“I want to call myself an English Channel Swimmer,
and put pebbles in
my trunks”
Patrick Thomas – Dover (UK) to
Wissant (France)– 8 September 2012
Patrick and Vladimir on their way to the UK (1 September
2012)
Two days after my swim I was chatting to a good friend Todd on the
phone and he asked me what the view was like … of both France and the UK; while swimming the Channel.
Lots of thoughts were mulling through my mind at this stage … especially as my
success was only really sinking in at this stage.
It basically dawned on me that we don’t get a chance to “enjoy” the
swim. We don’t look at the views, nor do we take time to actually appreciate
what we are doing out there. Having prepared for nearly two years to do this;
the last thing we want to do at this stage is fail … for whatever reason. We
are more focused on succeeding at all costs, and not at all about being fortunate
enough to be here in the first place.
The swim itself in non-stop … one arm after the other. Literally. We do
not take the time to appreciate the ocean, views, sunrise or immenseness of our
task – which is a pity. The reality is
that we don’t have the chance to do that. We have to keep swimming, non-stop … besides real brief feed stops
every half hour or so. Any length of time spent dawdling about results in you
getting pulled of track by the currents … and subsequent extra swimming and
work to do. There is no luxury of walking during a marathon, or coasting down a
hill during a tough cycle.
Basically you keep swimming at about 80% intensity for well over ten
hours …
The Days Before
The last few weeks before the swim are basically an ever increasing
focus on planning, organising, stressing and getting absorbed in to a vortex of
“success-at-all-cost” mentality. After having re-packed numerous times and
changed some basic swim-feeding tools I had my bags ready and was off to London. London offered me a few days of relaxation
and time-off, as there was nothing I could really prepare or focus upon at that
stage.
… except the weather; obviously. At this stage we tend to check the
weather over, and over again … trying to see what is happening during our
booked “window period”.
My “window was basically from Friday 7 September through till Friday 14
September. I had a number Two Slot during this period – meaning I got second
choice of accepting or declining a given day proposed by the skipper. The
choice to swim would have been dependent upon the weather forecast, seas
conditions, my health, etc.
I met up with my good friend Myles (also from Cape
Town, and down for the same window period as myself) in Dover on the Tuesday
before our window opened. Our fears of the water being too cold were soon put
to rest … our first swim in the Dover Harbour settled this … 17 degree water
simply felt awesome. The water was rather salty, but really pleasant all round.
Patrick and Myles, Dover Harbour
(4 September 2012)
Varne Ridge Caravan
Park – where I was booked in – was simply amazing. I had booked a two
bedroom caravan, with kitchen and bathroom, for my stay in Dover. A very good family friend, Janeen,
joined me for the trip – especially to have someone familiar on the support
boat for motivational, emotional and level headed support. Mingling with fellow
swimmers is superb, seeing their successes is contagious and Dave and Evelyn
(the hosts) are simply superb people. There are also ample left over supplies
and equipment, from previous swimmers, that we could borrow and utilise for our
swim.
The next few days were a whirlwind of stress, prepping and finalisation
of events. As it turned out the beginning of our window period was unbelievably
superb with respect to weather – changing daily, but still generally great. I
have known people who came to Dover and never got to swim at all due to poor
weather; others that basically told their skipper on the last day … “I will go
out even in poor conditions” …not wanting to go home without at least having
attempted the swim.
As it turned out for me, my number one slot – with my skipper, in my
“window” – decided to swim on the first day of our window. He was doing a
specific triathlon from London to Paris, and wanted to go
immediately. This suited me just fine; as Saturday/day two of the window was
way better than the first day. As luck would have it Myles made the call to
rather swim on the Saturday too … so we both got to swim our successful swims
on the same day … 8 September 2012.
The Night Before
I was down to start my swim at 03h00 on 8 September (Saturday). Myles
started with his skipper at 23h30 on the Friday evening already. Each skipper
has their own way of doing these things. Tides, currents, swimmers’ abilities,
etc all contribute to their decisions.
My two further support crews arrived in Dover on Friday evening about
19h00 – just in time for dinner and a slight repack (for the umpteenth time)
and sorting of my equipment during dinner time. Dave had come all the way from the
Birmingham
area; a good 4.5 hour drive. Paul had commuted a good 90 minutes to Dover.
