This week it's the bank holiday weekend, so I plan to do two swims in Dover, on Saturday and Sunday, and then to have Monday off. I want to do two swims before the Champion of Champions race on 17 June. I'm quite looking forward to it, although the forecast is for rubbish weather - wind and rain.
Before that though I have a mad week - flying up to Scotland for two nights for my niece's birthday and then getting up at 4am to come back to work on Thursday and then working until 2am to get a job finished. I've planned to stay in Dover on Saturday night but by Saturday morning I've decided not to stay over. I desperately want to sleep in my own bed. I'll do the swim on Saturday, come home and then just drive back on Sunday morning.
Saturday
Another day of waking up too early - 6.30am. I leave at 7.30 and get to Dover for just after 9am. A good drive, clear roads despite anticipation of bank holiday traffic. Last week I overtook a Porsche on the motorway, this week I overtook a Lotus! If only my swimming were like that...
The beach is busy, lots of solo swimmers and lots of relays. I get my red hat from Freda. I peer down to the bags by her chair to see if there are any thermos flasks. If there are thermos flasks then there is maxim, if there is maxim then the swim will be three hours or more. None. Hmmm. I was expecting three hours. Barrie sees what I'm doing. "There are no thermos flasks, Barrie!" "Nah, he says, that's only for three hour swims!" We have a bit of a chortle. I chat away, relaxed, to some of the swimmers. Five minutes later Barrie shouts over to me. I turn around and he's waving cups and thermos flasks at me, laughing. Oh, bugger. I'm not sure about a three hour swim. I was pretty cold last week at an hour and a half. It's going to be a bit grim.
Freda tells all the solo swimmers, 'red hat' swimmers, to do a three hour swim and come in for a feed at two hours. Okey dokey.
We go to Barrie to get greased up with vaseline. There's a massive queue. When I get to Barrie he's substituted the normal pot of vaseline with a tub of udder grease.
I've heard of udder grease being used by long distance swimmers before. Steve Price, a guy who has swam the English Channel but also is one of the only eight or so people who has successfully swam the North Channel (Ireland to Scotland), recounted a story of how he used udder grease to combat jellyfish stings in his North Channel crossing. The North Channel is notorious for the ferocity and sheer number of jellyfish. If the icy cold water on that swim (much much colder than the English Channel) doesn't get you, you have a strong chance of passing out from multiple jellyfish stings. Cows' udder grease is used by farmers to stop cows' udders from a) chafing and b) being irritated by nettle stings. Nettle stings are similar to jellyfish stings, so hence the reasoning behind using it for swimming.
OK, so Barrie greases us up with the udder grease, it seems to me to be just like a cream, not as viscous as vaseline, but I just accept it and walk down to the water with Annette and Daniel. 10.10am.
We set off for the first lap. Annette speeds off. I'm really struggling to find form for the first twenty minutes - it's been like this for the last few weeks - struggling to get a rhythm when I first get in. After that I'm fine, but it's hard to start. It's kind of windy but OK down by ferry end. About forty minutes into the swim though, my neck starts to really sting. Really sting from the rubbing of the salt water. I can feel the rubbing on my neck and where my costume sits on my back. We do one lap. Annette and Daniel are both cold but I feel fine. Daniel gets out after one lap, one hour. Annette says she's going to do one more lap then get out. At more or less an hour I swim past the beach. I really want to go in and get some vaseline to put on my neck rather than the blooming cows' udder grease. But I think - live with the pain, Sally. It's woosey going to get vaseline. There are worse things that could happen to you than a bit of rubbing. Just suck it up.
I see a yellow hatted swimmer heading for the beach. I call over to him: "When you go in can you ask Barrie to bring some vaseline down to the water for the feeds, please?" I think - I'll put some vaseline on when I go in for my feed after two hours. He nods and swims in. Ouch.
Another half an hour and I'm in agony. I try to sprint to take my mind off the pain, and it works somewhat. I do a good ten minute pace swim to the wall. Then I decide that I have to roll my costume down to try and stop the rubbing getting worse. I roll my costume down to my waist, as is quite common with some of the flatter chested female swimmers to prevent rubbing, and carry on. It's a different sensation swimming topless, and quite funny. I swim in to the beach on the dot of two hours, pull my costume up, and take a drink of maxim. It tastes good. Barrie puts vaseline all over my rubbing bits - neck, shoulders, armpits, costume line - and off I go again. I can't believe that the maxim tasted so good! My last hour swim is really enjoyable, apart from being agony. The vaseline is on, but the damage is done.
I swim down to the east ferry wall, where I meet up with Tim Cheeseman. Tim has done a successful solo swim of the English Channel, as well as the Catalina Channel, and attempted (but had to stop) a two-way attempt at the Channel. He's having another crack at the two-way this year. I'm swimming up and down the ferry wall to do some pace work. I notice - for the first time - that we're not too dissimilar pace. I decide to swim back beside him. I've no idea if this annoys him or not. But it's nice for me to have company. We swim easy back into the beach and get out dead on three hours.
I really enjoyed this swim, despite the stinging agony. The water is now at a more or less tolerable temperature level for swimming for prolonged periods for me. And I feel more focussed. Excellent.
Up the beach and to my towel. I suddenly realise that I can't move I'm in so much pain. My neck and armpits feel like someone has torched them. I just stand there wincing. I can't bear to put my clothes on. Some of the other swimmers are the same - all talking about their rubs. Carlos has a bright red patch on his neck.
I get dressed eventually, but the pain isn't going away. Bloody hell.
I drive home to London and by the time I get home my neck is a red, raw, weeping mess. My armpits aren't quite so bad, just red. I look like someone has horsewhipped me, or maybe like I've been hanged. At night I can't sleep - it's just too sore. I have to take pain killers and there is no way I can swim on Sunday at all. The wounds are basically friction burns from the salt water. I wonder why it is that the presence of salt in the water can cause such a spectacular friction burn? Three hours swimming in a pool would have no effect at all. Three hours of swimming in the sea and I've lost several layers of skin. Wow. No wonder Captain Matthew Webb immortalised the idea of Channel swimmers coating themselves in goose fat/lard. They must have been pretty ingenious in those days. Thank god for vaseline.
Freda and Barrie concede that the udder grease wasn't Channel swimming's finest hour. I joke that I'm pleased we tried it on a three hour swim not a six hour swim.
I try to swim on Monday and can only do backstroke - I still can't turn my neck. Hopefully will be OK enough by next weekend to do a good session in preparation for the Champion of Champions on June 17th.
In the meantime I have to spend some time this week chasing up details of my Scottish swim in August.
Saturday, 56F, 3 hours, udder grease!