Channel Swim 2: Understanding the challenge
Jan 1st, 2019
It was a new year and a time for resolution. That off the cuff comment about me being a potential channel swimmer had been swirling inside my head for months at this point.
I’d oh so casually mentioned it to my wife and, not fooled for a second, she’d looked carefully at me, realised I was serious – again – and told me I should go for it. She knew roughly what would be involved in terms of financial and time cost and was fine with it. I’m a very lucky man.
I knew I needed to know more before I committed to this, I needed to be making informed choices or I might as well just be yelling how badly I wanted to be an astronaut. Was this something I could actually do? I was pretty sure I could theoretically swim 30 odd kilometres in one hit, but I knew there was more to it than that. What did I actually need?
I’d bought a couple of books and gleaned some useful information from them, but I wanted more than basic facts – I decided I needed to look someone in the eyes who had been there, done that. I didn’t know anyone who had swum the channel but surely someone in my circle did?
I fired up social media and in moments found Lou, a friend from the tri club posting congratulations to a ‘Wayne’ on completing a channel swim. A quick chat with Lou, and before I knew it, Wayne had offered to meet up and discuss the challenge. The whole thing had taken minutes.
Looking him up online I quickly realised Wayne Soutter was one of those rare true superhumans. When I typed his name into search engines the first hit was one that made me sit up and pay attention – A South African man has become the first person ever to swim from the Mull of Kintyre in Scotland to the north Antrim coast in Northern Ireland. I read the story with steadily increasing disbelief and at the end, stunned, I slammed my laptop shut, not wanting to read any further – I’d thought Wayne would be able to make it real as someone like me but there was a gap here that wasn’t what I’d been expecting.
There was one other thing that I had seen that gave me hope – I’d seen Wayne’s official record of completion on the Channel swimming association site. It had taken him just over 20 hours to swim the channel, which is one of the slowest ever – I’d been thinking it would take me 15 hours, but 33% longer than that meant this must be a harder challenge than I’d ever imagined.
Still shaken, I decided not to do anymore ‘homework’ but just meet the man without building anymore preconceptions that really weren’t helping at this point.
Eventually the prearranged day came around and I met Wayne at his office. He came out to meet me loudly and confidently, locking eye contact and shaking hands with a strong grip. I hadn’t really expected anything else, and I also quickly realised that although he was smiling and welcoming to a fault this was a man who clearly wouldn’t suffer fools gladly. I was pleased as he was looking exactly how I imagined a channel swimmer needed to be.
We started off chatting innocuously enough – I explained the journey I’d been on and told him I just didn’t know where to start – how to choose a pilot, when to book a slot, and some of the thousands of other questions bubbling away in my brain. Wayne laughed and empathised – he’d really only started swimming properly a year or so before his channel swim, and hadn’t been a million miles away from where I’d started in general fitness terms – he’d wanted to get fitter, and things had just gotten a little out of control since then. He’d also given himself less time to get ready than I had and assured me the dates I was looking at next year were realistic. As we drilled into the speeds and distances I was capable of, Wayne was more than comfortable with the idea of me actually getting across to France. Looking back, I’m really hoping the numbers I gave him were accurate – I’m sure they were but he seemed more impressed than I expected. I’m still quite bulky, so this isn’t a completely unusual reaction.
As we started drilling into the specific questions I’d raised, he made me laugh when it came to choosing a boat. Neither organisation publish success rates or anything like that so Wayne suggested I just book the ‘biggest ass boat’ I could find – as this is what is giving you some cover from waves which can make a real difference, and is also going to be better for the crew. He walked me though how the approximately two week window worked and what the swimmer slots meant. In each window a boat might book five swimmers in, and if the weather is bad, it might be a while before even the first swimmer gets off. He walked me though the tides not really mattering and even the time of year still winding up pot luck, so picking a slot wasn’t as concerning as I’d been worried about. He emphasised how important it was to establish a connection with the boat pilot, and once certain I wanted to go, to pick the phone up and call them as a first start on what should be regular communication as you build a relationship with the person most impacting on your chances to get across. This all made sense.