Some last minute changes were recommended, and a few very valuable ones
implemented. Paul and Dave have both successfully completed the Channel
numerous times and have supported other swimmers successfully. Paul was the
“driver”, more focused and specific in activities and in what was expected at
any stage. Dave was more chilled and supported us with the little touches … he
brought a whistle and a Father Christmas beard and hat to vary the support and
encouragement that was offered to me … variation is vital with the monotony of
such a long event. Janeen was the personal support – she had the connections to
all the people writing in support messages, she prepared the food and drinks
and shouted all those messages from the supporters back home.
Janeen, Paul and Dave
Paul and Dave were both rather shocked and surprised at what I was
planning to eat. A wide variety, and copious amounts, of food and drinks. My
intensions were to have a large amount and simply eat what I wanted at each
stop … rather too much and choice in the event of me disliking anything on the
day. As it turns out this was a great idea – I have trained endlessly with
certain energy bars … but on the day I simply had no interest to consume these
at all.
My equipment for the swim (7 September
2012)
With equipment packed and sorted – one final time – we all headed off
to sleep about 21h00. This theoretically left us with some decent sleep time
till 01h15 … but for some reason sleep was not very forthcoming at that stage.
Besides some strong chainsaw noises emanating from some sleeping individuals;
my state of anxiety and nervousness was at a previously unfounded level … I can
honestly say that I have never felt so nervous or scared for anything before. After
the swim I spoke to several people, and they seemed quite surprised that I was nervous
as they thought I was extremely chilled and relaxed in the days leading up to
the swim.
The Early Hours of the
Morning
In the morning I basically acted purely on auto-pilot. It was kinda
weird … totally numb with nervousness, the unknown. Suddenly the day we had
worked towards for so long was there. It sounds so clichéd, but that is exactly
what it was. Previously it had always been that day, one day, in the future …
that day was now …Eish.
Dave and Paul were great as they knew where to go, what to do and just
lead Janeen and myself down to our boat with all our stuff. We met three other
boats/skippers down there at that time of the night. One lady was attempting a
triple crossing (eventually managed two-and-a-bit). Brian, who was supporting
Muna (I had met Brian several times on the beach). And one other person who
went out too; on the boat Suva.
All-in-all there were a total of nine skippers out there with their swimmers on
that day. The conditions were simply perfect for everyone.
We basically got down to the harbour, parked the cars and headed for
the boat. Soon after arrival we loaded our stuff onto Anastasia (our large and
comfortable boat; about 32 feet long and can take up to 14 persons). I never
actually got to go downstairs – I waited up top as we got going and ended up
sleeping on top after I finished.
Anastasia (early in the
morning, 8 September 2012)
Before we left the skipper requested his final payment … the final
payment of a large sum of money… but which has been worth every penny for this
trip and experience.
We were soon pulling out of the harbour at about 03h00. We had a 10
minute cruise out of the harbour and round to Shakespeare Beach;,
from where I would start. Soon after heading off it was time to strip down to
my Speedo briefs, goggles and cap … and then stand with arms up and legs apart,
while I got coated with sun tan lotion and ample Vaseline against chafe. One
doesn’t utilise the fat or lard anymore. Lanolin is also not necessary. A
suitable application of Vaseline is sufficient to prevent any chafe – under
arms, between thighs, neck and shoulders. I also had a light stick fastened to
the back of my Speedo briefs and a flashing light on the back of my swim pack …
after all they should try keep me in sight in this pitch black water and night.
Applying the Vaseline and sunscreen
The Crossing
Its time to go now; you must leave … leave this comfortable space,
warmth, camaraderie, support and love.
I felt a bit like a young lion or elephant that has been sent forth
into the wild … forced to leave his herd and find a new life out in the wilderness.
At 03h15 it is kind of nippy out, and definitely quite dark. The boat had
offered visual and mental stimulation. People and warmth. Light. A buzz of
activity… and great support …
… and now I was expected to jump into this cold water … and swim away
in to the unknown, darkness and bob along, alone, for the next twelve to
sixteen hours … at that stage, with the anxiety, excitement and nerves it was a
sudden lonely feeling.
Basically I swam the 40m to shore – onto Shakespeare Beach
– stood up, looked at the boat, raised my arms to signal my start… and quickly
started to swim. Swim. Swim … and swim some more.
I do wish I would have waited another few seconds to absorb the reality
and moment of it all … but at that stage I was “on a mission” … succeed at all
costs … now!
