England to France 18:40 August 5/6/2011

I don't know where to begin, but I know that I have already forgotten half of what's happened so I'd better try to get some of my swim down before it's all gone. It's so much like childbirth, your brain immediately softens your memories or you would never have another kid. Don't know why it would be like that for a swim since it doesn't matter to the species if I ever do any thing like this again, but the details are drifting away and at lunch I was already talking with my fabulous crew about other swims to tackle when just last night I swore to my daughter that I wouldn't do anything like this ever again... So funny.

To start off, I had the best crew in the world. Hands down, no questions, the best. And to be honest, we met on the internet. That thing you tell your kids not to do, I did, and it turned out brilliantly. I met Robert and Hannah when I signed up to swim the Gibraltar Straights in July of 2010. They were booked to swim the week after me, and we decided to meet on my last night in Tarifa and have dinner. Robert wanted to talk to someone who had done the swim before he was to go, and I wanted to talk to people who would understand what I had just done. We liked each other straight off, and they kept talking up the English Channel as my next adventure. Robert said that I needed to set another goal because people often get down after a big accomplishment. I couldn't take that in then, but a few weeks later, his words rang true and I found myself thinking about the Channel. We kept in touch over the internet and after January I paid my fees and booked a pilot. I didn't get up the courage to ask Robert to come on my boat until late this summer because it was so important to me that he be there and I didn't know what I would do if he said no. Lucky for me he was game. He thought Hannah wouldn't be able to get off work, but if my attempt was on the right day, she too would come along. This turned out to be a godsend because Hannah was brilliant on twitter and she took about 400 photographs and hours of video. I don't know how I'll ever repay their kindness. And it was matched and maybe even surpassed by the kindness of Jackie and Dave Cobell who picked me up at the airport, got food for my pilot and crew, gave me a place to sleep and got me to the boat in fine time to start my swim. Jackie Cobell is a World Record holder for the longest ever successful channel swim 28 hours and 44 minutes. After her swim she was interviewed on National television saying that she would like to swim the Alcatraz Swim in California. My club, the South End Rowing Club, called her up and invited her to come to San Francisco and be the guest of honor for the Alcatraz Invitational last September. I was her buddy swimmer and tour guide. We hit it off immediately and after meeting her and swimming with her, she gave me the courage to believe that I might be able to take on the Channel. We kept in touch and I called her in January and told her that I was booking a swim. She said that I was welcome to stay with her, and that she would like to help out on my swim. It was Jackie who Stuart Gleeson (my Channel Swimming Association Pilot) called to offer the early start. She called me in California and I jumped at the chance without asking any questions. I believe in fate and I figured the channel gods were giving me the nod. And looking at the weather now, I might have been blown out if I had had to wait for my official window. I broke all the rules I thought I was supposed to follow, I went on a Spring tide instead of the smaller, gentler Neap tide. I started my swim never having practiced in Dover Harbor. I didn't give myself any time to get over my jet lag. I just jumped at the chance to swim. My biggest fear was that I would train forever, spend tons of money to fly to England, wait for ten days, and never get to swim. And thanks to Jackie's quick work, and my lovely Pilot, I made it from Samphire Hoe to Calais (almost Dunkirk) in 18 hours 40 minutes, August 5/6th, 2011.

I am so sad because I wrote about 1,000 words about this adventure and they disappeared into the ethernet... so this may seem a bit disjointed, but I keep thinking that I've already said this or that. But here goes again.

...They don't know it, but I am swimming for the ladder on the back of the Sea Leopard. If they would only let me catch up. I would take hold and give up on this crazy swim. The worst time has been from 11:30 pm to 3:30 am. It is so dark. I am so cold. I have had a cramp in my groin that started before it got dark and just won't let go (the cramp ends up lasting for ten hours). I have been shivering on and off since about midnight. I have never shivered while I swam before. It is scary. The cramp painful, but manageable, and Jackie and Robert have given me aspirin which has helped a bit. They never leave my sight. one of them is ALWAYS watching me. If one does sit down, t is only to fix my next feed, or to take a GPS reading. This is not a solo swim. It is a team effort. The Sea Leopard is so small that it feels like the crew are here suffering with me. And with the torrential rain, they are as wet as if they were swimming themselves.

