How long is your English Channel swim?

The English Channel is a 350-mile stretch of the Atlantic Ocean between England and France. In France it is called La Manche, the sleeve. At it's widest, the Channel is 150 miles (240 km). Channel swimmers cross at the shortest distance, 21 miles or 19 nautical miles from Dover, England to Cape Gris-Nez, France. But 21 miles is as the crow flies! The changing tides will push and pull me along so I will swim a bit more than 21 miles. The faster I swim, the less I will be affected by the changing tides, so the shorter the distance I will swim. Swims starting in France are no longer allowed.

In swimming distances, the Channel is 38,000 yards. One of our typical Masters workouts is about 3,000 to 4,000 yards. So it's like doing 10 workouts in a row.

The Channel Tunnel, or Chunnel, is 34.4 miles and runs under the Strait of Dover from Dover to Calais. During my swim, I will mostly swim along or criss-cross over the Chunnel as the tide ebbs and flows during my swim. I've been through the Chunnel on a train to Paris and it seemed like we were in that tunnel a really long time!

Look Ma, no sharks!

I often get asked if there are sharks in the English Channel. I have assured my mother that I am not at risk of being attacked by a shark in the English Channel. My biggest marine life threat will be jelly fish.

I don't know that sharks do not exist in the waters between England and France, but according to a recent report on the International Shark File website titled "ISAF 2007 Worldwide Shark Attack Summary," attacks in the UK are pretty rare:

"As in recent years, the majority (61%: 43 attacks) of unprovoked attacks occurred in North American waters. Traditionally, half of the world's attacks occur in United States (including Hawaii) waters. The total of 50 attacks in the U.S. waters was higher than the declines recorded in 2003-2006 (ranging from 30-40), returning to 2000-2001 levels of 53 and 50, respectively. Elsewhere, attacks occurred in Australia (13 - up from 7 in 2006 but similar to 2004-2005 totals of 13 and 10), South Africa (2), and New Caledonia (2), with single incidents reported from Fiji, Ecuador, Mexico, and New Zealand."

According to ISAF, my odds are 1 in 11.5 million for being attacked by a shark, and 0 in 264.1 million for being killed by a shark. (ISAF Shark Statistics)

Sometimes I bump into a stick while I'm swimming and it startles me. To ensure that I get a good night sleep before my swim I will pass on watching JAWS.

More information about sharks, research and conservation can be found at the Florida Museum of Natural History.

I Couldn't Resist

R.I.P Fish

Fish Rescue in Walden

My friend Tommy and I were swimming in Walden after work yesterday. It a cool, cloudy day, but according to our thermometer the water had warmed a few degrees, 60F. As we swam through the first coves on the left side, we stopped to look at the fish. I tried, as I always do to catch one, but the fish got away, as they always do.

We stopped to look at some smaller fish in a shallow cove. We had just started swimming again when I noticed another fish. Something about the way he was moving didn't see right. I stopped and went back to get a closer look. Even though I couldn't see a hook or fishing line, I could tell by the way he was struggling that the line was wrapped around a branch. Tommy stopped swimming and looked back. I called, "he's stuck."

Ducking under water, I located the line while Tommy tried to untangle the fish. The line was wrapped too tight so we broke the some of the branches so we didn't have to work underwater. For the next 5 mintues, we stood in shallow water trying to free our little fish. I held the fish while Tommy tried to work the hook free from the fish's mouth. The hook was in pretty good and getting the last bit out without trying to hurt the fish anymore was hard.

When we did get our fish free, I set him underwater. At first he didn't move. The we watched as he swum along the bottom, doing corkscrews toward his injured side. He didn't seem to have much fight left.

We didn't have any pockets or any place to put the line, hook and bait that was still on the line. Tommy dug the hook into a piece of wood so it wouldn't be exposed and we threw it into the bushes. Then I checked under water and saw our fish lying in the leaves and muck on the bottom. He didn't make it after all.

Now I was cold because I didn't wear a wetsuit so we had to start swimming again so I could get warm. I felt tight from the cold while I was swimming. We didn't make any more stops until we got back to the beach.

We decided to nickname that spot Fish Hook Cove. I'm sure Thoureau had his own name for the cove across the pond from his cabin, but I will remember it as the place we freed a fish.

Marathon Swimming is a Team Sport

I've always thought of swimming as an individual sport until I started competing in long distance swimming. One of the things I enjoy about marathon swimming is the partnership between the swimmer, my support crew, the boat pilot and crew and Mother Nature.

Before a race I try to learn as much as I can by going out on the course with the pilot and crew. I look for landmarks that I will be able to see from the water and note the sight lines between them. The pilot notes the water depths in case it is too shallow for the boat to follow where I will be swimming. I know in these spots that I have to stay on course and not follow my boat. I learn which direction the tides run in relation to my swim course.

Before the swim I prepare my supplies and discuss my feeding schedule with my crew. Without getting the enough nutrition on a long swim, my crew is likely to end up with a cranky swimmer. On each swim we learn a little more about what works and what doesn't with the food and the feeding system.

I also rely on my pilot and crew for my safety. In the water, a swimmer can see very little. In areas with heavy boat traffic, the crew on the boat has to keep a lookout for other boats, jet skis, ferries and tankers that don't expect a swimmer to be in the water. Last summer I was support crew for swimmer in the Boston Harbor and I had to constantly watch for recreational boats coming from all directions. Sometimes it is necessary to keep an eye out for things that like to nibble at swimmers.

