It's Go Time
A comprehensive account of my swim across the English Channel, or as comprehensive as I can manage. Told from the perspective of the swimmer; there are likely to be biasses and certain confusion of chronology.
3am Breakfast in bed
The morning started out well. I was so calm I managed to speak with St George and ask them to reverse the cancelation of my credit card, the cancelation was on suspicion of fraud as the previous day Mike and I had traipsed around Dover and Folkestone going from ATM to ATM withdrawing large amounts of cash...I tried to explain Andy's policy of "No cashie - no splashie" The man on the line was not amused.
Moments before we left Varne Ridge for Dover marina I went to wish Justin good luck, unfortunately Justin was still asleep and this was a problem as he was due to leave 15 minutes after me.
Dover marina was cold and dark, but I was happy and excited. Loretta Cox was there to see me off, Loretta would also be there that afternoon when I arrived back at the marina, slightly less energetic and excited. I was really blown away by her kindness, a woman I had never actually met in person before, but a year earlier in the wee hours of the morning I had been speaking to her for hours and hours while Justin was in the water for his second attempt.
I joked around with Andy and Mick my observer, mimicking the way they were so casually propped up against the side of the boat waiting for us.
Things got underway, I had WWRD on one arm and Ada and Pickles on the other. Writing them seemed a formality at the time as I had no idea just how much I would need their company.
I greased, gave the family signal, gave Mike and Charm a kiss and jumped in.
I was calm, no real nerves, no sense of impending doom and no thoughts of what was to come. I climbed up the pebbles at Samphire Hoe and tried to commit what I saw to memory.
4:38am Total darkness beside the boat's spotlight on me, the water was calm -it was beautiful, one of the most beautiful scenes I'v ever seen. "Ok Rachael this is it, the English Channel" I said out loud to myself.
As I started to stroke in the glassy opaque water I felt fantastic. My stroke rate was high, it felt like 63-65. Usually I'm mid-high 50's
I can't remember exactly when things started to turn, but it wasn't long before the glass turned to chop and I became fearful of swimming outside the lights of the boat. Problematically something was wrong with my left arm's stroke, whenever I tried to breathe on that side I would veer dramatically to the left and leave the safety of the spotlight and the field of vision within the wheelhouse.
Andy came out with cups of tea for the crew, I was close to the boat and he cheers'd me, I gave him the bird.
The sun rose without much ceremony, I flipped on to my back to backstroke and have a look at the huge tankers sailing past, little did I know of the wardrobe malfunction that was occurring, until I saw Mike and Charm yelling at me to pull up my costume! Oh well, hopefully it gave the crew a bit of entertainment. I attempted to keep myself decent for a little while, but eventually I stopped caring.
Mike got in and swam with me for a bit, but by this time I started to worry that my stroke rate was too high for the longevity I needed. I started to feel hypoglycaemic and lacked energy, the feeds weren't giving me a boost, it felt like I was fighting a losing battle; trying to replace what I was loosing but falling further and further behind.
I knew when I was in the first shipping lane and I knew when I was in the separation zone and I knew I was still swimming well. The problem came when I thought I was past the second shipping lane and in French inshore waters: the water had become dirtier and choppier, and James came out of the wheel house and started fiddling with the tender. "I'm there!" I thought to myself, "hell yeah, I'm going to kill it!" I reckoned I had about half an hour to swim and would do a time close to 10 hours.
Of course I hadn't dared to look at either coast, I kept my eyes firmly on the boat when I fed.
I was so wrong.
At that point I had a feeling I was about 10 hours in, and as it happens I was correct. It was also at that point that I started to loose my mind. I started to question what my crew was doing...
Were they even keeping time? What the eff were they doing up there? It's time for a feed I know it is! My feeds are too dilute, they are effing with my feeds, why aren't they putting the right amounts of maltodextrin in it, too much water, "FUUUUUUUUCK" I yelled underwater. My head was playing games with me.
This was the first of many stops I made, I knew it was jeopardising my swim but at the time I didn't care. I was angry and hungry and I didn't understand why I wasn't getting anywhere. I wanted out. The swim was tormenting me, "where the eff am I?" I shouted "this is so effed up" I kept yelling.
Michael joined me in the water again and I was crying so much I had to constantly empty my goggles of the tears, I wanted to disqualify myself by touching him. I kept saying I couldn't do it any more, I had given up. Even now, 6 weeks later I can still feelthe torture I was going through. I get a lump in my throat and my anxiety spikes. It was awful.
I was so angry at my crew for not allowing me to get out, I had no insight what so ever. They kept telling me that land was "just there" pointing in some direction, I couldn't see shit. They swell was high and it was choppy as fuck. Land was no where to be seen. It was agony.
Around this point I started to give up on myself, I swam away from the boat a few times and I ignored the crew yelling at me to come back. I didn't care, the swell and chop made it hard to swim in any one definite direction.
When Mike jumped in he swam on my left to keep me close to the boat. This is one of the only photos you will see of Mike breathing to his right.
I didn't think I was going to make it. It had been hours, I tried desperately to get out of my head and think of what was written on my arm, to sing a song from Les Miserables, to recite the script of Stand By Me or to think of the 'take a photo day' in Manly. Nothing was working, I was too distressed. I could feel the tide had turned, I could feel the strength of the water movement. I was battling with myself not to stop and scream, so I started screaming underwater- this must have been where I swallowed all the seaweed.
