Ned and the English Channel I

Ned Denison, July 21, 2005

In August last year I "signed up" to be part of a 6 person Irish team to try and swim the channel - over and back.

Within a few weeks, this had increased to 6 Irish teams of 6 each…..so Diarmuid and I upgraded our ambitions to solo (England to France) attempts. Diarmuid, one of my training partners, had previously trained for a year and then gone over in 2002 to swim the channel - only to have bad weather, over a ten day period, deny him even getting in.

So what motivates someone to try and swim the English Channel? Well, as kid you heard all the stories. As a middle aged man you long for a return to younger days of "imagined" athletic prowess. In my case, I just wanted to do something physically harder than I had ever done before (marathon, Kilimanjaro) - to test myself. I later found out that more people had climbed Mount Everest than swam the channel - so even better!

So, after a hard winter of training in all sorts of freezing seas and severe problems with my right shoulder, the real stuff started to happen in May. We needed to prove our ability to swim in 16 degree C water for six hours. So, instead of flying off to Spain (or some place sensible), we tried this in 10 degree C water in Ireland. Diarmuid and Imelda (a relayer who was considering as solo as well) made the full six hours, but I left after three hours with mild hypothermia. I had gained some weight over the winter - but now took on at least one Hagen Daz ice cream tub a night - and started to Dover 6kg (14 pounds) heavier.

I did get in the six hour swim in June in 14 degree C water with Anne kayaking next to me for the last five hours. She helped me to practice the eating and drinking which were a bit of a disaster in the May swim.

By later June the first 2005 lot of channel swimmers were in Dover ready to go. The whole lot of them waited for a week and went home - the weather just never permitted an attempt.

The relays

Next up were the now 5 relay teams from Ireland. This would set a record for most swimmers from any country at one time, youngest swimmer at 13 and the first ever father and daughter swimmers. Twelve of these were Cork based swimmers that we train with so they had huge local support. They arrived on July 4th hoping to swim on the 5th.

Poor weather on the 5th so delayed to the 6th.

Poor weather on the 6th so delayed to the 7th.

By now, the language was simply "flags snapping" to indicate high winds.

Poor weather on the 7th so delayed to the 8th at noon and several had to change flights home etc.

High winds at noon on the 8th so delayed until midnight.

All swimmers, support crew, boats, food, gear etc, assembled at the Dover docks at ten pm - only to have high winds delay the swim once more. Diarmuid and I flew in that evening. We were in constant phone contact during the week and by Friday night the team spirits were very low.

They had one more possibility - noon Saturday - after which their training would have been in vain and they would all leave without a swim. If they did go on Saturday - my first opportunity to do the solo would be bumped from Sunday 1 am - and possibly my second opportunity on Monday 1:30 am would also be bumped as a relay typically takes 28+ hours. Diarmuid was after me - so while we wanted the relays to get a go - it had a personal cost to us.

The weather (mostly force 3 to 4 winds) was still poor on Saturday morning - but the sun was out and some reports indicated improving conditions were on the way. We saw the relays off at the docks and managed to get back to our rented caravans in time to see the actual start at the base of the cliffs a few miles west of Dover. Even with the fantastic sunshine, we could see thousands of whitecaps on the ocean and the boats bobbing up a down a meter or two (6 feet) in front of the lead swimmers.

Over the next hours, the phone reports were very active. About 75% of the swimmers were seriously sea sick yet showing tremendous courage going on and on. The relay works on a set rota of six - each doing 1 hour in order. So, it was common for a swimmer to be down below deck, retching, being told that they had 5 minutes to get ready to swim.

The waves were large and angry. Several reported that they wouldn't have swum 10 minutes in these conditions "at home" - yet were battling out for the full hour. Several reported the extremely rough water to be nicer than the boat! The first casualty was a Dublin team of ladies - swimmer number six got in for 120 seconds and panicked. She was a very experienced swimmer but just couldn't cope. She came out. Their two way attempt had failed but the other five opted for continue and the next swimmer jumped in the water.

By ten pm, the teams were getting closer to France, phone coverage getting very bad, big waves and sickness continuing all with the comforting personal prospect of their next swim being in darkness.

We caught the next news around 6 am Sunday - all the teams made France and were on the way back - with some lessening of the wind. The second team then drew a disqualification - the father was to swim in front of the 13 year old daughter who clearly wouldn't be able to physically or emotionally continue. He refused to swim himself (to take the focus off her). This was a mixed team 3 from Cork and 3 from Dublin - with official observer being the lady who holds the record with 42 solo crossings. The three Cork swimmers made a decision to continue as a 3 person relay (so from 5 hours of rest to 2 hours).

