LC English Channel Attempt, Part Three
If you haven’t read parts one and two you can find them in the links below.
After two trips to Dover in 2019 and 2021 without a swim start, Larry’s luck was finally about to change. In the previous two trips, his scheduled tide had been in September and August, respectively. In 2022, Larry was set to be the second swimmer on an eight-day tide beginning on July 4th. This essentially meant that the first potential day to swim was July 5th, assuming the first swimmer on the tide got their start on day one. When I arrived in Dover on July 2nd, I was told that the first ‘swimmer’ on the tide was an eight-swimmer relay. This was good news for a couple different reasons: 1) relay swims have a little more flexibility when it comes weather conditions (essentially they will swim on days where a solo swimmer might not) and 2) they tend to be done more quickly than most solo swims so the turnaround from one day to the next can be done more easily.
On Sunday, July 3rd, we got news that the relay swim would be going on the morning of the 4th and that we should be ready for Larry’s swim to take place on the 5th. This would mean arriving at the marina around 1:00 a.m. with the plan to depart at 1:30-2:00 and start the swim as soon as we got to the starting location. Getting news like this stood in such stark contrast to what we had dealt with in the previous two trips that it was almost hard to believe. The swim was not only going to happen, but it was going to happen on the first possible day that it could.
Larry, Lori and I spent some time on July 3rd going over the various gear and equipment we planned to bring along for the trip. We narrowed down what we needed to take along, but probably still ended up overpacking a bit. We didn’t really mind as we would rather find out later what we didn’t need than what we did need (and didn’t have).
On the morning of July 4th, we went down to the harbor for a short swim so that Larry could test the goggles he had planned to wear during his crossing. He was planning to start with one clear pair while swimming at night and switch to a tinted pair at some point when it was bright enough to do so. Around this same time, we were tracking the progress of the relay swim captained by the SUVA (Larry’s boat) and it was looking like a successful day for them. After the goggle test, we had lunch and then went back to prepare the swim nutrition. Larry was planning to use a drink mix that many channel swimmers use that is calorically dense without any flavoring. The idea was for us to mix up a 1.5 liter bottle that gave us ~250 calories for every 150 ml serving we used. On the boat, we could combine 150ml of mixed drink, 150 ml of warm water and a small splash of flavoring for each feed. We opted to only make one bottle at the moment; the year prior we mixed up everything and then the swim was called off, leaving us with a lot of useless drink mix that didn’t last long. As a hedge, we decided we would wait just in case the swim was called off and pushed to a later date.
Some time in the afternoon, the captain of the SUVA called Larry and told him that the relay swim had gone very well that day, but on the commute back to England the swells in the channel were really picking up. He said that the forecast for the next day was looking quite favorable, but that it might not improve enough by the start time. The plan was to still meet at the arranged time at 1:00 a.m., but there was a chance that the swim might be called off if we traveled to the starting point and the conditions had not improved enough. If the swim was called off, he did think that the weather looked good in the latter days of the week so all would not be lost.
Around that same time, I had been down near the harbor and had noticed that the ocean beyond the breakwater was looking quite rough with noticeable white caps. There doesn’t have to be whitecaps for it to be rough, so that was a clear sign that the ocean was in a turbulent state. However, the wind forecast for the next day looked very good. It was forecasting a shift from the NW, making it a wind at our back, and the late morning almost looked like a doldrum with a forecasted wind speed of zero(!).
Even though there was a chance that the swim would be a no go, we did everything as planned. We were going to meet at 12:30 a.m. to commute over to the marina. I can’t speak for Larry and Lori, but I was fortunate to have been able to sleep from about 9:00 p.m. until 11:30 p.m. and after I got up and stepped outside, I noticed the wind seemed extremely calm. The wind was always calmer by the motel than by the sea, but this still felt like a good sign. We packed up, commuted to the marina, unloaded/loaded up the gear and chatted with the captain and first mate. At this point, they told us that the swim would not be called off.
The swim was a go.
Waiting to depart for the marina.
