Jersey to France

Well - I did it. I swam from Jersey to France yesterday in a time of 9.04.

It was a beautiful day - only the gentlest of breezes, and warm air temps, with water temps around 16 degrees. We set off at 7 in the morning, motoring out from St Catherine's Bay to a small beach, where I hopped off the boat and swam to the shore. I got the okay from the boat and waded in and started swimming. The water was flat calm and clear, and we soon settled into an easy rhythm of steady swimming and hourly feeds. On board was pilots Charlie and Mick, along with Chantelle, who had very generously given up a day of her holidays to help me out with feeds, plus acting as camera woman and general all-round supporter.

As usual, it took me a couple of hours to really settle down mentally and to just settle into a quiet headspace. At first, I was really distracted by the whole idea of the swim, wondering whether I was going to be able to finish, and obsessing about the later hours, but I eventually managed to calm myself down and just focus on swimming from feed to hourly feed. Mostly, I made do with Maxim, plus half a banana or some jelly babies every couple of hours. Happily, it all went down fine, although towards the end, I was starting to wishfor ANYTHING but Maxim, and don't want to eat / drink anything purple for a while.

For the first 5 hours, the sea was calm and the conditions easy and I was feeling great. For some reason, hour 6 was tough. I felt really achy and sore, and my energy levels felt like they were dropping. I thought I'd perhaps run out of steam, which was worrying so far from the finish, but after the 7 hour feed, I suddenly picked up again, so it was probably just a bit of a crash while the body adjusted where the body was metabolising energy from. Around that time too the wind picked up a bit, and there were some swells rolling in from my left. I'd been spoiled by the flat seas earlier in the swim, but in fact, these were fairly easy to swim in - regular and rolling, rather than slappy and unpredictable - and my pace didn't really change from earlier in the swim - c. 2 miles an hour, with a stroke rate of 62/63 throughout the entire swim.

By hour 8, I was feeling tired, but allowed myself to start thinking about finishing; I was so excited by the prospect of walking up the beach (and quite keen to be able to stop swimming!). On Sally's urging (relayed via Chantelle), I resisted the compelling urge to look up for the beach with just a mile to go, but unfortunately, we were heading into a wide bay, and every time I breathed to the left, I could see a strip of beach, which just never seemed to get any nearer. I knew I had a mile to go, which I reckoned should take about 30 mins; plus, I could feel waves coming in behind me, occasionally enabling me to surf forwards on them, making me think that I was probably making even better time. But what I didn't know was that as soon as I got pushed forwards by the swells, I was being pulled backwards again because the tide had turned - something that you can't feel in the water. In the end, it took me an hour to cover the final mile, and I was starting to think it would never end, but I finally saw Chantelle getting changed into her costume ready to join me at the finish (you've no idea what a welcome sight that was), and the boat stopped as the water shallowed. I carried on swimming until my knuckles grazed the sand, and I stood up and walked clear of the water. What an amazing feeling!!!

We took some pictures, picked up a shell and a stone, and then we swam back out to the boat, to a cheering Charlie and Mick. Charlie helped me negotiate the ladder and dug out my towel, while I plonked myself down on a bench, feeling a bit shell-shocked. I got changed and settled down for the 3 hour journey back, but unfortunately, within half an hour, I was back on Channel relay form, head in bucket. I'm really not built for boats. I felt sorry for Chantelle - she'd been feeling really queasy on the boat all day and was already looking distinctly green around the gills, so I really didn't make things any better. In between communing with the bucket, I did a live interview with BBC radio Jersey too, although I'm not sure how much sense I was making at that stage.

We arrived back at St Catherine's Bay at around 7pm, where the club swim was in progress. As soon as everyone saw the boat, they headed back in and I was met on the slip by a huge crowd of 70 or so people, clapping and cheering, giving hugs and handshakes. After a few minutes, I noticed that I was starting to shake - it was a combination of being a bit cold after sitting on the boat, and also, a massive energy crash from having been seasick and not having eaten anything since finishing the swim. I couldn't face anything sweet, and someone was dispatched by Sally to get me a toasted cheese sandwich from the cafe, which did the trick. As if by magic, by the time I had finished eating, my stuff had all been offloaded and was being taken up to my van for me, and I mustered the energy to drive back to the campsite, where I shared some of Jamie and co's chips and then stumbled back to the van to get showered and fall into bed.

So, all in all, a very successful day out. It feels really good to have completed the swim in a reasonable time and in fairly good shape. I've got a few aches and pains today, mostly in my right wrist and lower arm for some reason, but nothing serious, and my energy stores are replenished after a day of dedicated sitting about and eating everything that comes into reach. It was lovely to get up this morning and look out across the campsite to France, and to think "I swam there yesterday"!

