Monday, Sept. 28th at 5am I started my swim across the English Channel. Wearing a Speedo, goggles, 2 jars of Vaseline, and a smile, I dove into the 62-degree salt waters and swam to Shakespeare Beach just south of Dover Harbor. Shakespeare Beach is where most EC swim attempts start, but you have to be taken there by your support boat. Mine was carrying the Captain, Andy, an assistant crew member, Gary, an Observer, Steve, my wife Jennifer, my mother Mary, father Don, and ET coach Craig. Swimming up to the beach from the boat was the scariest part! It was pitch black outside and even on the sunniest of days, you can't see your hands in the waters of the EC. I put a flashing bike light on my goggle strap and on the back of my Speedo so the boat could see me and not run me over. It took me about 15 minutes to swim to shore. Once there I raised my hands above my head and the boat sounded the start horn. I dove back in, feeling much colder this time as I had been standing in the 55 degree air for a few minutes, and started a swim that I thought would take somewhere around 12 to 14 hours. The tide was still coming in, so I felt like I was moving my arms but not going anywhere.
I must have been about 500 yards off the coast when I kicked a fish. This was very startling because it felt like I kicked a human in the stomach, so I knew it was a big fish. This made me pick up the pace a little. The first few hours after this were pretty uneventful. It was dark and I just kept putting one arm in front of the other. I lost one of my flashing lights about an hour in and my boat pilot, Andy, made me stop to put a new one on. I think I was pissed about this for about an hour and this was all I thought about, since I had had that light for well over 10 years. This is the kind of craziness you fixate on when you have this type of sensory deprivation. You can't see ANYTHING, you hear only the water rushing past your ears, you can't smell, and your brain starts systematically shutting down your body because of the cold. It is one of the craziest experiences.
I was feeding every 30 minutes at this point, so I would stop for about 15 seconds and drink a carb/protein/water mix. My goal was to take in around 350 calories per hour in two feedings equaling less than 15 seconds each. This worked out well for the first few hours. Although it didn't feel like I was going anywhere, I was keeping pace at 2 miles per hour. As the sun came up, I was starting to settle in. I had given up on my light and my brain had all but shut down. I really don't remember much else, until I started to feel a little euphoric. This was about 4 hours into the swim. It felt like I had the perfect buzz until I started realizing I was losing feeling in the lower half of my body. It started with my feet and slowly worked its way to my waist over the next two hours. At this point, I was not able to kick, so Craig put on a wetsuit and got in to pace me. He, Jen, and Andy had been asking me how I was feeling for the last two feedings and my only response had been, "Euphoric." As I learned later, Andy did not know what euphoric meant. This was a good thing, because he was looking for a reason to pull me out of the water at this point. He and the Observer (Steve) thought I was hypothermic and wanted me out. Due to some fast talking/ thinking by Craig and Jen, they convinced him to let me stay in. At this point, I mentally thought I was done. When Craig was getting out of the water (rules say someone can swim with you for only an hour), I told him to watch me and keep me from drowning. He just looked back with a blank stare and got out of the water and I kept swimming. Once the hypothermia made it to my stomach, I knew I was done.
This was about 6 hours into the swim, so I stopped to breast stroke for a minute and tried to pee. This turned out to be a lifesaver. You can't imagine how hard it is to pee with 6 people staring at you, in 62-degree water, after you have been beaten up by 2 and 3-foot waves and currents for 6 hours. Finally, I finished up and started feeling better. I am not sure how this helped but this and a little chocolate bar made a huge difference. Over the next hour I slowly got back to feeling normal and picked up the pace.
At this point the boat crew was settling in for an 18 plus hour swim. I had no sense of time, because no one told me how long I had been in the water and I did not have a watch on. I was just there to keep putting one hand in front of the other. The mental strategy is to swim feeding to feeding and this is what I did. My pace picked back up to the 2 mile per hour range as I entered the second shipping lane. The EC is divided into four parts, infield, shipping lane one, shipping lane two, and outfield. My goal was to make it through the second shipping lane with 60 percent energy, because the currents in the outfield are the worst and can turn a 22 mile swim into a 28 miler in no time.
I was already beaten down pretty good from the hypothermia and the current swimming out. My right shoulder was gone and I could barely get my hand clear of the water with each stroke. By this time I was in the middle of the second shipping lane and trying to dodge the 500 plus super-tankers that move through there every day. This was proving to be harder than I thought. At some point I finally asked the boat where I was. The response was, "You have 6 more miles in the shipping lane, then around another 4 through the outfield." The problem was that line of super-tankers I had to swim through and if I did not swim faster the swim would be over. So Andy and Craig started shouting at me and pushing me pretty hard. I just tried to increase my stroke rate, but this was difficult because I was only getting power out of my left arm. I would push hard for 10 minutes then slow down for 5 minutes, then start all over. They took some amazing pictures of me swimming with a giant super-tanker in the background. These ships are amazingly large.
I finally made it through the second shipping lane and I could see the French coast. This turned out to be a bad thing, because I would look at the same tower on the French coast for the next three hours. The tide was coming out and the winds were pushing the boat and me north. This is a little abnormal, because the wind normally pushes south. Andy was pushing me hard to swim faster and stay with the boat, but this was next to impossible. The currents and winds were blowing me everywhere and both my shoulders were pretty much gone at this point. Here again, one hand in front of the other and trying to stay thinking about my breathing. It was getting dark when I noticed the boat crew getting the smaller boat ready to follow me to the shore, so I knew the end was near. I started getting pretty excited and the swimming started to feel easier, but the current and winds were worse.
About an hour later, I literally swam onto the beach. My hand hit ground and it was quite possibly the best feeling on earth, even though I couldn't see the ground. I stood up for about 3 seconds and immediately fell on my face. The legs do forget how to work after that much swimming. I made it onto my hands and knees and Craig came along to help me to shore and dodge the jellyfish that were the size of basketballs.
13 hours and 35 minutes, hypothermia, jellyfish stings, and two beaten up shoulders later, I was in France. I stood on the beach for about 3 minutes and then Craig carried me back to the little boat. We had to get back to the boat as quickly as possible, because the current was carrying everything into some shipping wreckage. This is about the last thing I remember. I was beyond cold and I think I blacked out. The next thing I remember is the boat pulling up to harbor back at Dover nearly 2 hours later, and I was dressed in about 4 layers of clothing.
Still not being able to walk, the crew, along with my parents, Jen, and Craig, helped me off the boat and into the car. Steve, my observer, told me it was one of the most uncertain swims he had witnessed. I told him it wasn't uncertain in my mind. I told him I knew there were only two outcomes: me setting foot on the beach of France, or him pulling me out of the water unconscious. He smiled and congratulated me on being one of few that makes it across. Then I went in search of food.
The experience up to and day of was incredible. I couldn't have made it across if it had not been for the support of my parents who made the trip on the boat, my wife Jennifer, and Coach Craig. After a year of focusing on learning to swim and leaving the bike, I am ready for cross racing and miss my bike more than I thought I would.
Wow!! HUGE congrats to Todd on finishing one of the most amazing experiences in the world - swimming the English Channel. Special thanks go out to Todd's great support crew including ET coach Craig Strong. What a team effort!! - Coach Joe
