The Final Assault!

  Now, where did I leave you? Ah yes, just off the coast of France at Cap Gris Nez lighthouse feeling ‘fresh as a daisy’.. Not! The wheel house door flew open and Reg appeared.. “You are doing okay.. now you need to dig in and.. sprint!” And with that , my pilot went back to the wheel. I knew exactly what he wanted. Four years of preparation, research and training. I had studied many charts and listened to many tales almost exactly the same as mine to this point. This was no surprise to me.. but the question was hanging thick in the afternoon air. ‘How long for?’ I should not and dare not ask. Not that the crew would have given me a straight answer anyway. The psychology of a swim like this is immense! Equally important at the planning stage as anything else. Visualising the finish, thinking strength, happy thoughts, all of you followers and ‘investors’, my children on the beach waiting… right arm….. left arm… right… So when Reg uttered these words I knew that the final tide was kicking in at almost 6km/h! I had to fight my way through and sprint to make landfall! I started out strong, sprinting for all I was worth. I understood. Failure is forever! I use the word “sprint”, because to me, it was. My stroke rate increased back up to about the same as the beginning of the day, however, my arms were tired; especially the left arm. It smashed it’s way through the waves instead of clearing and reaching forward. I felt every single stroke. This is normal after approximately 10 or 11 hours of swimming. The first feed arrived, I felt tired but good. The second feed arrived.. ‘when will the sprint be over?’ The third feed arrived and I could see the beautiful white chalky cliffs of Cap Gris Blanc, some 2 or 3 miles east of Cap Gris Nez. A fantastic expanse of sandy beach lay before me, a mere 2 miles away. Still, the tide was dragging us along the coast. Finally, we broke through the tidal lane which accelerates eastwards off Cap Gris Nez and began to aim towards the beach. I was exhausted. For the first time, I questioned what I had left within me. I was giving this my all. Possibly more effort than I had ever asked of my body before during an endurance event. The boys called me in. ‘What?’ Feed already? That seemed awfully quick. In all honesty I probably wasn’t terribly lucid at this point. “You are going in!” “What??” ‘You are going in to the beach! You are going to make it, but first you must feed once more. You need this to get to the beach.’ My mind was dizzy but the focus remained completely clear. The prize was there before me and I was exhausted. I saw Ray lowering the dinghy to escort me in, and David appeared next to me, once more ready to guide me towards the beach. I can tell you that I didn’t need guiding. Like an ‘old man, pension in hand, I rushed towards the ‘bingo hall’. My pace was painful and the last strokes were killing me but the beautiful beach with rolling sand stretched out before me and the water temperature was rising 18/19C. It felt like bath water! No really, it was! I thought that I would overheat after all those hours in the...

On Our Way..

We were on our way! Once we left Dover marina we were in the ‘black of night’ travelling underneath the dark menacing presence of the ‘White Cliffs’ to ‘Samphire Hoe’ halfway between Dover and Folkestone. This was the start point according to tidal forecasts and Reg’s knowing wink.   After much debate between the nervous boat crew, Hagar lost the toss and had to ‘grease me up!’ Check my equipment.. steady girls… ‘strobe lights on’, cap and goggles adjusted! I then descended down the steps to the dingy waiting below in the cold night.     Ray, Reg’s brother helped me aboard and we motored off to the beach. We arrived in the stillness under the cliffs and Ray said.. “Ok, slip over the side and you should be able to wade in from here.” The swim must start and finish on dry land. Following orders and keen to get moving in fresh night air, we shook hands and I thanked him for everything and slipped over the side. Straight under, ‘splutter, choke’. It was far from shallow. I came up laughing, trying not to choke. My ‘old crocks’ shot off my feet into the dark night and cruised away. Yes, I know they had to go anyway!   I swam in and cleared the water, standing there feeling naked. The boat horn sounded. The swim had started. Strobes flashing in the dark cold night I began my first few tentative strokes.   ‘Goodness, I wish that I had learnt to swim properly.’   ‘Don’t rush, warm up slowly and don’t push it straight away.’   I was like a finely tuned carthorse startled out of the farmer’s field. By 0700 the sun had risen and the night to day routine had begun. Feeding every 30mins from a delightful menu of warm carbohydrate liquid, black tea with sugar, bananas, peach slices and mars bars, I swam on at a good pace. Reg, in need of a rest, came out of the wheel house. “Good swim, you’re doing well” And off to the bunk he went, handing control to his brother Ray. When he woke a few hours later the fun and games had began. After swimming really strongly at about the 3 hour mark, I had a ‘shoulder twinge!’   Immediately, I asked the boys for medication. I dosed up with painkillers and anti-inflammatory tablets. On I went at a slow cruising speed. However, there would be a penalty to pay later, regarding the tides.   I swam on and begun to settle after the scare realising that although I had to nurse my shoulder, the much revered prize was still possible! I was not feeling too tired yet, operations normal. This was truly a testament to the years of training, events and preparation that I had endured. It felt good.   I was very lucky and the some of the team got to experience swimming with me. The rules state that the first three hours are solo and there after a support swimmer may join the swimmer for one hour every other hour. For me it was truly about sharing this amazing experience, out in the middle of the Channel. Very important, as at least one of the boat crew (TBC) will attempt a crossing in a couple of years.. ‘when his wife lets him’. On we went remarking how strong the tide was at each feed, as I was swept aside like drift wood. The water was...

