Storm in a teacup

I'm getting nervous now. Nervous and excited, but nervous. I think the main thing is that I can't wait for it to all be over. Talking today on the beach to Alison Streeter (has swum the Channel 43 times) and Kevin Murphy (has swum the Channel 33 times). Kevin's swimming the same tide as me - this is his attempt at his 34th crossing - we're both playing the waiting game. They both said that they always feel trepidation, dread, I guess. Can't wait to get it started. I think as soon as you start swimming then the adrenalin takes over, but before that. Well.

Saturday...
I stayed down in Dover last night as I was picking my mom up from the airport. It's nice to have a leisurely start - not to have to get up at six - but I still have to force breakfast down at the hotel, and still find it a struggle to get down to the beach and in the mood to swim. I won't miss these early starts.

It's a mad day. The wind is very strong, the tide is way out, and there are big breakers crashing on the beach. Like you could easily surf in this water. It's mad. I've never seen anything like it. It's not as rough as it was last week - that was much worse. But the particularity of the south westerly wind and the very low tide mean that huge waves are coming into the beach. It's lovely and sunny though!

Freda gives all of the swimmers who are due to go on the coming tide, a two hour swim. Others have five or six or seven. I feel sorry for them having to swim in this. No Annette today so I set off for the East ferry wall on my own. It is a struggle getting out beyond the breakers, apart from anything we have to walk out quite far - several hundred metres - before we are deep enough to swim. Swim off to the East wall and then back past swimmers' beach and off to the Hoverspeed wall. I get to the Hoverspeed wall and this is where it's worst. It's a seething churning mass and it's hard not to be a bit daunted by it. I stop just short of the Hoverspeed wall and stop to take stock. The water underneath me is very murky and swirling and strangely dark today. I imagine that it's because of all the sand and silt from the bottom that is being thrown around. Spooky. As I stop to take stock, my legs drop down a bit and I suddenly realise to my amusement that I have been swimming in water no more than about a foot and a half deep. No wonder it's so blooming dark - my face is nearly scraping along the bottom of the sea bed. And I'm several hundred metres from the beach. There is something completely and utterly hilarious about all us swimmers, battling along through the huge surf, getting freaked out, and not even realising that we are swimming in the equivalent of the shallow end of a pool.

I look up, and look around. Suddenly I realise that dotted around the horizon are quite a number of other swimmers standing up, scratching their heads, and laughing to themselves in bafflement. We've really never seen the tide this far out, with this wind. The greatest fun to be had is like this: swim a bit, spot another swimmer struggling through the huge waves towards you, wait for them to pass right by, and then stand up, knee deep, right in front of them. Watch their faces. Soon, all of the swimmers have worked it out, and we're just standing around in random groups chatting and laughing. It helps lighten the mood of the beach. I swim around chuckling for an hour, despite the hard work.

Two hours flies by in these strange conditions. It really is a storm in a tea cup.

Sunday...
I'm hoping for an hour but Freda gives me two and when I protest she tells me to swim the first easy and relaxed and the second to sprint. OK. Suits me fine. Annette is game too, as she was out at a party last night and is feeling rather the worse for wear.

It's windy but not as windy as yesterday, and the tide is way out again. The water is very murky today. You can't see anything - not even your hand. When it's like this it's like swimming into thick fog. You can't see anything below. It's sensory deprivation alright. Today I feel like this easy, foggy swim gives me too much time to think. I'm swimming alongside Annette just turning things round and round in my mind about my up and coming challenge. There is too much time to think now. I'm getting very nervous. We finish our first lap in 1 hour and 1 mins and set off to sprint bits of our second lap. Easy down to the groyne and then sprint the ten minutes down to the East harbour wall. Then we swim easy up the wall and then sprint back down. It's hard work today for me, I feel a bit lethargic. But the good thing about the change of pace is that it takes my mind off the boredom and off the preoccupation with what I'm about to do. I get out of the water after two hours feeling jolly again.

When I get out I realise that some of the other swimmers who are due to go on this tide have been given three hour swims by Freda, not two hours like me. It immediately makes me a bit nervous. Freda mostly gives us the same sets. I approach Freda and ask her why I got two and Katie got three. Of course in my mind I'm imagining that it's because she's worried that I'm tired and she doesn't want to tire me out more or something. "Different things for different people Sally, don't worry about it". And then she adds "You're enjoying yourself out there". I don't know how that's relevant, but take it that it is, and am relieved that it's something positive.

I spend a couple of hours on the beach chatting to other swimmers - it's a lovely day - and at the beach swimming today and preparing for the next tide are swimmers from Japan, China, India, Australia, the US, Switzerland, the Czech Republic. The air is tinged with excitement. The rest of the day is spent getting kit together for the swim - maxim, water and stuff like that, and phoning my crew. Tomorrow I'll phone Neil my pilot for an update. It's looking pretty windy for the first couple of days of the tide. I just have to watch the weather forecast and wait.

Saturday, 62F, 2 hours
Sunday, 62F, 2 hours

Comments

Cool report Sally. I have every confidence in your ability to get across this time and whats more, enjoy it! I'll chant for a fair wind for France for you. I feel that psychologically and physically you couldn't be better prepared...
My small swimming plan is for next weekend when I am going to Norfolk with Emily. I've always wanted to swim from Salthouse to Cley, but need someone to carry my clothes and walk along the beach with me in the water! (a foot escort). Haven't told her yet...
cheers! Cath

[Stuart Whitney]

Sussed this little website out now so I'm a little more up to speed! Your swimming reports are even longer than my travel ones!

Enjoy...

Stuart

[Michael Ann Mullen]

GOOD LUCK SALLY!!!
X, Michael Ann

[Trevor]

Good luck Sally.

[miriam]

thinking of you sis..x

[Sara]

Go Queen of the tide!

[Rachel]

Go Sal!! I'll be waiting, thumbs aready, for the support-message night shift! Thinking of you xx

[morag]

Hi Sally, I've really enjoyed reading the reports of your training.
Best of luck with the crossing. Morag xxx

[Your Friends in Austin, TX]

We're sending positive vibes your way today Sally! Go get 'em!!!

[Jen Alexander]

Congrats, Sally! Can't wait to hear about it! :-)

(P.S. I was stung by at least 45 jellyfish on my last swim. Thought of you!)