T - 3 and counting

Only 3 weeks until our team braves the English Channel.

You might think that, because of all the dangers associated with Channel swimming, we will be accompanied by all manner of hi-tech state-of-the-art support vessels. You might think that there will be a plethora of lifeguards and medics watching closely, ready to leap into action at the merest hint of someone in trouble. And you might think that we’ll be able to rest on a comfortable bed after our relay legs. But no. You’d be wrong. We will be accompanied for the best part of two days by Reg and his fishing boat.

Now don’t get me wrong. Reg’s family has been escorting swimmers across the Channel for 40 years, and he has a reputation for escorting record breakers (like the fastest male swimmer, the fastest butterfly swimmer and the fastest backstroke swimmer – goodness knows why he’s escorting us). But, it’s a fishing boat (or a fishing ‘trawler’ as he describes it on his web site). We will have the luxury of a cabin below deck (where we can groan in private as the fishing boat does what fishing boats do in choppy water), a kettle, a microwave, and a ‘separate’ flushing toilet (which we won’t use because we’ll be emptying the contents of our stomachs over the sides of the fishing boat a zillion times during the swim). But it’s a fishing boat! And fishing boats smell of … fish.

Reg’s boat is called the Viking Princess. You’ll be able to track its progress on the Internet (Viking Princess). So you’ll be able to see where we are, how cold the sea is, how fast the wind is, how high the waves are, and how fast we’re swimming (ie how slow the boat is going).

The next time you see television adverts of glorious sea and river cruises, think of us in our little fishing boat, and please encourage and help us in our efforts to raise funds to kick-start a sports scholarship programme at Rosemead by …

Sponsoring us via justgiving: please sponsor us

T - 4 and counting

This is what's being washed up onto our shores!

Only 4 weeks until our team braves the English Channel.

On Monday I was in the chemist checking out sea-sickness tablets. I threw up 3 times during my qualifying swim on Saturday, and I reckon I’ll need some medication if the sea on Channel swim day is as rough and rolling as it was on Saturday. It was probably the 20mph cross-winds that did it. Well done to Debbie, Fiona, Lynne, and Orlaith who completed their qualifying swims too.

According to the Telegraph today, this is the ‘Year of the jelly’. Swarms of large, barrel jellyfish have been seen along our Southern shoreline and experts are warning us that thousands more are on the way. Brilliant. Deathly cold water, puke-inducing rolling waves, and now zillions of massive jellyfish. Will the dangers never end?

Well, at least we won’t have to wee on each other if we get stung. The latest NHS guidelines suggest that shaving foam is the thing to use, so I’ll be back to the chemist next week for their very best. Sea sickness tables and shaving foam for a man who obviously doesn’t shave. Goodness knows what they think of me in Brockwell pharmacy.

A 20kg jellyfish was spotted off the Cornwall coast recently. Jellyfish stings are inevitable, so please encourage and help us in our efforts to raise funds to kick-start a sports scholarship programme at Rosemead by …

Sponsoring us via justgiving: sponsor us

Horrible

Absolutely horrible. For me, this weekend's swim in Dover harbour was absolutely horrible - the worst swim I have ever done. Conditions were appalling. We saw the crash of waves breaking against the harbour walls as we drove into Dover, so we knew it was going to be choppy.

Orlaith and I were trying to get our 2-hour swim certificates. We cannot swim the Channel without them. But, after an hour and half in the water, I was well and truly sea-sick, and on the verge of giving up. Throwing up three times helped, but I really wasn't enjoying it. It was only the thought of having to come back and try again that kept me going. I spent the last half an hour groaning through my breath as I desperately tried to stop going up and down and up and down.

Orlaith was fine. Okay, she was cold, but I think she's probably a secret white-knuckle roller-coaster rider because she was completely unaffected by the massively undulating sea. We did do it though, and I literally staggered out of the sea onto the pebbly beach. I'm writing this seven hours later, and my stomach is still fragile and I my head still aches. Going to Carter's Steam Fair in Belair Park this afternoon with my thrill-seeking daughter hasn't helped.

Swim Certificates Obtained - yeah!