All five teams made it "home" under swim power alone. Three scored two way 6 person relays, 1 did a one way 6 person replay and 1 did a on way 5 person relay. While it seems a bit odd - even where a few number of people "covered" for the drop outs - it isn't official. The quickest took about 27 hours and the longest was 32+ hours!

Diarmuid and I had just time to meet the teams for 1 pint before closing time and just about all left by 4am for Irish ferries and flights. A tired, yet happy, looking group with one of those accomplishments of a lifetime under their belts!

Ned's up

Diarmuid and I did very short swims (45 minutes) in Dover harbour on Saturday and Sunday - water was fine. We just wanted to "taste it" and stay loose.

At 2 pm on the Sunday afternoon the sun was shining and the wind lessening when I got the Captain's call to put me on notice for a 1:30 am swim on Monday. While I had a choice to swim or pass - I had previously made a decision based on others missing and almost missing swims that I would take the first opportunity. Kind of suited my personality as well!

Christer from Sweden, an experienced ocean sailor, had arrived Saturday as part of my crew and Chaz, an English friend, arrived just as the Captain called. Paul was the third crew - who could make any day except Monday.

I got mentally rested, tried to nap and at 9pm we prepared all the gear, food, etc. At 10:30 pm the swim was called off due to poor weather. And that's right - scheduled for 2am on the Tuesday 12th am! The "delayed until" pattern was starting all over again! I had ten days - but the first two just vanished and some forecasts were starting to look bad after Wednesday.

Monday was sunny with less wind that previously and at least from the cliffs looked like it would have been a good swim day. I decided not to swim Monday during the day just to rest.

Paul made it down at 8pm Monday night at the same time we heard that the solo aspirant next door decided not to swim that night. I didn't give it a thought - team Denison were going if the boat and Captain were willing. The guys were great - took full responsibility for the set up!

All the gear into Christer's rental car and we got to the Docks (10 minutes away) about 60 minutes early. The Captain was still game and two other boats were going (one relay and one solo aspirant). Relays will typically go in rougher conditions. The flags were "snapping" (force 4 winds) and the rest of the Captains and/or swimmers had decided to give it a miss - but I thought who can really tell what the weather will be in 2 hours in the channel.

All loaded up, then a calm few minutes as the boat moved around the breakwater and into the open sea - with what I thought were pretty big swells at the time. A few minutes to the west and we pulled into the lee of the breakwater - in total darkness: Shakespeare's Beach! I stripped down to my speedo with attached light stick, cap, ear plug and goggles with another attached light stick. Paul donned the plastic glove and applied a thick coat of grease under my arm and around the neck…and light coat on the rest. I stepped down to the water level platform on the back and slipped into the dark water. Not a hint of a chill - which was a great relief (I would guess 15 to 16 degrees C). A quick swim the beach - stepped on dry land, raised my arms and walked into the surf.

Nights swims can be scary or peaceful. Sometime both at the same time! I was very relaxed. Phosphorus exploded with every arm stroke and the boat was lit up like a Christmas tree on my right. After ten minutes I cleared the lee of the breakwater and hit the big waves coming 45 degrees into my left shoulder. I would have been in waves that large maybe 5 times in 2005 - so it took some adjustments not to catch the waves with every left stroke. The plan was for food and drink stops every 30 minutes and I was counting my strokes trying to stay calm and steady. I guessed the first break (torch in the water near my head to signal) within 2 strokes and closed the 7 meter (20 foot) cap to the side of the boat.

The boat was just over 10 meters (30 feet) long and the sight of it bobbing 2 meters (6 feet) up and down while tilting 30 degrees back an forth scared me to no end. The first bottle was heavily diluted mouthwash - to ease the swelling you get (tongue and throat after 10 plus hours in salt water). A quick sip, swirl and sip. The second was a 750 ml bottle half filled with water mixed with carbohydrate power. I had trained to roll over on my back with gentle kicking to drink. When I tried it, the waves kept crashing over my head - both from the wind on one side and the boat on the other. I managed to do a frightened version of a water polo treading water and got down two small sips and got away from the boat as fast as possible. I was supposed to drink the half bottle but it was the first stop and not really an issue. Chaz was nowhere to be seen and I suspected that he was being ill down below and the boat was really rocking.