We have a swim on our hands!

  I am absolutely overwhelmed by your following, your messages, good wishes and enthusiasm.. Thank you so much. It is an accomplishment that I truly have not come to terms with at this point and one that I know could not be achieved without my amazing ‘Boat Crew’, your support and the incredible support received from Virgin Atlantic.   I have sat for the past three mornings feeling most moved, having a mug of tea on a bench, on top of the cliffs looking across the water towards France. I realise that something should have been posted shortly afterwards to give you all the ‘run down’, a blow by blow account.. but sadly I was most definitely in a recovery phase after extreme effort. I have not experienced this feeling for many, many years. Unfortunately, my PR manager and chef was also absent.. “He had legged it when the rum ration was finished”!   I arrived in Dover on the 18th September ready for my tide.  Having done all of the hard work during training I was now ‘tapering’! Aiming to arrive at the point of departure in peak physical condition.. that would be a first!!   It consisted of a daily swims off Dover beach varying between 1-2 hours, whilst watching the all important ‘water temp’ begin to fall and eating as much pasta and grains as humanly possible. It was here that we ran into the fastest man in the world, Trent Grimsey from Australia. He holds the record for a English Channel crossing, made last year, 6 hours and 55 minutes! I noticed that he has a very similar swim technique to me.. “Right!” He is the one in the white cap in the middle that looks like a swimmer. Within a few days my trusted ‘Boat crew’ began to arrive and settle in. In amongst the briefings and equipment checks there was some serious ‘behaviour’ to contend with. And then the preparation came. On Sunday afternoon I spoke with Reg the pilot, as he motored back through the Dover marina entrance with an injured swimmer on the way to A&E (shoulder), who informed me that we were on for the following morning, Monday 23rd September at 1000, to be confirmed at 2030 that evening. Panic! I had totally prepared myself to swim ‘Night into Day’ and not day into night! The physiological advantages for me of swimming night into day were enormous. With the daylight or direct sun, if one is lucky, heating one’s back. But not day into the cold night, that was another ball game!! Consequently, I found any excuse not to rest and by 2030, when I called Reg. I was relieved when he cancelled his plans and told me to prepare for Tuesday morning the 24th! The swim was on! Monday was filled with a swim in Dover, just for fun with the Boat Crew, to ensure that they would fully understand the meaning of cold. Then back up to Base Camp for more eating and final preparation. I had a massage and dined at 4pm, ‘more pasta, arghhhh’. Then bed! Uhmmm.. yes, well, a couple of good hours sleep and I was back at the table for the ‘Last Supper’ with the boys at 9pm. A few heads down for a final sleep whilst I went back to bed before getting up for a breakfast of porridge and honey. More eating!   When I awoke, my guardian angel Philippe Fort...