After the observer showed up (every swimmer has an assigned observer to assure compliance with the rules), we started making our way out of the harbor, a little ahead of schedule. We knew there wasn’t a lot of time, so during the commute, we were getting Larry ready with extra sunscreen and Vaseline. I’ve had a lot of people ask about what swimmers use to avoid chafing during these long swims. It varies from swimmer to swimmer, but Larry uses Vaseline and finds it to hold up well for him across long ocean swims.
After about 15-20 minutes of commuting, we got within about 100 meters of the shoreline where the swim was set to begin. Or so we were told. It was pitch black and very hard to distinguish where the shore actually was. The captain had to shine a spotlight directly on it to guide Larry to the starting point (you can see the beach in daylight in the gallery below). Larry then had to swim to shore on his own and stand on the beach to establish readiness. At that point, the SUVA sounded the horn and the swim officially began at 2:04 a.m.
Given the time of year, Larry would only have to swim in the dark for the first 1.5-2 hours. Sunrise was a little after 4:00 a.m. and twilight was some time before then. Shortly after the swim started, I posted a video on twitter of him swimming in the dark and a lot of people commented back on how scary that seemed. Admittedly, it is at the very least creepy, if not scary, but the boat provides a big spotlight so the goal is to just sit in the beam and wait for the sun to rise.
During the commute over to the start, I had noticed that the ocean seemed a bit on the rough side, but I had been focused on Larry so I hadn’t really given it too much thought. After just a few minutes into the start, I was able to fully register that it was already pretty rough; maybe not as rough as it could be, but rougher than I had expected, especially this close to shore. Moreover, I noticed that Lori was starting to feel very seasick. I don’t know how long it takes for motion sickness to kick in, but I was once on a ferry from Playa Del Carmen to Cozumel in extraordinarily rough seas where at least ⅔ of all the passengers on board became seasick and it all happened about twenty minutes into the voyage. While all this is purely anecdotal, I’ve kind of settled on the fact that it can take as little as 20 minutes for someone to start feeling seasick. I have been fortunate enough to never be seasick, but I’ve been with many people who have and it truly wipes people out. Lori had used one of the motion sickness patches so we were hoping it might eventually kick in and alleviate some of her symptoms. Unfortunately, that never happened and Lori had to suffer for many hours with motion sickness.
Within 15 minutes of starting this swim, I developed a much clearer understanding of what the captains on these escort boats have to deal with during an EC crossing. They have to balance putting the boat in and out of gear all while keeping the swimmer in sight and keeping the boat from being pushed off its line from the tides and swells. I’m sure they all have an exceptional amount of experience, but it still seems incredibly daunting to have to remain in constant vigilance like that.
With the above in mind, we had to communicate with the captain any time we were going to do a feed as the boat would have to be slowed down before going into neutral to avoid too much movement while feeding. As our first planned feed came up, I gave the captain five minutes notice and then positioned myself on the side of the boat near the middle. After getting Larry’s attention, the boat was thrown in neutral and I handed off the first bottle for his feed (with 50 feet of rope attached). I was not quite prepared for how much movement would happen so quickly. The tides moved both Larry and the boat considerably and even within 30 seconds Larry had drifted well back and off to the side of the boat using up almost all of the rope. I had anticipated some movement, but not nearly this much. I realized I was going to have to make some adjustments going forward. Once he was done with the 300 ml feed, I reeled the bottle back in and he repositioned himself near the boat and proceeded to swim towards France.
Speaking of positioning, this was another constant challenge of the day. Due to the roughness of the sea, the boat was moving quite a bit so it was difficult for Larry to keep a consistent position relative to the boat. In calmer conditions, a swimmer can position themselves next to the boat and hold the line somewhat easily while just sighting the boat as they breathe. In Larry’s case, the position of the boat would move from side to side and front to back. This made holding a consistent line quite difficult and he couldn’t ever really just find his line to “pick and stick.”
As the subsequent feeds came up (one every 30 minutes was our plan) I changed my strategy. I was now starting as far forward as I could, dropping the feed, then running to the back of the boat while letting the line out as fast as possible. Even then, I would often have to lean over the railing and extend my arm out as far as possible to give some slack. A solid lesson I learned here is that the amount of rope needed is exceptionally more than one might think (at least on a day like today). On another attempt, I would probably change the style of bottle we used to more of a shaker type, but having said that, the style of bottle he was using (bigger with snap top) was still effective.