There really isn’t that much to say to describe the swim itself … it
was really just a routine of placing one hand after the other into the water in
front of myself … over and over again. Considering my 14 hours and average
stroke rate of around 60 strokes a minute … that gives me a good 50 000
strokes I must have completed on that day. The 34km are equal to 1360 lengths
of your local 25m swimming pool; and the total displacement I covered - taking
into account my lateral deviation for currents and tides – would be equal to a
marathon.
13h56 of non-stop swimming.
I soon got into a rhythm. I was actually surprised how soon I was
comfortable, relaxed and happy to be out there. The anxiety, nerves and
excitement dissipated; and I basically took my time to settle in next to the
boat (after originally deviating and drifting away a couple of times). I was
well lit up from the boat. There were numerous lights on the boat and I was
basically quite content swimming along, beside the boat. This comfort made me
all the more happy as I had heard that normally the first and last hours are
the worst. I also know numerous swimmers who found it took them two to three
hours to settle in and get a rhythm or a degree of enjoyment in their day.
I had opted for 45 minute feeds for the first three hours and then 30
minute feeds following on from there. A feed basically entails the crew
notifying me, a few minutes before feed time, that I need to get closer to the
boat (I utilised a large Smurf soft toy, that the crew hung over the side of
the boat). Then having a drink bottle and plastic feed box thrown out for me – to
eat a little morsel of energy food and take a good glug of drink…. At all times
keeping these feed times to an absolute minimum … about 30 seconds max.
Feed time
In retrospect I recon I should have fed every 30 minutes from the
start. At two hours (roughly) I was real hungry, and getting a little chilly.
By 3 hours I was not happy … I presume fuelled by a lack of sufficient
feed/energy and coupled with the dropping temperatures during sunrise.
At my 3h30 feed Janeen recorded (on my feed sheet) that the crew was a
bit stressed, as I had not talked at that feed stop at all. I have a tendency
to always say something – mostly some dry, humorous comment or at least a
thanks. At 3h30 I simply showed a thumb down sign and carried on swimming. I
was not happy at all. I was cold,
hungry, mildly nauseas. And mentally not focused at all… just not happy. I am
sure this lasted a good hour to 90 minutes. And I had some major doubts as to
how I would ever complete this task. When reflecting back on the whole swim,
this was definitely the lowest point during the whole day out.
Over these 90 minutes the crew showed their worth … they started
encouraging me more. They apparently upped the concentration of my carbohydrate
drink (which is not encouraged long term, but good for a brief dose of carbs
and energy). They got out a whistle, shouted support and wrote more frequent
words of encouragement on the whiteboard. Luckily it was also the time when
many normal people were waking up and starting to forward through their first
support messages … it is unbelievable what a difference this can make.
Somewhere in the English Channel
– 8 September 2012
At four hours I took my first scheduled four-hourly Ibuprofen tablet …
basically to reduce discomfort and tension in tired muscles. These tablets kick
in relatively quickly and I feltl a noticeable ease in the shoulders and arms.
With all the support, adapted feeding, encouragement, mentally digging
deep and going through my continuous mantra … “one arm after the next” … I came
through this spot of bother quite chirpy and happy … I am sure the warming sun
and light also had a positive effect.
Everybody asks what one thinks of while swimming. To be honest most of
my thoughts revolve around my stroke rate, technique, efficiency and just
keeping up a good tempo. The messages on the whiteboard, as well as the greetings
and support called out to me, definitely helped … but I still find myself
always drifting back to make sure my swim technique is alright. I have always
noticed that my pace slows down considerably when I let my mind wonder
elsewhere.
I had my long-ish list of key motivational names or phrases written
down for my support crew. They were instructed to write a new one down every
thirty minutes, and hold it up briefly for me to see. Out of this longer list I
found two or three that really helped
me through the swim. One of the dominant ones was wanting to have the
congratulatory banner displayed across the window of my caravan, back at the
campsite. All successful swimmers have this banner awaiting them on their
return. Another was being able to walk into the Cape Long Distance Swimming
awards evening (two weeks after my swim) with this accomplishment under my
belt. There were several peoples’ names that come to mind as well. But in the
end the strongest driver for me to carry on and complete the crossing was my
own desire … by far the strongest driver on the day. I have done numerous
adventures or sports events … but somehow I really wanted to accomplish
something really difficult … and the
longer I swam, and the tougher it got … the more I wanted to complete it …
The desire for this moment is what motivated me the
most
It is weird how little things help keep your spirits up or let you
question things. Hearing that Trent
had completed his swim and broken the world record was great. I had met him and
chatted to him a bit … he is a great Aussie youngster; and his record was a
really positive thing. I do wish they would have told me when Myles finished
his swim … it would have been a great extra little motivation for myself.
