This is Joanne’s account of my English Channel swim; I have added my thoughts in italics.

(This was written for some triathlete friends who don't know anything
about OW swimming so some things are explained in detail not needed
for this audience). It's a bit long so the picture summary is up at
http://picasaweb.google.com/fearonj/NiallSChannelSwim#

As some of you know I have been away for the last couple of weeks to
help out with an English Channel swim attempt by Niall. Below are some
of my random thoughts about the whole thing.

Both of us have a background in endurance events, neither of us are
swimmers so the channel was a strange one. In fact Niall first learned
to swim in 2005 and me in 2006. We both started because we wanted to
take part in Ironman triathlons. Swimming the channel is very
different from other things we have done because no two crossings are
the same. The effects from the weather and the tides mean you never
know what you are going to get. Niall was self taught initially but
last year Eilis Burns very kindly (foolishly?) took him on and tried
to tidy him up a bit! In essence she rebuilt my stroke, taught me to swim and trained me for the channel all in one year. No mean feat.

We arrived in Dover on the 4th September for the first neap tide
window that started on the 5th. Even the journey there was difficult
with the drive to Rosslare then the ferry and an 8-hour drive the
other side to get to Dover. Poor Finbarr who had kindly agreed to help
crew the crossing had to put up with it all the way. We stayed in
Varne Ridge with Evelyn and David who have a long history of looking
after channel swimmers. The weather was awful for the first weekend
and we spent most of the time holed up in the mobile home. Needless to
say this didn't help the humour of the swimmer who was nervous as
hell. On Sunday I got out for a couple of hours and ran a marathon in
Margate. It was a great stress buster and I finished 3rd. The weather
started to improve on Monday but the winds were still high and very
few people were getting out to swim. We were really getting frustrated
at this point as it started to look like we might not even get out at
all. By Thursday, the weather had improved enough that we were able to
say Friday or Saturday would be good enough. Unfortunately this
coincided with the tides increasing (stronger currents) but good
weather is more important than slack tides so we were going to go for
it. This waiting was driving me up the wall. Trying to keep myself amused and trying to stay rested and well fed for the whole week is a serious job. I did take a day to run up to London on the train to see my brother and just chilled out. But on the whole everyone around me, my pilot and the entire campsite worked hard to keep me chilled.

Thursday night we got the call from our pilot (Dave Whyte – A
Legend!)  to say we would be leaving at 7am on Friday morning. We were
due to have an experienced swimmer and crew person (Imelda Lynch) on
the boat but because of the short notice she couldn't make it to Dover
on time so it was up to myself and Finbarr to crew for Niall.

Friday morning was calm and we got on the boat in a nervous silence.
Our first job of the day was to get out from Dover harbour along to
Samphire Hoe beach where we were going to start. We greased Niall up
with lots of vaseline and lanolin and dumped him off the boat to swim
to shore. 8am and we were heading for France. Water temperature was
15-16 C, much better than we've had in Ireland all summer.

He had a great start, good stroke, calm water. The first bit of
trouble we ran into was one hour into the swim when we stopped for his
first feed. Niall cannot thread water very well so stopping to drink
was a problem. He was spiting back any solid food we tried to give
him. This got even worse after 3 hours when his hamstrings started to
cramp badly whenever he moved from the front crawl to feed. Our
carefully crafted feeding plan went out the window and we started to
increase the concentration of his drinks and added electrolytes and
anti-inflammatories to help with the cramping. His stroke was still
very strong and we were making good progress at about 3.2 km/hr. I was
also very seasick and when not feeding him, I was most likely to be
found on the other side of the boat depositing the contents of my
stomach overboard. I have never had trouble with hamstrings before. So at this point I was just mentally running through all the possible causes and hoping my boat crew would fix what I needed in my next feed. They never disappointed.

The channel is 21 miles across at the shortest point but most people
swim closer to 25-30 miles with the currents. Mentally we divided the
journey up into English waters -> British shipping lanes -> separation
zone -> French shipping lanes -> French coastal waters. After 4 hours
we were well into the British shipping lanes. It was a strange thing
to watch this small blob swimming alongside huge tankers. It had been
raining lightly up to this point but then sun came out. I did at one point notice a small coastguard plane fly overhead too. Some nice Jellyfish managed to stay deep enough to be out of my way, which was a relief.