Without other swimmers to chat with at the wall, the crew is the only source of encouragement and entertainment. A smile or thumbs up are usually all I need, but there are times I need something a little stronger. Out of sight of any landmarks, I watch the activity in the boat like it was TV. I have something to look forward to when I see my crew start to prepare my next feeding. It means I get a short break, a snack and a few words with my friends. The crew is usually amused by their new pet. I've also learned not to ask how far I have swum or how much farther. The answer is always 8 miles!

Last summer I stayed with a host family for the Lake George 41K race. They opened their home to me and treated me and my crew like family. Staying with them made preparations easy and I was happy to have their help and support.

Training for marathon swims, especially something like the English Channel is time consuming and tiring. I have relied on the support of my CMSC teammates and coaches to get me through many workouts. Thanks, Scott. I will miss you!

Maybe You Should Have Your Head Examined: Lessons From Cold Water Swimming

I wrote this for NEM News, the New England Masters Swim Club Newsletter.

"Maybe you should have your head examined." My mother has said this to me on more than one occasion. I've been called crazy, nuts, and certifiable, but it was meant in a good way. At least, I think so.

While training for my English Channel swim this August I've discovered a few things. One of them is that I like cold water. I never thought this was possible nor did I inherit this trait from anyone in my family. I used think that anyone who would swim in Antarctica or the Bering Strait is some kind of super human and maybe a little crazy. Last May I went to Dover to swim with the channel swimmers who train in the Dover Harbor on weekends. I specifically chose the first weekend of the season because I figured the water would surely be warmer if my swim attempt is in August.

Clinging to our towels on the rocky beach on a gray spring day, we received our instructions from Freda, who is fondly known as the "General." The channel newbies had to swim for 20 minutes, then come back an hour later and swim for another 25 minutes. The water temperature was 54F. I remember gasping for air, but after 10 minutes when I reached the pier, I realized that I wasn.t going to die. I had finally put my face in and was swimming a normal stroke, battling through the chop. I kept looking over my shoulder at the white cliffs in the gray fog. When I got out I shivered so much that I could barely get my trousers on.

I continued my cold water swimming at Plum Island and Walden Pond. I eventually stopped shivering so much. Some days, I.d jump in and think it was pretty warm. It was probably 65. But it became harder to find people who would keep swimming with me. My cold-water swimming partner, Elaine, and I swam at Plum Island until late October. We'd get strange looks from people walking on the beach. We cherished every ray of sunlight. The plovers who had been nesting all summer were now whizzing over our heads as we swam. They were so close and so fast. We'd stop every 5 to 10 minutes to check on each other and make a decision on when it was time to get out. We stopped for ice cream on the way home until the shops closed for the season. Indian summer was over and the cold air set in. What were we to do? Keep on swimming!

We returned to the cold water on New Year.s Day for the annual L Street Brownie Polar Bear swim. The water was really, really cold and my feet really hurt. But we survived and went back the next two weekends. There was a strange thrill to it. We learned from our first plunge in 37 degree water that wading in was not a good thing to do. There is no getting used to the water; it only makes your feet hurt. The best approach is to jump right in. We usually shriek a bit and begin swimming for all we're worth. There is that half second that I think that I can turn the clock back and not get wet. Then it's over in a cold, bewildering rush.

My longest swim so far has been about 40 or 50 yards. It probably wasn't even a minute. I could only put my face under in the last few yards; my hands, feet and arms were numb. I angled toward the surf so that I could stand up or crawl if I had to. There is of course danger in this. Never swim alone. I found that getting into the sauna followed by a shower seems to work quite well to warm up. Even the mad dash from the water to the locker room helps to get your blood moving. I went out and bought neoprene boots and gloves because I was concerned about frostbite. After swimming in cold water, even in summer, it's always best to warm up by getting into warm clothes, especially hat and socks and drink warm liquids to bring your core body temperature back up. You may look a little out of place on the beach in winter clothes, but you will be warm and safe.

I checked the water temperature in the Bering Strait last week. It was only two degrees colder than it was in the Boston Harbor. Maybe that swim in Antarctica wouldn't be so
bad after all.

http://www.swimnem.org/news/Newsletter_308.pdf

Sailing, Sailing

What is the bounding main? It's reference to the ocean, the ocean blue, the seas. I don't remember how I first came across it, but I do remember using google to search for a title for this blog. It was written by Godfrey Marks and has appeared in a few movie soundtracks including Tugboat Annie Sails Again (1940) starring Ronald Reagan and Jane Wyman.

Y'heave ho! my lads, the wind blows free;
A pleasant gale is on our lee,
And now across the ocean clear,
Our gallant bark we'll bravely steer.

But ere we part from England's shore tonight,
A song we'll sing for home and beauty bright:
Then here's to the sailor, and here's to the one so true
Who will think of him upon the waters blue.

Sailing, sailing, over the bounding main,
For many a stormy wind shall blow ere Jack comes home again.
Sailing, sailing, over the bounding main,
For many a stormy wind shall blow ere Jack comes home again.

The sailor's life is bold and free;
His home is on the rolling sea,
And never heart more true or brave,
Than he who launches on the wave.

Afar he speeds in distant climes to roam;
With jocund song he rides the sparkling foam.
The tide is flowing with the gale;
Y'Heave ho! My lads, set every sail.

The harbor bar we soon shall clear,
Farewell once more to home so dear;
For when the tempest rages loud and long,
That home shall be our guiding star among.