None of this would have been even remotely possible without the expertise of Charlie and Mick. Charlie poured over the weather charts and picked the perfect day for me, and the piloting and navigational skills of him and Mick meant that I got where I wanted to be successful and safely. Thanks guys - you're wonderful. Also, Chantelle was a complete star, always ready with my feeds, treats and encouragement, plus taking lots of great video footage. She'll be doing the same swim in August, and I don't doubt for a moment that she'll be successful. Thanks to Sally for acting as communications central, and to everyone who sent messages of support and encouragement, which were passed on to me during feed breaks and always gave me a boost.

I'm heading home on Saturday to begin planning out the final stages of my training for the big swim, but in the mean time, I'm going to carry on sitting about feeling pleased with myself, and enjoying what was a great day out in the water.

Pictures and hopefully some video to follow once I've worked how to download things from my new video camera ...

Well done, Penny

Let's just take a moment to applaud my swim-training partner, and all-round, doggedly determined triathlete, Penny, who finished Ironman France in just under 16 hours. It's a brutal course (there's a 13 mile climb in the middle of the bike course - 13 MILES...up a mountain), and an already tough day was made a million times harder by the fact that the anti-fog spray that she'd used burned her corneas (after years of using the stuff without any problems), causing her profound discomfort and seriously blurring her vision for the next 15 hours of the race. Penny is one tough woman, and an inspiration.

Countdown to Jersey

Just heard from Charlie Gravett - as long as the weather behaves as it is expected to, I should be heading to France at 7am on Tuesday morning. Fingers crossed....

Dover weekend

Down for my second Dover weekend of the year. It has to be said that this was not my finest performance, mentally or physically, and my confidence took a bit of a knock. I had been feeling tired, post-Ireland, all week, and did very little swimming, except for a gentle skills and drills club session, and a lazy hour at Bosworth, so felt like I should get back down to it. So, there I was on Saturday morning, well-fed and ready for what I assumed would be a good, long swim - 7 hours, as we were soon instructed. Part of me had reservations about doing such a long swim 9 days before Jersey to France, and in hindsight, it may have been a mistake, but I set off, determined to consolidate the work I'd done in Ireland. However, by the three hour mark, I was in trouble - my shoulders and back felt achy and uncomfortable, and my energy levels kept dipping quite erratically. My stroke felt awkward, especially as the water became increasingly choppy. It was a beautiful day, and I tried to concentrate on the sunshine, swimming from hourly feed to feed, but it was getting hard to ignore my aching shoulders and upper arms, and the muscles in my groin and lower back were cramping really badly. I finished the 7 hours, but it was a real struggle, and I was pretty disheartened by the end of it - if I was in that state after 7 hours, what would I be like after 10, 12, 15...? Would I even be able to keep going for that long?

After I got back to the campsite, I did everything I could to maximise my recovery with a view to having a better swim the following day - protein shake, lots of water, beans on toast, a nap, then pasta and an early night. However, by later in the evening, I couldn't ignore the niggling pain in my right shoulder and upper arm, and started to worry that I'd pushed too hard whilst too fatigued from the Ireland camp, and had injured myself. I spent the evening getting myself into a bit of a negative frame of mind, but had a long chat with Peter who advised me in the strongest possible terms not to swim the next day, or for the next week - that I needed to let myself recover fully for Jersey, and that, contrary to my tunnel-visioned panic, missing one swim now wasn't going to ruin the whole Channel attempt (I have problems with perspective sometimes!). Good advice....and a welcome voice of reason for my swim-addled brain.

So, on Sunday morning, I went down to the beach as normal, but with no intention of swimming. I'd decided instead to use it as a research day - a chance to observe the swimming from a different perspective, to chat to people on the beach, to help with feeds etc. This was a good decision, as my shoulder was still niggly (although not as bad as it had been the previous evening, which gave me cause for optimism)...even if I had to fight the recurring urge to get into the water because it was such a scorcher of a day and the water was deliciously, alluringly cool and glass-flat. But I held out, and instead, enjoyed the opportunity to see what it all looks likes from the beach. It was also a rare chance to take some photos, which I never get to do because I'm always either getting ready to swim, swimming, or recovering from swimming...

The six hour swimmers head out:

Freda prepares to give instructions to the yellow hats:

Neil gets greased up by Barry:

The beach crew are truly amazing - keeping track of who's in / out of the water; greasing everyone up ready to swim; preparing and delivering feeds; offering encouragement (and occasionally threats) to wavering swimmers. And for anyone who is crazy enough to think they're not getting good value for money....you should see the amount of stuff they get through taking care of us...

