Another Channel
NINE months ago, when I commenced training in earnest for this swim I had in my mind that there would be some magic trick, moment of epiphany or other such miraculous event that would propel me through my training and get me across this notorious body of water.
I’m disappointed to say that there was no such event.
Instead, the training was a slow and sometimes torturous grind.
12*c still felt like one would imagine 12*c would feel…bloody cold. I’m not sure why I thought that these temperatures might begin to feel comfortable… because they don’t, I’ve just built up the resilience to know that I won’t become hypothermic if I just kept swimming.
I read a book before I left for the UK about the swimming career of a woman who was once the greatest open water swimmer in the world, Shelly Taylor-Smith, a line in that book resonated with me… “if you don’t give up, you will make it.” It’s a simple concept, yet fundamentally true.
There were a lot of unknowns on this swim, with only one member of Vladswim having swum it previously and only ~50 people in the world.
One thing that I knew for sure is that I would make it across, provided I didn’t give up. Easy-peasy.
The trouble is, there is so much that goes into that simple little phrase – If you don’t give up, you will make it. I especially knew how rogue one’s mind can go when in the middle of a channel, take my EC swim for example. LOST.MY.MARBLES.
It’s not so easy to think rationally when exceptionally cold, in the middle of a large body of water, and with people shouting at you incoherently from a boat.
Swims like these are won and lost within the space between one’s ears. My mind can be my most powerful ally, and it has also been my harshest critic and my downfall. The 300 km swum over the preceding 7 weeks was my insurance policy against covering the distance required.
I had little doubt that this swim was going to be the toughest swim I had ever attempted, not just because of the temperature, the enormous jellyfish or the distance, but it's what it all meant to me.
After completing the Triple Crown in August 2016, my desire to push myself and to find my limit was only strengthened.
I take so much inspiration from swimmers such as Sarah Thomas who holds the record for the longest unassisted open water swim in the world. Sarah, who in 2016 after completing an 128 km swim was not satisfied that she had reached her limit, decided to push the boundary and in 2017 swam 168 km up and back lake Champlain in the USA.
It took her 67 hours to complete the distance – that is 5 hours short of THREE.DAYS.STRAIGHT
During this time Sarah swam and swam and swam, she only stopped to tread water and take the food and drink that was passed to her along the way. She was kept awake by regular, small amounts of caffeine and encouragement from her crew.
This is a super human effort and from what I can see, she flies under the radar – no gimmicks, just swimming.
I’ve never met the woman, but I really like her.
Wee Donaghadee
I arrived in the small sea-side town of Donaghadee, Northern Ireland 5 days before my window opened. Michael and I were immediately welcomed with open arms. The staff at Pier 36 and the Chunky Dunkers are some of the friendliest people I have ever come across.
Needless to say, I was overwhelmingly apprehensive and getting in the cold water of Donaghadee harbor did nothing to help my level of anxiety.
My first swim was about 40 minutes. I jumped in and the water temperature took my breath away. During my training I had always walked in slowly and jumping in felt like an elephant had sat on my chest. With Charm and Michael watching me, I tried to pretend like it was nothing at all. Thumbs up, and off I went swimming. Nb it's very hard to swim whilst gasping for breath and pretending like everything is fine.
The first and second swim in the harbor elicited all of the typical cold related symptoms; tight chest, shortness of breath, face freeze, back of neck freeze, numb fingers and toes, and the after-drop shakes.
However, after the first couple of swims my reaction to the cold started to settle and before long I was spending up to 30 minutes treading water and not feeling that cold at all.
Chris Judge, Gordy Hamill and me - marinating
I have little doubt that this sustained and consistent exposure to the cold, together with Tara's advice to go from 45 minute to 35 minute feeds, were the two most important ingredients in successfully getting me across the Channel.
At 6:16 am on 5 September, after 10 days of waiting, one false start, and a lot of anxiety, it was go time, I was in the water looking for a rock to stand up on to signal the start of my crossing.
In the water with me that day was Marty Filipowski, Stephen Junk and Nora Toledano.
I knew this swim was going to be hard, one of my biggest concerns were the Lions Mane Jellyfish, and it took no time at all for my first encounter. It was still dark and I didn't see it coming, but I copped a fist full of tentacles to the face and mouth.
When the sun rose, I was able to see them coming, but they were impossible to avoid. Unlike normal jellyfish that have their tentacles hanging down, these mutant jellyfish were on their side and sometimes completely upside down. The below is an image from Google, but very accurately represents what I saw during the entire crossing - X 10,000.
Lions Mane Jellyfish
The good news is, the sting its-self is no worse than a bluebottle. So just imagine all of those bluebottle tentacles stinging you at the one time. It hurts, but it didn't hurt enough to break my determination, just a couple of swear words to let of steam were all that were required.
I approached this swim in two different ways, on the one hand, having already completed a number of long channel swims, I was acutely aware of how hard it was going to be. On the other hand, I also successfully avoided thinking about it. Maybe because every time I did, I felt a wave of anxiety come over me and got very hot and nervous.
For better or for worse, this strategy seemed to work. At the commencement of the swim, I didn't feel overwhelmed by the enormity of what was to come, like I did in the English Channel. I swam from feed to feed, and I have never been so disciplined with not stopping part way through the 35 minutes, or dragging out the feed stop to converse with my crew.
This swim was so unlike my experience across the English Channel, I felt in control the whole time, I retained my marbles and even though it was really hard and cold and the jellyfish were relentless, I kept the negative thoughts at bay by counting my strokes, singing the entire Les Miserables musical and Illy's Aus Music Medley.
