With recent ILDSA ratification my odyssey to swim the North Channel formally concludes.
Initially booked for 2020 when pandemic stopped play, then 3 attempts over 2022/23 seasons.
Had I succeeded the first time and been asked to consider another crossing I would have surely dismissed the idea. Got the T-shirt thanks – I’ll train again but without the cold.
Now I feel quite differently. The North Channel has become something of a muse, having spent just shy of 50 hours in it. There is good reason for the cliché that magic happens outside of one’s comfort zone – so it was for me, but not in the way I imagined of course.
I will attempt the North Channel again (current age record is 65 years 204 days). On a given occasion I may make it, I may not. It is just a swim at the end of the day. And once I reconciled myself to this, I knew inevitably I would be successful. I just needed my preparation to coincide with some luck.
This happened in July.
The forecast for my tide was balanced – possible openings appeared then closed with a rolling commentary from Jacqueline keeping us on tenterhooks as Padraig wrangled the options. This is where Infinity’s experience of the strait and ability to quickly transport swimmers to potential start points comes to the fore. The fleet of ribs and expertise with forecasting tech have created viable swim opportunities where none seemed to exist years past.
So it was that on the evening of the 18th July I went for a relaxed dinner with my crew, the forecast now suggesting we would start at midday. We discussed the challenges of finishing at night and swimming into a setting sun. Then at midnight the call came to meet at the marina for 6am. So passed any chance of good night’s sleep.
Generally I’m not too nervous before swims. I know I’ve done the work and I know I want the challenge. This time though the delays felt like stays of execution, and when I knew I was taking the plunge I became deeply introspective. My crew, sensing a shift from normal, were a little concerned (and entertained). My emotions were well captured in the picture below. The start was grey and the water choppy. I had every faith that Infinity knew what they were doing, and the company of other three other boats escorting swimmers, including Matt Murphy going for double. It was hard to register this though.
Get in, get on, get out. Anything else is noise. Easy to say, harder to do.
There are far fewer reference points in the North Channel than many other long swims, but I had sufficient experience now to infer my progress and I knew it was solid. I checked my distance from shore with each feed and past the Copeland Islands on my left. You can get a decent tidal push out from Robbie’s Point on this route, and of course Infinity had fully availed us of it. Water was chill but not cold (hovered around 15C all day) and the stings were present but nothing in the face.
The first few hours though the demons were out in force. The rough water and overcast sky mirrored my unsettled mood. I was sighting the other boats and could see I was in last place. Foolish habit; foolish thoughts. In hindsight I think the build-up and initial hours served equally to frighten and focus me. I knew this was my best chance to date. My training had gone off without a hitch. I’d set PBs in the pool and open water in the preceding months, helped I think by some weight loss that had not meaningfully impacted my ability to deal with the cold. My feeding plan, so often poorly executed, was spot on. I had both Jon and Lucy with me – as experienced a crew as one could hope for. I couldn’t be the only one not to get across; I couldn’t fail again.
Then about 3 hours in a crisis starts to from. My hip flexors began to cramp. I have experience of this, but previously only after at least 6 hours. ‘This too shall pass’ is something you learn in this sport. If you can ignore discomfort long enough it will go away, or more likely your brain morphs it into something else, but the effect is the same. It didn’t pass though, rather it got worse. I could feel the pain radiating into my core and I began to lose my anchoring. I requested painkillers in the next feed and went back to work on my internal monologue. This too shall pass..
And pass it did. The pain eased, my core engaged, and my mood began to lift. Before 6 hours elapsed I began to see greening on the Scottish shore and I knew the worst was behind me. It sounds like a dangerous thought to entertain, but I felt safe letting a moderated confidence grow. The sun came out, the water flattened, the jellies were largely absent until near the end. I was warm and feeling strong. I was taking all my feeds.
Didn’t pee, didn’t need to, didn’t care – to date I never have peed in the North Channel.
Rather than becoming wearier as the swim progressed I felt stronger. My stroke rate was a metronomic 46, I was bantering with the crew, and I found my mind inviting more challenges. The sky could cloud, the wind could rise, the jellies could return in force – bring it on. So instead of a compounding struggle for Scottish coast, I experienced what felt like an extended victory lap. The last 10 miles of that swim were the happiest times I’ve ever had on the water and some of the most pleasurable of my life.
The picture below is my dream finish (short of swimming into Portpatrick harbour of course..) capped by a beach landing and a group hug with Jon and Lucy. I could happily have got back in and kept swimming for hours more. My only tiny regret is that I didn’t push a bit harder at the end.
I controlled what I could well enough for the luck I was afforded that day. I am so grateful.
And if you’ll forgive another Oscars moment, my eternal thanks to:
Jon Southey and Lucy Ashdown-Parkes – best swim buddies you could hope for. Finally we’re all North Channel veterans. Sorry it took so long..
Kevin Murphy/The King’s Swimmers – the OG. Calm, deliberate, trusting the process. Removed any doubt that I had the ability.
Lorraine Mackie – some measure of return for the many hours we spent. Better late than never.
Sarah Philpott and Des Hutton/Neptune Channel Swimming – a real full-service beach crew and training partners for the modern Dover swimming community. The flexibility to work training support around my other commitments and the prevailing weather was brilliant. Stoked to sport the gold hat on Scottish shores.
infinity Channel Swimming – Jacqueline McClelland, Padraig Mallon, Ian Conroy, Milo McCourt – expertise, patience and professionalism. As well-oiled an operation as you could wish for.
Quinton Nelson – the pioneer of my route and a bedrock of North Channel swimming history.
Donaghadee “Chunky Dunkers” Swimming Gang! SKINS ONLY GROUP – run by Martin Strain. I expect to feel like a guest in a foreign place on swims abroad. The Dunkers literally make you feel at home away from home. They provide that safe space while you manage the emotional rollercoaster.
Ray Gibbs/Swimm Canary Wharf – https://www.swimcanarywharf.com – broke my stroke down and built it up again. Made me the 3kph swimmer I needed to be.
Lewis Waterworth – https://pier36.co.uk – the spiritual home of North Channel swimmers – great digs and superb food aside. Marking my name on that wall is one of my proudest moments.
Those who knew the right words at the right moments – Matt Murphy, Mark Hamilton, Val Kalmikovs, Stephen Junk, Kevin Davies, Matt Rice, Jonty Warneken, Ned Denison, Sal Minty-Gravett, Stephen M. Redmond, Adrian Sarchet, Stephen Smallwood
Irene Wakeham – very sad to hear the news of her passing this week. A no nonsense approach couched with gentle humour. R.I.P.
My long-suffering family of course, doing a wonderful job of feigning interest as I ramble on about swimming these last years. That welcome home was the perfect denouement.
North Channel – you fickle bitch. Until next time..