Barry's clever cup-holder:

Cliff looks very chirpy at hour 5:

Tired swimmers warm themselves up on the hot stones:

So, even though the weekend didn't turn out quite as I'd hoped, by the end of the day, I was feeling reinvigorated and much happier. My shoulder felt much better for the rest (and has continued to improve to the point where it is now no longer niggling at all), and I managed to turn a missed swim into a productive research observation day (on a beach in the blazing sunshine... how fabulous is my job!). So, all in all, not a bad outcome.

And now I need to get myself ready for Jersey to France...lots of rest, good nutrition and hydration, and lots of positive thinking for the big day, which looks like it could be early next Monday morning. Very exciting.

Sandycove pic

Great picture from Neil of me emerging from the water at Sandycove last week. I'd like to think
that I look triumphant at the end of another long swim, but I can't help but think I look a bit like I'm drowning. Look at the beautiful setting, though.

I'm feeling much better now that I've had a few days of rest and gentle swimming; off to Dover today for more.

A great way to go mad...

I finally made it home after a long, hot drive, and have had a little time to reflect on the the Ireland camp, and to think about where my training is going to go next.


I reckon that I did 33 hours of swimming over the 9 days, covering approximately 100km. This is WAY more than I usually do, and I've found it utterly exhausting, but at the same time, am delighted that I managed to complete every single swim in reasonably good shape. The swimming was absolutely amazing, in a wide range of stunning locations; the company was excellent; the weather was fantastic. I really enjoyed being able to swim and chat with people with so much swimming experience, and who are as lost to the whole Channel swimming thing as I seem to have become. As someone on the camp noted, there is something quite mad about this whole business, but what a great way to go mad. Thanks to everyone for such a great week.

Looking forwards, rather dauntingly, it's two weeks until my Jersey to France swim window opens, and 8 weeks to the start of my Channel swim slot. I'm hoping to go down to Dover next weekend for a long swim, and then to rest a bit before J2F; after that, I'll hopefully be focussing most of my training on the Dover weekends. I feel like my prep has gone well, and I just want to consolidate as much as possible, whilst staying as welll as possible.

This is all starting to get a bit serious now....

6 hour swim

The last day of the camp – 6 hour swim day. I woke to bright sunshine filtering into the van, and cooked up porridge, toast and coffee, plus juice and plenty of water. I packed up the van, ready to head up to Dublin after the swim, and drove down to Sandycove for the last time, sipping from a bottle of Maxim in preparation for what was to come. It was quite crowded down there –a good turnout for the final day. We were briefed about feeding (which would be from the beach on the island) and then lined up in the water, ready for the starting horn. I was feeling quite tired, but reckoned that swimming while fatigued would be good mental practice for the Channel. Unlike the previous day’s constantly changing swim course (in the interests of torment and confusion), the goal for the day was simply laps of the island – in my case, two an hour – a pace which I managed to sustain, with about 10 minutes in hand at the end.

This was a very uneventful swim for me. As usual, it took me a couple of hours to feel comfortable, and I was having a little difficulty getting the maxim down – there’s been a lot of the purple gloop in my life recently, and I think I’ve reached saturation point. Because it was such a sunny day, I managed to force about 500mls per hour down, supplemented by the occasional jelly baby (the swimmer’s friend), and a couple of bites of cereal bar. As the swim progressed, the sea outside of the cove became increasingly rough, and by my last couple of laps, it was becoming a bit of a fight, which was fun (if a bit hard on the shoulders). I don’t know how I would cope with that for hours and hours, but it was completely manageable knowing that I would soon have some respite in the lee of the island, where the water was flat and peaceful.

All in all, it was a lovely swim. Many thanks to Ned, Lisa and Ruth for spending many hours on the beach, always ready with the right bottle and some words of encouragement when we pitched up for a feed. It felt good to get another 6 hour swim done, especially on top of such a heavy week of swimming. A few of the other swimmers went on to do 8 hours, which is deeply impressive. I would have loved to have stayed in, but I was really conscious of the fact that I had to give myself time to recover and make sure that I was okay to drive safely up to Dublin, which takes about 4.5 hours in the van. So I called it a day at 6, changed, cooked up a pile of pasta to refuel, drank gallons of water, stood about chatting, and then finally forced myself to leave the lovely, light-hearted post-swim, post-camp atmosphere and headed north.

It felt like a long drive up, but after 10 days in the van, I was delighted to arrive at the hotel that colleagues at DCU had booked for me, where I had a well-earned beer, and then luxuriated in the joys of a hot bath, fluffy dressing gown, and a thick down duvet. Bliss.