Good luck to Debbie, Fiona and Lynne who are trying to get their certificates tomorrow. At least it's forecast to be calmer (although not warmer!).

T-5 and counting

Just 5 weeks until our team braves the English Channel.

Training in Dover Harbour is tightly controlled. It’s dangerous, so it needs to be. There are officials who brand us with indelible markers, officials who tick us off as we go in and out of the sea (so they know when one of us has drowned), and officials who tell us what’s dangerous, what’s really dangerous, and what’s really, really dangerous.

In amongst all these officials is a guy with a tub of goose fat. Yes, goose fat. A guy who offers to lather us up before we hit the chilly and uninviting harbour water. I’ve never quite worked out if he is really one of the officials, or just  someone who’s walked off the street and fancies lathering up the ladies (and the gents).

Channel Swimming Association rules state that goose fat is the only thing we can use to combat the cold. I’m not sure if it’s the guy or the disgusting contents of his tub that’s put us off lathering up so far, but to date we’ve gone into the water sans fat.

My point though, is that according to Channel Swimming Association rules, our lady swimmers are only allowed to wear sleeveless swimsuits that don’t extend below the crotch (ie don’t have legs), and our gentlemen swimmers (ie me) are only allowed to wear skimpy speedos. Now I’m all for equality, but I think there’s a lot more coverage (and warmth) in a swimsuit than in a pair of speedos. And, speedos is not a good look for me.

We’re aiming to do our 2-hour qualifying swim in Dover Harbour this Saturday. Whatever happens, we’re all going to be cold, very cold, and I’m going to look ridiculous.

So don’t snigger the next time you see me, and please encourage and help us in our efforts to raise funds to kick-start a sports scholarship programme at Rosemead by …

Sponsoring us via justgiving: sponsor us

T-6 and counting

6 weeks until our team braves the English Channel.

I’ve just taken delivery of 20 military-standard light sticks – 10 yellow and 10 orange. It’s a sobering reminder that some of our swimming will be at night. On the plus side, it does mean we’re unlikely to see the scary things in the water, and no-one will see my embarrassingly inefficient swim stroke. However, swimming in the Channel is going to be pretty lonely, and swimming at night is probably akin to being in an isolation tank with all the sensory deprivation effects that brings.

None of us. Absolutely none of us is looking forward to swimming in the dark.

So the next time you’re out and about at night, think of us. Think of the huge and scary challenge we’ve taken on and help us in our efforts to raise funds to kick-start a sports scholarship programme at Rosemead by …

either
Coming along to our fundraising quiz night on Friday 5 June: buy a ticket
or
Simply sponsoring us via justgiving: sponsor us

Buoyancy Aid

At 6.30am, I was the first into the Lido this morning. Probably because it was very windy, and it was raining.

Loads of wimpy wetsuit people joined me later. It was a luxurious 15.7 degrees. Surely no need for a wetsuit!

There's nothing quite like slipping gently into an undisturbed swimming pool. Picture that empty indoor pool before opening time or after closing time, and that silky-smooth, cut-with-a-knife, glimmering water, and don't you just want to slip in?

Actually, there is something better - hobbling down a steep pebbly beach into the cold sea. Seriously! Okay, the getting in bit is challenging, but once you're there, the swimming is amazing. What I like most, is the saltiness. The water is so buoyant. Treading water (which I don't do, honestly), is so easy. Effortless. When I'm swimming, my body practically floats on top of the water, not in it. It's like lying on a surf board and paddling with my arms. I can just picture Surf's Up's Big Z telling me "long and slow ...".

And last Saturday, when I was swimming with Orlaith in Dover Harbour, I was swimming long and slow with my super-saltiness buoyancy aid, and really enjoying it. We swam for an hour in 11.7 degrees. Check out the photo. Look at how delighted Orlaith and I are. Okay, Orlaith couldn't stop shaking when she drank her post-swim tea and offered me a biscuit (broken with the shakes), but it was great milestone. We'll be swimming hourly shifts across the Channel, and on Saturday we completed our first practice (almost like the real thing) shift. No wonder we're smiling!