Back out a safe distance and back to steady swimming until the second stop. This time I tried to get more of the liquid down, but the rope to the bottle kept going tight and I couldn't keep a stable position next to Christer with the bottle. Another two small sips and back out to safety. It was still only the second stop and not an issue with not drinking enough.

I did have a small thought at this point about the wind (and hence waves) being generally smaller at night and thought - this isn't good! But back to counting strokes and focus on being steady. The water still felt warm and the darkness was not an issue.

Third stop, fourth, fifth and sixth stops (every 30 minutes) - same again with the exception that now my attention was pulled to the various rust spots under the hull as the boat rocketed above my head each time.

At the seventh stop I did manage to get down one sachet of carbohydrate replacement "goo" which is about 400 calories. I was expecting to be greeted by a sun rise before this stop - but the sky now matched the sea a kind of dark grey. I yanked off the light stick on the back of my suit just to stop it bobbing up and down. While the sun brings warmth, it also just lifts your spirits. There was to be no sun on my day. I did make a few more mistakes at about this point: I looked ahead and to the left - nothing but angry seas. I also lost concentration for a moment and felt a bit sea sick myself - but I got back to stroke counting and it passed.

Eighth to twelfth stops (now in the water 6 hours) were much the same with Paul vanishing down below at about this point. Christer was a rock up on the desk and the conditions remained the same.

Thirteenth stop and I had reached French waters! At stop fourteen Christer tossed me a bottle of warm fluid mixed with the Captain's favourite brand of carbohydrate powder. I had told the crew not to do this unless they thought I was starting to tire. Again I could only get down a few sips.

Stop fifteen brought out the Captain with a question: "What was my middle name?" Now it took a while but I was very pleased to see him, hear him, understand the question, take in the fact that it was a pretty big test, actually remember it and lastly speak.

I concentrated pretty hard on swimming parallel to the boat and surface of the water (a first time I ever needed to think about that!). I stopped several times now to locate the boat - I had veered to the left and re-set my swim line.

At stop sixteen (8 hours in to the swim) Christer signalled if I wanted a cup of tea. I waived him off but he kept making the T sign with his hands. It then clicked that it was time to stop if I didn't want to get physically hooked out. I did manage to ask if the engine was off before I swam around to the back platform.

After swim

Christer helped my feet up the ladder and a small army caught my arms. The Captain sat my in a small hot water shower and I soaped off 90% of the grease. Several people helped me on with warm clothes, tossed some blankets over me and a few hours later I was able to walk off in Dover under my own power. My left arm hurt from catching the waves - something like 16,000 punches to a heavy bag!

We had a quiet afternoon back in the caravans and I dreaded telling Diarmuid the news of hypothermia - which I am sure he had by phone anyways. The other solo aspirant I started with was pulled out a few minutes before me with the same problem.

I didn't realise it at the time, but the conditions were the same as the Irish relayers faced - yet they had the sun.

I just didn't get enough liquid and carbohydrates. After 8 hours I ran out of fuel. My stroke rate was steady until 7 ½ hours and I never felt cold. The symptoms after 7 ½ were clear that I was done and hence Christer made the right decision. He later told me that he never expected this kind of responsibility and in hindsight it was a once off experience standing on deck deciding if I would live for another 30 minutes or to pull me.

I didn't train much at eating and drinking in the water - and all of it was in calm waters. In these conditions, I just didn't fuel up enough because being near the boat scared me so much. The angry seas were fine they don't land like a 10 meter boat falling 2 meters!

The others

Wednesday was dead calm for Dairmuid's swim. He reached France in 15 ½ hours. My other friend Ronan reached France on Friday in just under 13 hours with the first 11 hours of seas very calm. The period just after me was so damn good they called local swimmers scheduled later in the summer and ran the maximum number of trips at 25% success rate versus the normal 7% rate.

The weather was a killer - but I made some mistakes along the way.

My 6kg were lost after the swim and my left arm still hurts.

I swam a fast 1.5 mile race this Saturday and later made the decision.

The physical training has been done over the winter and while I need to "discover" feeding and drinking in poor seas - everything else is still ready.

Imelda is the third Cork person who was training for a solo swim. She did the relay so knows a lot now about the boats, conditions etc. She is scheduled as the first swimmer from 9-15 September - I have now signed up as the second swimmer on this period.

Unfinished business!