I had an epiphany of sorts in the first third of the swim. I was looking up at Michael, Ruth, Olive and Padraig on the boat and they all looked so comfortable in their down jackets and beanies and all I wanted was to get out of the water, have a hot bath and crawl into bed and sleep forever. The feeling was very strong. Then somewhere from the depths a voice of reason came to me and I promised myself that I could have hot baths and endless sleeps for my whole life, if for the next 12 hours I commit to feeling uncomfortable and cold. It worked, from them on I was able to focus wholeheartedly on the task at hand.
At about the 8th hour I asked my crew if I could have a friend in the water, so the lovely Olive from Infinity Channel Swimming jumped in and swam with me for about 40 minutes, followed by Michael for the remainder of the hour.
The conditions at the beginning of the swim were beautiful
The wind eventually picked up and blew in an Easterly direction for about an hour, after that it appeared to swing North-Easterly, which created challenging chop and waves.
Despite this, I was still in remarkably good spirits, I took it all in my stride and was happy to oblige when I was asked to push as hard as I could.
Fortunately, I didn't ever doubt myself and my ability to make the swim when I was in the water. When I was 9 km from Scotland, could see land very clearly, I estimated I had 3 hours to go. By that stage I had lost track of time in the water, but I started to count down the number of feeds before I would be finished.
At my second last feed, Padraig came out of the cabin and told me that if I give it everything I have, and I mean everything, I would break though the current that was taking me south and land in front of the lighthouse.
"45 minutes" I asked, "45 minutes and then were're done?"
"Yes" was the response from Paddy, but only if it was the fastest 45 minutes I could manage.
From then on, I left it all in the channel.
Illy's Aus music medley was playing loudly in my head and I gave it everything I had.
35 minutes later, my last feed and I was within 1 km of the finish.
Prior to the swim, Michael and I had agreed that he would get in and swim the final few hundred meters with me and we would finish together, like we did for my English Channel swim and our Catalina Channel swim.
The preceding 6 months were hard on me, and hard on Michael too. I was not a great person to be around and a very inattentive wife to my new husband. I wanted Michael in the water with me, because his support throughout the training and the swim itself was invaluable. This was a challenge that I had taken on, but one we went through together.
I was also unsure what state I would be in in the final meters of the swim. Strong swimmers who had gone before me, tell of not remembering the final 2 hours, of being so hypothermic and delirious they had to be coached through putting their hand out to touch a rock that signaled the end of their swim.
Based on how I pulled up at the end of the English Channel, I was certain I would be lacking my mental faculties too. For an infinite number of reasons however, I wasn't, I was fine. Cold and sore, but fine. In the last 100 or so meters, I started to become aware of my surroundings, I could see the rocks and the weed below me, I could feel the sudden rise in water temperature, I could see the lush deep-green grass on top of the cliff and the grey moody sky, and I wanted to finish this swim alone. Just me. As an ordinary woman who believed in herself. I asked Michael to stay behind me. Or I may have yelled it. I'm sorry that I did, because after all his support and encouragement, he didn't deserve to be yelled at. I touched a rock in front of me, and looked back at the boat. Was that enough? I got closer and touched it again. Am I done? I could hear shouting, but no audible words. I was now right up against an outcropping of rocks and there was nothing I could do, a wave came though and washed me high and dry right on top of them.
Michael to the rescue
Ouch, but it was quiet funny. I looked to the boat, put my hands up and shrugged my shoulders. Maybe I would sit there for a moment or two and take in my surroundings. Nope. The next wave came through and swept me down the other side. OUCH I was cut and bleeding and trying to side stroke to the boat. "Ouch, fuck, it's really bad" I kept saying to Michael. On the boat, I was so grateful to have Nurse Ruth to help administer first aid with the comprehensive supplies carried by all Infinity Channel Swimming boats. In the end, all I wanted was to get my disgusting costume off and dry clothes on. Another major advantage of choosing Infinity as your escort boat is the speed at which you get back to Bangor marina. I was told that our little twin engine rib could do it in 40 minutes, so I asked Padraig to step on it. When I found out I had completed the swim in 10 hours 32 minutes I was speechless - gobsmacked, I couldn't believe how fast I had gotten across. I was hoping for a 12 hours swim, thinking that would be killing it, never in my dreams did I imagine I could have done it in 10.5. On the way back, I was elated to find out that Nora has gotten across in 10:26, and that Marty was only 2 km from the finish and was swimming really well. His finish time was 12:26. Unfortunately, a great pal, and incredible swimmer Stephen, had not managed to cross the channel on that occasion.
Post swim, back on land
Elated, tired, stung and cold, on the 5th September 2018 I became the First Australian Woman, the fastest Australian person, and swam the North Channel in the 8th fastest time ever.
Nora, myself and Marty signing the wall at Pier 36
There are so many people to thank.
My ever supportive, rugged and handsome husband, best friend and one-man comedy show, Michael Hanisch
Mum, Dad, Aviva, Avi, Nat & Ada for flying to Northern Ireland to be with me
Tara Diversi for your knowledge and expertise, I am so grateful
All the legends at SportsLab
Padraig and the team at Infinity Channel Swimming
Martin Strain and all the Lovely Chunky Dunkers for your hospitality, send off and welcome back
Kristy McIntyre, Georgia Hall, Michael Bullen and Niall O'Rourke for your hours and hours of paddle support
Vlad Mravec, Martin Vavrek & Jai Di Tommaso and the whole Vladswim family
Sarah Thomas for showing me exactly what women can do
Myself for my ability to persist in the face of adversity.