Although all of this was fascinating and directly addressing some of my issues, I couldn’t wait any longer, and I couldn’t find a polite way to ask so I just blurted it out. ‘Why did it take you so long?’
Wayne laughed and proceeded to tell me in a lot more detail than I’m going to repeat how he’d got pretty close to the French coast, had the tide change then swam on the spot for six hours waiting for it to change again so he could make progress and finally walk out on shore. Mentally I cringed at the thought of having been in the water for so long and knowing you weren’t going anywhere but he talked me through how the Dover Channel Training club condition you to not look either in front or behind (something pretty alien to me as a confident open water swimmer) as Dover’s high cliffs apparently take forever to disappear beneath the waves and this in itself can be crippling to a swimmers morale. Equally, France can take forever to get any closer. He knew it was taking longer than it should, but he had no idea it was going to be another six hours, which meant he just had to keep swimming until he was done, one way or another. We talked about the Dover club, and Wayne told me about his first visit, where they got him straight in the water for a six hour swim, even though up until that point his longest swim had been two hours. Although this came as a shock, without them he was certain he wouldn’t have got there. I made a mental note to get down there at some point this summer and see how it all works. Wayne had suggested I should be targeting at least a dozen Dover swims – including a couple of back to back swims over a two day weekend and reassured me that providing I got a ten hour swim in before the big day, like a 18m run is usually enough for a marathon, that should get me through.
As we moved on, Wayne spent a lot of energy stressing to me how important the boat crew you choose is – while tide changes were going on during his swim, the skipper was convinced he wasn’t going to make it and wanted to pull him out. Wayne’s mates, who knew just how bloody minded and determined he was, did whatever it took to make sure that didn’t happen. He also strongly advised me not to use family as crew – when you are suffering – and you will be suffering – family will just want to stop the pain. He knew of swims cancelled even once underway because of problems with and between the crew. This in itself had given me a lot to think about. He specified you need a minimum of three to five people to support you – none of this hadn’t occurred to me, I was focused on just swimming for a long time, but as he laid it all out it started to make sense.
Wayne walked me through the roles:
Boat Manager, responsible for making sure everything on the boat goes according to plan. He needs to be stubborn but charming and capable of managing the crew and potentially most importantly the skipper as well. They need to be capable of working to the plan, but also responding when things change with whatever it takes to finish the swim.
Feeder. This person is responsible for the food and fluid the swimmer is taking on – it sounds like a simple job, but when we are talking about preparing warm/hot food on a wallowing boat and a rigid schedule that’s potentially as frequently as every fifteen minutes, it becomes a lot more serious and demanding.
Ra-Ra person. As Wayne laid this one out, I cracked up. Wayne explained it’s this persons job to never take their eyes off you – as looking back at the boat and seeing your crew all not paying attention, stuffing their faces with bacon sandwiches or even just looking warm and cosy can really throw you off your stroke. Having someone you know will be there if you need anything can be critical.
Finally, support swimmers – after the first two hours, for one hour out of two you can have a swimmer in the water with you. They cannot touch you and cannot swim in front of you (even an accidental momentary touch of the boat is enough for disqualification) but having someone in the water can help. We discussed this as I wasn’t sure it would actually be a benefit, but we talked about pacing, and getting cold and realised that having a moving target to help with some of that could really make a difference.
As I realised just how complicated this was Wayne made a very generous offer – he suggested when I had my prospective crew together he would come and talk to them about what he went through, what he needed and what the critical dos and don’ts were for the boat crew. I felt this alone could potentially make a critical difference to my chances of success and left shortly afterwards, full of facts and details, but buzzing with excitement. He infectiously enthusiastic and had painted a fantastic picture of what is a genuine modern day adventure. There’s a transcript of the conversations his team had during the swim that you can find on the web that covers some of the detail I’ve not covered and conveys some of the highs and lows.
As I walked back to the railway station I pulled out my phone, looked up a number on the web and dialled.
‘Hello, is that the captain of the Viking Princess? I’d like to book a slot for next year….’
Next: Channel Swim 3: Thinking about David Walliams
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