I literally didn't sleep a wink the night
before I swam the Straits of Gibraltar. I can honestly say I have never been as
nervous before a swim as I was prior to this one, not even close. On the face
of it that may seem strange. The Straits are only 10miles across. A swim, timed
with favourable currents, can expect to be finished in well under 4hrs – much
quicker than many of my longer marathon swims. Admittedly the weather can be a
bit variable, the area is popular with kite surfers for a reason - lots of
wind, but on our crossing the forecast was for calm, benevolent conditions, in
fact you would have been hard pressed to pick a nicer day except for one small
thing, the water temperature. In summer the water reaches a toasty 23C/69F, in
winter a low of 15C/62. So in early May I was expecting maybe high teens,
nothing too chilly. The first day in Tarifa I went in for a quick dip, the
water was surprisingly cold and the thermometer read a chilly 14.2C, this was
not what I was expecting, this was not what I had been training for. Even
though that first dip was only 20minutes I came out shivering, right then I
knew I was in trouble.
I had selected the Straits of Gibraltar for
2 reasons, firstly it was a short, straight forward crossing of some
international acclaim and secondly it was close to England where I was living.
I also really loved the idea of swimming from Europe to Africa! Serendipity had
certainly played a part in this swim, I had been too slow to organize a solo
crossing for 2012 (slots filled up quickly) but I knew an American friend of
mine, Darren Miller, who was swimming the straits and he generously agreed to
let me accompany him on his swim – two solo swims from one boat. Two turned
into four when Darren invited two other long distance swimmers, Jamie Patrick
and Jen Schumacher to come along as well and all of a sudden we had a party!
Darren's swim was booked for the first week of the season and so late on the
29th of April all four of us arrived on the south coast of Spain to embark on
our communal swim adventure.
The following morning, our first in Tarifa
and just after my chilly twenty minute dip, we met with the president of the
Gibraltar swim association – Raphael Mesa. Raphael was friendly and welcoming
and in his broken English he forecast a good week of weather but showed some
concern at the unseasonably cold water. I was starting to share his concern but
I didn't want to get too worked up without justification and we planned a
second dip that afternoon to practice swimming together ahead of our projected
swim locked in for two days later. That afternoon we got in for a 30minute swim
and practiced swimming side by side. Fifteen minutes one way, parallel to the
beach and then the same back. We were swimming relatively slowly and
stopping to chat and swap positions but after 30min I was very happy to get
out. I was chilled to the bone and shivering, the sun was out and I warmed up quickly
on the beach but I was starting to feel very worried. I spent the rest of the
day feeling anxious and pondering how I would cope for up to four hours in the
cold water.
We decided to have a longer practice swim on
our penultimate day, a one hour swim, starting early to replicate the next days
start time. By 45min my teeth were chattering and I felt very uncomfortable, I
finished the hour but my anxiety levels were reaching new levels and I jogged
back to the hotel for a long hot shower. I was coming to the realization that
there was a very real likelihood that I may not be able to complete the swim.
It was an anxiety filled day, I struggled to stomach my lunch and I had a
nervous conversation with Vickie as I tried to talk up how I could make the
swim. My strategy was to try and break up the swim into five, 45min blocks. Even
in very cold water I can usually manage 45min so if I could just convince
myself at each feed to persevere for another 45min stint I might be able to
talk myself across, that might get me through the first three feeds anyway and
by then I might be close enough to manage the last 90 minutes. The mental
aspect of swimming through the cold was only half the battle though, the
unknown was whether I would get dangerously hypothermic. What if I started to
become disorientated or actually incapacitated with hypothermia?
We had a final carbo-loaded meal that night
and prepared our gear for the swim, thermos flasks for hot feeds, energy gels
and all our swimming kit and post swim clothes. I was feeling pretty awful. My
stomach was in knots, I lay down in bed at about 10pm and stared at the
ceiling. All I could think about was the cold water, every time I started to
feel sleep overtake me a vision of the chilling sea would work into my thoughts.
It was a long sleepless night and at times I could feel my heart pounding in my
chest, a part of me found the physical manifestations of such severe anxiety
fascinating but mostly I was genuinely unable to shake an impending sense of
doom, a feeling that crept relentlessly closer with each passing minute. I looked at the clock just once at 4.30am
and realized I had only 30min more with my thoughts before it would be time to
get up. At 5am I gave up the battle and got up, I tried to eat some
breakfast but could manage only a few mouthfuls and a sip of energy drink. I
slowly gathered my things together and we started to pack up the car, as the
others all congregated I slipped away to the far side of the car park and
proceeded to vomit up what little I had eaten. All I could hope was that once I
started swimming the nerves would settle and I would be able to stomach some
much needed nutrition. I was banking on hot drinks to help with the cold, if I
couldn’t even stomach them I was going to get cold and run out of energy very
quickly. We arrived at the boats and started to prepare ourselves for the swim,
the sun was creeping above the horizon but the air temperature was still cool.
We had to apply any grease we were using before getting on the boat, the boat
captain understandably didn’t want four swimmers getting mess everywhere.
Darren had two large pots of a channel grease mixture and I was keen to get as
much as possible on my torso. The addition of Zinc oxide in Darren’s mix meant
I looked a little like Casper the ghost by the time I had finished but I was
determined to get what little insulation benefit the grease would provide. We
wrapped beach towels around us to keep us warm as the small boat took us around
to the starting point of the swim and with little ceremony we launched
ourselves into the cold, clear sea. We swam quickly over to touch the rocks at
the end of the harbour to officially start our swim, as we headed off in the
distance the Atlas mountains were visible above the watery horizon, only
10miles to Africa!