After 7 hours we were well into the separation zone and over half way
there. This is an important point of the swim. Only 30% of channel
attempts are successful but these odds decrease rapidly if you have
not made the half waypoint by 7 hours because of the tidal movements.
Cramps had improved slightly at this point, or at least he wasn't
complaining about them so much. I was slightly concerned because he
was only drinking about 300-400ml per feed. I would have been much
happier with 700ml but the good thing was it was only taking him about
1:45 to feed so we were not loosing much time from the stops. He was
grumpy as hell though. His stroke rate was a nice constant 55. A
slowing stroke rate is one indication of a tiring swimmer and not a
good sign. I was trying not to look back or look to France, as I knew that if I watched cliffs not getting closer, hour after hour I would get depressed. All the same I stole a glance or two.

At 10 hours things started to get rough. The wind picked up and it was
coming from the "wrong" direction creating lots of chop, which makes
very hard going for the swimmer. At the 11 hour feed he was worried
about the rough water. On the one hand, I wanted him to know that yes
the water was choppy and it was not his imagination playing games but
at the same time, I definitely didn't want him to know that it was so
rough that most of the other swimmers who had come out that day, had
just given up and gone home. We spent three hours in that rough bit
before the winds died down and it really sapped his strength. At least
he was now drinking for us. At 12 hours Finbarr got into the water
with him (he is allowed a buddy for an hour so long as the other
swimmer stays behind the soloist). I wanted him to have some support
for the last of the rough water. He was mentally very bad at this
stage because he was tiring and we were still in the shipping lane and
rough water. It was also starting to get dark. We changed his goggles
over and put lights on him so we could see him in the dark. It was
going to be a struggle from here in. Starting to switch off about here. Brain was slowing down and thoughts seemed to form and disappear before I grasped them.

By 14 hours we were less than a mile from shore but the tide had
turned and was pulling us up the coast towards Calais. He was jaded,
calling us names and although he never asked to get out I know he was
close to wanting to give up. His stroke had deteoriated and he was
swallowing a lot of water. Essentially he was slowly drowning. We kept
telling him how close he was to shore but because of the currents it
was so hard to get in to land. I don't think he believed us anymore. I did swallow quite a bit off salt water.

I was in bits watching this. At the time I likened it to a first time
father at the birth. You see the person you love exhausted and in
extreme pain and there is nothing you can do to make it easier. I had
to be strong for him but when he swam off from the boat I just wanted
to cry. We could see the French coast but getting into shore was a
long battle. By 15 hours he was completely spent. I'm sure simply
breathing out was giving him more forward propulsion than anything he
was doing with his arms. We likened it to a doggy paddle but in
reality it was more poodle paddle than great dane. Only guts and
determination would get him to France now. By now we were in only 2
meters of water but progress was painfully slow. The support swimmer
got back into with him for the final push to shore. It was horrendous.
It took 3 hours 42 minutes to cover less than a mile but eventually
after 15 hour 42 minutes in the water, Niall climbed up a French
beach. When you are that cold and tired, your brain function slows
completely. All he could focus on was "clear the water line". If you
don't clear the water, you are disqualified. He kept crawling up the
dunes and had to be called back repeatedly. I was bawling on the boat
and the independent observer had to come and give me a hug to stop me
crying. The final indignity is having to swim back out to the boat
when that tired and cold. The pilot had managed to manover the boat between two wrecks in less than one metre of water on an outgoing tide, but it still was 100-150m from the beach. I still am amazed that I just didn’t keel over in the surf and sleep. Crawling on all fours inland was purely automatic at this point.

Once on board, we had to get him dry and warm. Hypothermia is scary
the first time you see it. His extremities were blue, he couldn't talk
or stand and couldn't understand what we were saying to him.
Eventually he started to shiver violently and went grey, which is
actually a good sign. He was also violently sick but at that stage he
didn't need any more energy so we were happy enough to let him puke.
By the time we got back to Dover he was looking much better but still
very cold. Worryingly, when he started to talk again, one of the first
things he said was "Do you know, only 3 people have both swum the
channel and climbed Everest". I'm not laying money against that being
his next challenge!

I've never had much interest in swimming the channel. Hypothermia
doesn't appeal to me. It's a lonely day out there.  Crewing it has
completely put me off the idea. It's a terrible mental ride from
England to France. Give me hard physical pain over that kind of mental
anguish any day. Without everyone involved I could not have even made it to the mid-point. But both my Coach Eilis and Joanne deserve a lot of the credit.
My son points out that while we all look on this as a massive endeavour, it really is only 2000 lengths of a pool and the correct mindset. The easy at which children simplify things to their known knowledge base. Of course he does suffer from daddy’s inability to know when ones body has reached breaking point (stubbornness).