At times there was no one visible on board (which is naughty, naughty,
naughty) … and it is weird how lonely it makes one feel out there … even if
just for a minute or two, or a mere ten meters away. There was some nice music
to be heard from the boat (although I do not remember what it was).
One doesn’t really pick up any stress from on board … not that there
was any need for them to stress … but one did get a sense that at times they
had discussed my speed or swim style, etc and suddenly came to the side to
offer extra encouragement or motivate me to increase my stroke rate. I didn’t
realise the extra concentration of drinks, and I wasn’t at all concerned when
they substituted one drink for another … that was their call … they had the
knowledge … I was just putting one arm in front of the next.
There were three moments that affected me to a degree … at one stage
around 7 hours (at that stage I really had NO
idea how far along we were) one of my supporters shouted to me that we should
be able to hit the “Cap” (the ideal landing spot, but quite difficult to get
right) after 11h30. This motivated me tremendously and I upped the pace
noticeably. It cheered me up, energised me and made me push real hard. The only
problem was that I still had about four and half hours to go … which I did not
realise at that stage. After powering along quite strongly – and feeling real
good – I started to put things together … especially considering that I had
just had my second Ibuprofen. The penny suddenly dropped and I realised that
this 11h30 was a long term forecast … and I was killing myself with my pace.
Even though one can’t slow down completely to a walk or rest a while by
sitting down … one can slow down and recover a bit by going a slower, steady
pace. Once I had digested this confusion and realised that I was still going to
be out here for a while I relaxed and just kept plodding along and tried to
discard these hopes and desires of landing spots or great times.
The next “issue must have been around 10 hours … I was suddenly really cold … although I still felt quite
strong. I was just real cold. I mentioned it at the next feed stop and the team
immediately sprang into action again … they adapted the drink once again with
an increased carbohydrate concentration and started dancing and shouting to
encourage an increase in my stroke rate. I had been (comfortable, and strongly)
sitting at a 50 to 52 strokes per minute stroke rate … but now had to work a
bit faster and harder to build up some warmth in my body. The conditions had
been good enough to get a good slow, strong stroke rate and glide nicely
through the water. But the slower arm turn-over did allow for my body to chill
much more than I wanted.
Basically for the rest of the trip – a good four hours – I literally
just pumped my arms and kept digging deep. They must have been some of the most
focused four hours I have ever pulled through. Being tired, working hard and
just plodding along. I was still a bit confused about my goal of reaching the
“Cap” in 11h30 … especially because no other timeframes were shared with me.
The only information I had requested was updates on which shipping lane I was
in or when we crossed the “border” in the middle.
Towards the end … still not seeing any land from the water … you start
getting a little frustrated. My third little “issue” was seeing the boat Suva ahead of me; one of
the other skippers /swimmers that I was catching up to. There was some
communication with me regarding pushing real hard to reach the “Cap”. I am sure
I upped the pace and effort big time at this stage … but looking at some of the
footage after the swim … efficiency is not exactly superb after so many hours
of swimming. The weird thing was that they kept saying I was catching up to
them … and doing real well … but Suva
was drifting far off to the left and definitely “getting away”. It took me a
while to realise that I was doing
well. I was still quite strong and heading for the “Cap” (towards the
right/South) while the swimmer off Suva
had missed it, slowed down significantly … and was therefore drifting
North/away to the left of me. The whole bit was at that stage a little
confusing … but in hindsight makes perfect sense.
Unfortunately the turning of the tide, as well as my depleting
strength, resulted in us just missing the “Cap”. The problem is that the land
is set further back on both sides of the “Cap”. The changing tide, coupled with
extra distance to the land, results in an extra two hours of swimming to reach
land … if you do miss the “Cap”.
When I realised the enthusiasm and focus for this elusive “Cap” had
subsided on the boat, I knew I just had to dig deep and carry on … “One arm
after the next” … over and over again ... for a few extra hours …
At this stage I had some distant glimpses of land … land masses and
cliffs you could actually make out … but geeez … one just didn’t seem to get
any closer. The water had become extremely calm and flat … absolutely divine to
swim in. and time just dragged on … and on … and on … that “terrible last hour”
was ahead of me.