I got to England at about 2:00 pm on Thursday afternoon. My Pilot had asked us to meet up with the boat in Dover Harbor at 12:30 am. I had called Robert and Hannah before I left California so they were already on there way when I landed. Jackie and Dave picked me up at the airport (thank you) and when we got home to "Blue Chips" in Tonbridge, we called Stuart and he told us that the wind was refusing to "lay down" and he put us off for twelve hours. I called Robert but since they had already left for Dover they decided to press on and they'd see us in the morning. Jackie put me to bed, and I took an Ambien and hoped that I could get some sleep. I remember waking up several times and thinking, tomorrow I am going to swim the English Channel, and then I would role over and tell myself to let it go and get some sleep. We got up and had some "porridge" and got in the car for Dover. Jackie's daughter Vickie and her foster son Luke came with us to Dover. We met Robert and Hannah at the Premier Hotel, and casually sat around having some coffee. Jackie suggested that maybe we should go to the boat and meet Stuart. Robert was shocked to learn that we were set to cast off in an hour. He had thought that we were put off for a day, not just 12 hours. He jump started us and things never calmed down after that. Lucky for me too. Robert and Jackie talked a lot about the feeding and what to tell me while I swam... and I started to get ready. The official CSA observer, Keith, wanted to go over a few things with me. The first hick-up was that my two piece swim suit was not allowed and did I have a "standard costume" I could use? I thought he was kidding, but he wasn't. So I changed out of my treasured South End swim suit (gift from Katrina) and put on an old stand by with thin straps that would plague me all the way across (took the top off long before it got dark and only put it back on to walk out in France).

The boat got underway and Jackie slathered on the sun screen and the bag balm (my chosen "channel grease"). As we were leaving the harbor, Keith asked everyone for our passports. We immediately turned around and Robert sprinted for his car to get theirs (lucky thing we weren't stopped and boarded, because they had forgotten their passports and only had their drivers licences). It was about a 15 minute ride to the beach for my start, Samphire Hoe on the south side of where the chunnel starts. The boat stopped and I just dove in. No fuss, no fuss, no thought! No thought that this was really it. The beginning of my channel attempt. Maybe that was the right thing, but looking back i was damn cavalier. I swam to the beach, and as the CSA rules, I walked completely out of the water into a group of Australians who had just watched their mate take off on her solo swim. They cheered and took my picture. I raised my hand, and Stuart sounded the horn and back into the channel I went.

The water was a beautiful green and not too cold. The sun was shinning and the sea was churning. It wasn't exactly rough, but it wasn't the mill pond I had been promised. I guess that was just a load of crap, but it only got worse. It was the hardest swimming I had ever experienced. I can't really describe what it was like. I swam uphill and down, I had to drive my hand into the waves. I couldn't get a rhythm and every third or fourth breath, I'd be slapped in the face with a mouth full of water. I drank gallons of water. I swam on the right side of the boat. There was a lot of traffic. I was dumbfounded by the amount and size of the ships going by. One came so close that Stuart asked me to stop swimming and wait so it would pass us by. I welcomed the chance to chat even though it was dark and cold.

I wanted to stop. I wanted to get on that boat. But Jackie and Robert were so earnest and stalwart. They weren't giving up on me. I told myself, if I could make it until daylight, I would feel better and it would be warmer. I thought I could hold on until daybreak. Unfortunately the dawn did not bring sun or warmth. But France was closer, and off and on I could see the lights and the trees, so I just kept swimming. The pilot told me that the tide would turn soon and that I would be able to reach the beach after that. Robert had sopped showing me the time and the miles going by. I thought this was because I was so close and the swim was almost over. I knew that your eyes played tricks on you from the water, and it often looked like you weren't getting any closer. But what really happened was that Robert had run out of numbers. My swim was taking so long and his cards stopped at 15 hours. And I had swum so far north that I was off his chart so he had no idea how many miles I had covered by this point. Ignorance is bliss, I just kept swimming. I was expecting the tide to turn and push me into the beach. Stuart meant that it would turn and I might finally be able to cross the last half a mile. Then the boat stopped. I had been waiting for this. Mark Stone had told me about the amazing feeling when the boat stops because it means it's too shallow, and you are almost there. Then the magical moment came and Stuart asked me if I could stand up? I thought he was crazy, I was still way off shore, of course I couldn't stand up. I tried to put my feet down and nothing. But now I knew that I would be able to soon. And then I could! I kept swimming anyway because I had planned to "swim until you touch sand". And I did. I touched the sand, and stood up and walked out onto a beach full of birds with a Frenchman with a rifle on his shoulder. I walked up to him and shook his hand. I don't think he thought much of it, but I was pleased. Hannah came ashore in the tender and brought the South End flag and the video camera. We scoured the beach looking for a rock, but there were none. I picked up a few mussle shells and we got back in the tender and headed back to the Sea Leopard. Jackie threw her arms around me, Robert took photos and opened a bottle of champagne. Jackie helped me into some dry clothes and we headed back to Dover. I talked the whole way back, no sleep for me. I was so high, I felt like I could walk on water to get back. Dave met our boat waving cheerfully from the dock and then we went to the beach to meet the CS & PF beach crew, Freda, Emma, and Irene. We stayed for nearly and hour chatting and excepting congratulations all around. It was magical. Everyone was shocked that I was still standing, but I couldn't imagine missing this.