I had been hoping that once the swim was
actually under way I would not feel the cold as much as in the days before,
telling myself the grease and the adrenaline would keep me a little warmer.
Within thirty minutes I knew that wasn’t going to be the case, my teeth were
starting to chatter and I could feel my muscles shivering as I swam. Five,
forty-five minute swims, I told myself. At the first feed my hands were shaking
significantly from the cold, I enjoyed the hot drink though and drank more than
I would normally consume during a race, the nausea had gone, as had the
anxiety. As it happened the concern I had had about being cold, was worse than
the reality. Sure I was cold - trembling, teeth chatteringly cold, but I was
swimming now and each minute was bringing me closer to my goal. I had been this
cold before and it wasn’t dangerously cold just uncomfortably unpleasant. As I
breathed to my left I could see the sun was rising steadily in the east and the
sea was incredibly calm, it was like looking across a lake. The Spanish
coastline was receding slowly behind us and in the distance I could make out
the looming rock of Gibraltar. All four of us swam in a near perfect line
keeping pace comfortably and the swim went from being a huge physical battle
against the cold to feeling like a communal adventure, I wasn’t exactly having
fun but I wasn’t struggling either. By an hour and a half I had warmed up a
little, my teeth had stopped chattering and my hands weren’t shaking as much, I
could still feel my muscles shivering but the improvement was enough to make me
feel positive about coping with the cold. This swim is famous for sea life,
dolphins and whales who often accompany swimmers but we saw nothing bigger than
fish and unfortunately the only close encounters were with some fairly nasty
jellyfish that lashed us across our faces and bodies. We were now into the
middle hour of the swim, we had seen several tankers passing by from east to west
and now in the distance they were travelling the other way which meant we were
approaching the second shipping lane. I had been telling myself if I could get
through the first three feeds then surely I would be able to cope with the last
ninety minutes. As we stopped for that third feed the African coast was
starting to look closer and we could make out the massive nearby port of
Tangier-Med on the shoreline. We headed off again and we knew we were well into
the far shipping lane when a massive tanker passed just a few hundred metres
ahead of us, it was a reminder of how quickly these behemoths of the sea move
up close. I was once asked whether on a channel swim they avoid us or we avoid
them? The comparative speeds mean that the swimmer has virtually no ability to
get out of the way of these enormous vessels, if the tankers didn’t physically
avoid us there would be no practical way to avoid being mowed down. Raphael had
warned us before the swim that if a tanker got within 1km of us and was not
altering it’s course we would be instantly pulled from the water, bearing in
mind that the tankers could be travelling at 15knots or 30km/hr comfortably
that would give us about two minutes to get four people onto the support boat
and out of the way of something weighing more than 100,000 tonnes! Fortunately
even our relatively close proximity to that particular tanker was of no great
consequence other than some sizeable waves from its’ wake and it was the last
tanker to pass before we were through the shipping lane. We had a fourth feed
at the three-hour mark and there was a little more chat and enthusiasm from the
swimmers as we realized we were now getting close to our goal. In my head I was
hoping that this was the last stop before we hit solid ground but I knew from
experience that it was dangerous to assume you were close to the end of a swim,
if tides or currents kept you out for longer than anticipated it can be
desperately demoralizing. As the coastline was getting noticeably closer an
official looking black motorboat intercepted our support boat and we could see
some animated discussion between the Coastguard and our pilot. I wasn’t
particularly concerned but the thought of being pulled from the water by the
Coastguard within a kilometer of the African coast was a little disconcerting.
They seemed satisfied however with whatever information they received and
disappeared just as quickly leaving our final approach unobstructed. I could
make out some rocks several hundred meters away jutting out from the shore and
we seemed to be heading in that direction. It had been a great team effort, swimming in impressive coordination for the last three and a half hours and I
imagined us all touching the African shore in unison to celebrate our success, it
was about that point that Darren started sprinting! I am at heart a competitive
beast and I wasn’t about to be outsprinted even if there was nothing at stake
so I fired up the six beat kick and shot past Darren, I touched the rocks just
ahead of him becoming just the second successful swimmer of the year to cross
the straits (there had been one other successful crossing the day before). We
all clambered out onto the rocks and congratulated each other. My whole body
was still shivering and I was in no mood to hang around so I dived back
in and swam quickly to the support boat where dry clothes and towels were
waiting. The sun was now well above us and the air temperature a pleasant 19 degrees.
I actually warmed up quite quickly once I was out of the water. I could feel aches
in my muscles that were more from the shivering than the exertion of the swim
and my face and shoulder throbbed from the jellyfish stings but I felt the best
I had for two and a half days. No anxiety, no nausea and the immense
satisfaction of another marathon swim successfully accomplished.
Each swim is different, each presents a unique
challenge, physically and mentally. I almost defeated myself on this swim by
being so worried about whether I could cope with the cold. I often repeat to
myself a quote by Mark Twain – “Only those who will risk going too far can
possibly find out how far one can go”. Sometimes it is not success or failure
that dictate whether we have achieved our ambitions but simply the willingness
to attempt what we think is beyond us.
Many thanks to Brian Patterson for the great photos, Michelle and Kim for the vital support on the day and Jen, Jamie and Darren for being such fun to swim and hang with.