Following each feed, the observer would ask what he had taken in and then we would do a stroke count check (60 second count) to see if it was slowing down at all (a precipitous drop in stroke rate is a warning sign for hypothermia). Each check we made was holding nice and steady at 59/60 strokes per minute. I was even double checking about 15 minutes between feeds and he was never off by more than 1 stroke regardless of the swells.
Several hours into the swim, the ocean was getting rougher, but the wind was at our back. If you have wind, you certainly benefit from having it at your back, but if you have ever swam with a swell at your back, you will have noticed that you periodically get swamped. I saw Larry getting swamped from behind about every tenth swell or so. By swamped, what I mean is that at some point Larry would be low enough in the trough that the swell would pull him back a bit and then go over his head. This can amount to anything between a simple annoying rhythm breaker to swallowing a big chunk of sea water. This may not be a big deal when swimming shorter distances, but this constant barrage for hours and hours can be extraordinarily taxing.
Despite all these challenges, it seemed like Larry was doing quite well. From our boat, we could see almost every boat with a swimmer and Larry was ahead of all, but one, and that boat had started earlier than us (other boats were all around our start time). While using a subjective reference like that isn’t indicative of everything, it was still encouraging. Moreover, the captain said that Larry was holding as good a pace as the relay swim the day before (they had gone around 12 hours).
As I mentioned in part one, the English Channel is divided into five zones. England and France both have their own zones that extend about 5-6 miles offshore that serve as a buffer to the shipping lanes. The shipping lanes are similarly about 5-6 miles in width with one dedicated to south bound shipping and the other to north bound shipping. In between the two shipping lanes is the separation zone which the captain told me was just under a mile wide. As you approach the separation zone you are most likely reaching the roughest part of the channel. This comes from being the furthest distance from any shoreline compounded with the wake of tankers from either direction.
Soon we were approaching the five hour mark and had been constantly checking the radar to see how close we were getting to the separation zone. I believed that getting to, and beyond, this point would be a huge mental boost to Larry (or to any swimmer). It was right around this time that I started to see a couple other boats with swimmers turn around and head back to England. We were not able to tell what the reasons were for doing so, but it seemed like the conditions were taking a toll on many of the other swimmers.
As the five hour mark came upon us, we went into our tenth feed of the day. After downing the calories, Larry made a mention that he wasn’t feeling very well at that moment. We told him he was doing very well and just needed to keep it rolling. He didn’t linger and began swimming again right after the feed, but considering he had yet to say anything along those lines, I knew we needed to try and do something to help him out.
Channel swimmers are allowed to have someone swim with them at certain points and times. The rules pertaining to this are that 1) no one can swim with them until after the three hour mark, 2) the swimmer cannot swim more than one hour at a time and cannot lead the channel swimmer (no drafting) and 3) there has to be a three hour break between each swim. Originally, I had planned to do some swimming with him, but since Lori had been suffering from a harsh bout of seasickness, I had shelved that idea in order to maintain all the feeds.
When it comes to ultra endurance events/races, I always believe in going in with a plan. Having said that, I also believe that if a plan can get you about 60%+ of the way, that’s pretty good. Beyond that stage it’s as much about winging it and reading the situation as it is about sticking to any plan. Even though Larry hadn’t quite made it to the 60% point of the swim, I felt it was time to put the plan to the side and just work with the situation. I decided to get on the wetsuit and after the next feed I would hop in the water and swim with Larry. My hope was that by the time I got out we might be on the other side of the separation zone and perhaps that would lift Larry’s spirits a bit.
After I got the wetsuit on, I headed out on deck and was watching Larry swim. About 5-10 minutes before the scheduled feed at 5.5 hours, Larry stopped swimming. His sentiment from the previous feed had persisted and he was struggling to assess whether he could go on any further.
