that night. Off she went and swam across the Channel.
Kevin also introduced me to Jackie Cobell, the lady who recently set a new world record for the slowest crossing of the Channel in 28 hours 44 minutes. What an incredible lady.
When Kevin (finally) stopped talking and got in the water for his swim, I headed back to Yorkshire to catch up with family. As I drove away I thought about what it must be like for those who live in southern England who go down to Dover every weekend to train for a season or two in the lead-up to their swim. I feel lucky I have been able to change my training locations, from Coogee to Manly to Balmoral, to keep some interest; I imagine swimming between two walls in Dover harbour could get pretty tedious if you did it every weekend. But then to be a part of that community would be really quite special, and I imagine would leave quite a void after the swim.
Channel Stories
I spent Saturday afternoon drinking cups of tea on the couch of Jane Murphy, wife of Kevin Murphy (King of the Channel), along with Freda Streeter, mother of Alison Streeter (Queen of the Channel.) I could not have been talking to two more experienced support crew in the world. Some of the stories they told were jaw-dropping (but probably not fit to be posted on a blog, to protect the identities of those involved!)
And then Neil Streeter, Freda's son and long-time Channel pilot, dropped in for a cuppa. We talked about the Channel for a bit, and then some more, and then some more. I was actually chatting about weather and tides in one of the most fickle stretches of water anyone tries to swim across, with people who know more about them than pretty much anyone around. I am so blessed.
Ever since the last couple of tide windows blew out in August, apparently the Channel has been 'weird'. Last week, the tide carried people up the Channel one way but then didn't really turn much and carry them back the other way, seemingly why several people didn't finish their swims on Friday (OK, that's not a particularly technical explanation so I'll just stick with the fact that it was 'weird'.)
Those who did finish last week took much longer than anticipated, on the whole. One man whom Freda said was a good strong swimmer of around the 10-12 hour mark took 18 hours. We got a text from Kevin at about 3.30pm on Saturday afternoon. He was observing for a solo swimmer who, after about 9 hours, was 5 miles from the Cape. It then took him another 10 hours to finish. An incredible swim of 19.5 hours, but much longer than expected.
I absorbed all this and am preparing myself in case the Channel is still 'weird' next week. I will keep swimming as long as it takes. Freda's main piece of advice: "Never, never, never ask how far you have to go," because, as evidenced on Kevin's swim on Saturday, no one on the boat will ever be able to give you an honest answer and you might not like what you hear.
Just keep swimming til your feet hit sand.
And then Neil Streeter, Freda's son and long-time Channel pilot, dropped in for a cuppa. We talked about the Channel for a bit, and then some more, and then some more. I was actually chatting about weather and tides in one of the most fickle stretches of water anyone tries to swim across, with people who know more about them than pretty much anyone around. I am so blessed.
Ever since the last couple of tide windows blew out in August, apparently the Channel has been 'weird'. Last week, the tide carried people up the Channel one way but then didn't really turn much and carry them back the other way, seemingly why several people didn't finish their swims on Friday (OK, that's not a particularly technical explanation so I'll just stick with the fact that it was 'weird'.)
Those who did finish last week took much longer than anticipated, on the whole. One man whom Freda said was a good strong swimmer of around the 10-12 hour mark took 18 hours. We got a text from Kevin at about 3.30pm on Saturday afternoon. He was observing for a solo swimmer who, after about 9 hours, was 5 miles from the Cape. It then took him another 10 hours to finish. An incredible swim of 19.5 hours, but much longer than expected.
I absorbed all this and am preparing myself in case the Channel is still 'weird' next week. I will keep swimming as long as it takes. Freda's main piece of advice: "Never, never, never ask how far you have to go," because, as evidenced on Kevin's swim on Saturday, no one on the boat will ever be able to give you an honest answer and you might not like what you hear.
Just keep swimming til your feet hit sand.
Training in Yorkshire
£3.90 to swim in an over-heated indoor 25m pool.
No wonder I love ocean swimming in Australia.
No wonder I love ocean swimming in Australia.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
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.
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.
What a send off
I had the most beautiful send off last week from Anna & Millie at Balmoral. I couldn't even finish the double muffin stack they bought me. And I'm sure all in Awaba cafe thought we were mad drinking champagne at 8am (and yes, I did have a sneaky wee tipple.) I wonder whether they'll still be there tomorrow morning...
I have had the most incredible emails and text messages and if wishes could carry me to France I'd be floating there right now.
I have had the most incredible emails and text messages and if wishes could carry me to France I'd be floating there right now.
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