On one of my stops, Andy came out of the wheel house and yelled "Rachael, stop crying you are doing better than you think. Put your goggles on and F***ING SWIM"
I kept trying to look forward to see where I was, but I couldn't see anything. Finally I yelled for Michael to get back in the water. The plan had been for him to swim the last hour with me, but I needed him then. There wasn't going to be a later unless he got in immediately. At this point pure anger was the only thing keeping me going. I was kicking and swinging my arms over much faster than what I had trained for.
Daniel had told me that it wasn't as hard as he had thought it was going to be, that I would be fine. God Daniel, you bastard...this is hard! I fully understood why there is such a high failure rate. Had I had anyone else on my crew I would not be writing this as a successful channel swimmer. Mike and Charm could see my agony, but they knew it was in my head and that I had the ability to make it.
I started counting my strokes in an attempt to drown out the voices in my head telling me I couldn't do it. By the time I got to 9 lots of 100 strokes I got the shits and I wasn't any closer to France. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh I screamed in frustration during one of my breaths.
I thought of something Stuart had told me about his doubles, there comes a point when he is so delirious all he can do it sing "99 bottles of beer on the wall"
I started to count to 10, over and over and over. It was something my dad had told me he had done when he descended Mt Kilimanjaro as a teenager.
I mentioned previously I had told Michael, to get in the water, but he was stalling. He had taken his clothes off, but now his shorts were back on. He was fiddling with his goggles, cleaning them about 27 times, taking sips of water, putting his cap on and taking it off, going in and out of the wheel house and talking with Mick, Andy and Charm.
"MICHAEL- NOW!" I shouted, I knew he was stalling on purpose.
He finally jumped in at the last feed, I threw my bottle in his direction hoping it would hit him.
I still didn't think I was going to make it. I knew I had wasted huge amounts of time spitting the dummy, I had jeopardised my own swim. "NO!" I thought to myself, I wanted to make it but had I wasted too much time? I kept repeating to myself "They wouldn't have let Mike swim if I wasn't going to make it" " 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10"
I caught a glimpse of land, fuck it was still really far away "I just want this to be over". Mike had me swimming really fast, I had a 4-6 beat kick going on and my arms were stroking furiously.The first thing I noticed was the change in water quality, it became very silty. I could smell something, a smell that reminded me of when I was young and had pet rabbits. There was a family walking along the beach to my right in the distance. I think I can see some kind of a hut thing. "it's not over till its over". I was crying and hyperventilating.
5:39pm I kept stroking until I was in knee deep water and my arms were hitting the bottom, I got to my feet and staggered unsteadily a short distance up the beach.
I fell to my knees, then lay on my back and started sobbing (I also made a really big wee)
Michael knelt beside me, "Where am I?" "Do I have to keep swimming?" "Is it over?" I asked him. I was beside myself, I didn't have a proper grasp on what was going on or where I was- in that moment all I could do was cry. After a short period of time I sat up, took my cap off and asked him if the swim had taken 16 hours. It felt like 16 hours.
Cross legged on a beach in France, I am crying and piling pebbles indiscriminately into my cap.
Andy kept blowing the boat's horn, there was no tender to take us back to the boat. I handed my cap full of pebbles to Michael and we made our way very slowly back, all I could manage was a breastroke/backstroke type stroke, I was shattered and sore. I climbed up the ladder and the first thing I did was apologise to the whole crew for swearing at them. I was in high spirits, I made a remark to Andy that I wasn't going to poo my pants, a few days before we had been joking about some of his past channel swimmers defecating post swim.
Andy was keen to get going quickly as the swell was rising by the minute and it was approaching darkness. There is no luxury about swimming the channel, the boat ride back was rough. I was sat between Charm and Michael who bore the brunt of the swell crashing over the boat. I soon started to feel sick, I wasn't so sure I could keep my promise to Andy.I was handed a bucket and I vomited the entire way back. At first it was a relief as it was mostly sea water and some big chunks of seaweed. I asked Charm to take a photo before chucking it out. You're welcome.
I caught a glimpse of a big wave just before it crashed over the boat and soaked Michael, Andy remarked that the conditions Karlie had swum in were double what that was. That girl has guts. I didn't look up for the rest of the trip, I continued to stare at the bottom of my bucked and heaved stomach acid. In the calm of Dover marina I was rocking like we were still out at sea. My family had all come down to cheer me in, expecting me to be a little bit excited, maybe give them a wave, or the odd 'whoo' This is what greeted them...
I have so many people to thank...Where would I be with out the Vladswim team; Vlad, Charm, Martin and Vicki.
Michael; who forfeited a European adventure to support me and ended up spending all his time away in thrilling Dover.
Matt McCutcheon from SportsLab; Physio extraordinaire and all round good guy - What a legend
Andy King, James King and Mick Randall on the mighty Louise Jane. Louise I don't know who you are but thank you too.
My family: Mum and Dad, Jess and Sam, Nat and Ronnie, Aviva and Avi, Ada and Isaac
Fellow channel swimmers and training partners, Tara Diversi and my Vladswim friends.
Dave and Judy Redelman
Finally...Thank you to myself. I did the training, I did the research and in the end I stroked my way from England to France.