At the one and a half mile mark the crew started getting ready and
excited for the completion. In the back of my head I knew I had this in the bag
… but I still had endless doubts coming through my mind. Many people had
stopped with total exhaustion with less than two miles to go. What if I cramped
badly … right now? Sudden weather changes could surely scupper this attempt?
And then I kept thinking of the unfortunate incidence earlier this year where a
strong Irish swimmer died of a heart attach a mere mile and a half from the end
… at this stage your mind plays many a stupid tricks on you.
As I saw Paul and Dave get ready to swim with me onto shore, I totally
relaxed mentally. I gave it a bit more effort physically. Another crew member
was already on a little kayak to drag me back to the boat after the swim. A yacht
had come cruising past me The sun was out, it was calm, flat and beautiful. The
coastal village
of Wissant was growing as
I got nearer and I could clearly see people on the shore … this had been the
moment I had dreamt of so many times. Even writing this paragraph now, I am tingling with goose bumps … it
is a moment I want to remember for ever.
I was soon approaching the shore quickly. Numerous people on the beach
had stopped to look up at us. And Paul and Dave were close behind me, swimming
to the beach with me. At one stage I looked back and it was as if Paul was
about to jump onto me … kinda confusing … with a huge grin and all. I suddenly
noticed this illusion was created by him already standing up, walking in the
shallow water and looming over me … that thought suddenly signalled the end:
“hey Patty, you can walk from here!”
I stood up and walked. A little wobble to gain my balance … thank
goodness this was a sand beach I landed on … it makes the ascent onto the beach
much more graceful. All videos I had watched up to now had been of people
finishing the Channel on stony beaches where walking out of the water is not
very comfortable at all.
As I stepped out the water I raised my arms … to signal that I was on
dry land. It was amazing … but again I regret I didn’t relish in that moment
just a little longer. There were numerous people on the beach … funnily enough they
actually avoided me; and rather approached Paul and Dave to find out if I had really
swum across the Channel.
It was too brief a moment to encapsulate all the feelings of the last
two years; and the 14 hours I had just endured … but awesome never the less.
Thanks to Dave for remembering to pick up some pebbles … important to accompany
the ones I picked up in Dover
a few days earlier. These I placed … as is expected by Channel Swimmers … into
my Speedo trunks to take back to the other side (well, at least to the boat).
A nice little touch was a lady who had her iPhone with her on the
beach. She captured my arrival and a nice photo of me with Paul, Dave … and
Vladimir (my little smurf, who has
travelled with me on numerous adventures … including to the top of Kilimanjaro,
to Perth and
strapped to my bicycle for the Cape Epic MTB race). By the time we got back to
the boat the lady had already emailed the photos to Paul’s phone (he gave her
the email on the beach) … which was a nice little touch.
Successful: Dave, Patrick and Paul at Wissant, France
The return to the boat was quick … I held onto the back of the little
kayak and got towed back in. I climbed onto the boat and just felt so relieved,
happy and overwhelmed. A really great hug from Janeen and a dry towel … I was
eventually finished and collapsed on a bench.
“Geez … I actually made it”
I didn’t hang around for long before I fell asleep … a quick change of
clothes … I remembered to down a sea sickness table; the crew had already provided
me with a bucket … I obliged with emptying my gut briefly and efficiently … and
went off to lala land for the two hour cruise back home.
Lights out …
The most amazing sunset ever and the calmest seas went by unnoticed by
me. Several people messaged and phoned … but Janeen politely excused me …
thanks. I was far too tired and overjoyed to really take it all in.
An awesome sunset boat cruise back home for the crew
It took several days (actually life has been so busy since then, that
it may only happen once I slow down back home) to actually sink in that I had
done this. I don’t have a certificate or meal, nor a finishers shirt or results
page in a newspaper to check up on … but this one event will stay with me more
than any of the other commercial races and adventures I have ever done …
… thanks to everybody who helped me get this “one” … From the direct
support on the day; encouragement during my swim; support and tolerance I
received over the last two years; and all those that believed in me … also; all
the love, support and friends I visited while on my extended UK (France) trip.
“Thanks Myles … that was a great journey …” (9 September
2012, Dover
Cliffs)
... And now only one question remains: “What is next?”