These situations are incredibly difficult. The reality of the situation is that Larry had been swimming for a very long time and still had a long time to go. The conditions had been challenging from the first stroke and had only gotten more challenging with each subsequent stroke thereafter. I believe I can speak on behalf of many endurance athletes by saying that when we start to feel poorly in moments like this, we can begin to extrapolate that feeling to how we will feel down the road (or swim in this case). Imagining that things will get better becomes incredibly daunting and seems futile, if not impossible.
In looking back to part one of this series, I mentioned that once a swimmer touches the boat, the swim is over. That’s all it takes.
While we were conversing with Larry and trying to convince him to carry on, he had not touched the boat. He understood the consequences of doing that and had not allowed himself to do so. Despite verbalizing his doubts at that moment, I took his hesitancy to touch the boat as a good sign. I told him I was going to jump in and swim with him and that all we needed to do was get to the next feed. We didn’t need to think about anything except swimming another 30 minutes. We could always stop later, but let’s not stop now. I quickly jumped in and he started swimming again. Good news. Maybe things would change for the better, maybe not. But at least he was going to find out.
As we started swimming, I heard the horn blow from the boat. I pulled my head up and heard the observer yelling for us to swim back towards the boat. I tapped Larry on the shoulder and told him we needed to head back in the other direction. My initial thinking was that we had started swimming in the wrong direction. Once you are in the water and can only see the water line, you can’t see anything in the middle of the channel. We could very well swim in circles for a long time and never realize it.
As we got back alongside the boat, we were told that the rope pulling the dinghy behind the boat had drifted and wrapped around both the prop and the rudder. While we had been conversing with Larry the boat had been idling in neutral causing the line pulling the dinghy to no longer be taut. As it floated freely, it had drifted into a worst case scenario for us.
After hearing the news, I quickly climbed the ladder to see if there was anything that could be done. I have had this happen on a much smaller scale with ski ropes getting caught in props. While not exactly the same, in those situations I have seen it be something that could be fixed on the water and other times where boats have to be towed into shore.
As this was happening, Larry was still treading water and hadn’t touched the boat yet in case things improved. Unfortunately, the captain said that the situation was not likely to improve and that there was a good chance we would have to be towed back to England by the Coast Guard. With that news, Larry was instructed to get out of the water.
The swim attempt was now officially over.
Getting Larry out of the water was challenging. Climbing a ladder out of the water after being prone for so long (in rough seas) was not an easy task. Once we got him inside the cabin he was feeling quite poorly. Not only was he feeling all the after effects of swimming for nearly six hours in a cold, turbulent ocean, but the boat was getting tossed around pretty violently because of the engine loss. At one point, a set of tanker waves hit the boat and threw both Larry and I to the ground. Larry hit the side of his head (he was ok) and all the gear was thrown around like a yard sale. Additionally, after about 20 minutes, the tossing and turning of the boat started to make Larry seasick as well.
Things were rough.
While all this was going on, the captain and first mate were trying to fix the situation. I didn’t realize it at the time, but they were concerned about some of the tanker waves (like I just described) potentially swamping the boat if they hit us fully broadside. The captain was set to jump in the water and try to see if it was a salvageable situation when suddenly the rope severed off one prop making one engine operable again (the boat had a dual prop). We would be able to get back to shore, but at a significantly reduced speed with only one of two engines working.
The trip back took a considerable amount of time; I’d guess it was somewhere north of 2 hours. When I was growing up, I did a decent amount of deep sea fishing off the coast of Texas and I have had more than my fair share of broken boat experiences, including a tow from the Coast Guard, and this was reminiscent of those days. In the first 90 minutes or so, Larry was still feeling very seasick, but as we got closer to England, he started to feel well enough to move around again.
We made our way into the marina, unloaded the boat, called a cab and then headed back to the motel. The last 12 hours had been a whirlwind and as all the commotion finally came to standstill we were left with a series of mixed emotions. With all the challenges that had come through the years leading up to this day, we were made even more aware of just how daunting of a feat it is to swim across the English Channel.
In the following days, we discussed the event in a cursory capacity, but it took about a week before we could dive into everything objectively and reflect on what we learned from that day.
With that same thinking in mind, I’ll reflect on the aftermath in the final part of this series in the weeks to come.
-justin