Potentially going out tonight, starting at 2am from Abbott's Cliffs (Steve wasn't ready to take the slot). Confirmation will come around 7pm. Watch this space!

Channel mania and petrol power

As we get ever deeper into the Channel season, Channel mania is taking a stronger hold on all of us. The weekend before last down in Dover all anyone could talk about was the weather and when it would clear. On Saturday not a single boat had set out to sea on an attempt in the 2007 season. Freda told me that in 1992 no-one got across til mid-August - perish the thought. By then Channel mania would be hysteria.

Apart from obsessing about the weather, we also did some swimming. Six hours of it on Saturday 7th, to be precise. That was a bit of a shock, given I was expecting another 3 or 4 hour weekend. Silly me. When the sun is out, Freda goes loooonnnnng. To be fair, there was barely a cloud in the sky, though the wind was playing to usual form for Dover Harbour this year ie blowing what felt like a gale. Still, I definitely felt the benefit of the sunshine on my back. Oddly, I couldn't quite settle for the first two hours, but I got my rhythm back in the middle two hours. I spent the last two concentrating on bashing through the chop, as the wind had really picked up and it had got very rough. No change there then. I had a shoulder pain in the fifth hour, and had to do a couple of minutes of breastroke, but that seemed to see it off. All in all, whilst still not pleasant, it was probably the best long swim so far, and I even recovered full use of my right hand by about 4 hours (not my left though - very strange).

After I got out, I had a chat with Dave Whyte, my pilot. The upshot was: not a lot. Everything depends on the weather. If there is no backlog from the current tide, he said he would definitely look at taking myself and the number one slot across before the 20th, if we had a weather window. Weather might look like a 7 letter word to you, but I can assure you it's a 4 letter word to me. Dave said I looked in good shape (I think because I was chatting to him quite happily after only ten minutes out of the water) which was nice to hear. I'll happily take a compliment from anyone, I'm not fussy, but it does mean a little more from an experienced boat pilot.

Sunday 8th I could only swim for 3 hours because of Natalie's birthday bash (Matt's cousin, who was turning 18), but Freda said that was ok. There was less sunshine on Sunday, but also no wind at all, and ten boats out in the Channel! My 3 hours was just fine - in fact, I was flying for the first two. I had just got the blood back in my toes when it was time to get out.

It's now Monday 16th, and there have been quite a few assaults on the Channel so far. Results have been mixed. It seems Sunday 8th had very few success stories - maybe as low as 3 out of the ten. Yesterday Jim and Hoffy, both of whom I know from the beach, were in the drink. Jim got pulled after 9.5hrs with a shoulder problem, poor man. Hoffy made it in a shade under 14. Well done Hoffy! Sandy also made it last week, in a storming time of around twelve and a half hours - hurrah for Sandy! Last week it felt like being pregnant again - I remember being obsessed by everyone else's labour stories even though it had no bearing on what it would be like for me. I got quite nervous and wound up about it all.

Now, though, I am in a much more chilled frame of mind. Perhaps it is because mum, dad, bug and I are now staying in a cottage near Dover, and have all the things we need for the boat pretty much ready. We came down on Sunday - the plan was that I would swim and then meet them at the cottage. The first part of that plan went without a hitch - I did a three hour swim, which was fine (I even think it has heated up a little from last week). The second part wasn't quite so easy, given that I stopped for fuel and filled the tank of the (deisel) audi with - you guessed it - unleaded petrol. I didn't even get 400m from the garage. RAC is a wonderful invention, even if the phenomenally stupid woman on the phone swore blind that there isn't an A2 within 15 miles of Dover - it's a major route! Pay attention to the map, woman, after all, it's your job! - an assertion which was responsible for them taking ages to place me. Still, eventually a nice man in a spec-lift van (I learnt the lingo so it wasn't wasted time) delivered me to the cottage.

The aforementioned cottage is great. It's really well equipped, and Bug loves the fact that he can wander all through it since it's one level (goodbye bathroom privacy). It's only ten minutes to Dover, which makes it easy for the daily swims. I bumped into two aussies, both of which are booked on this tide (Steve is #1 with Dave Whyte, and his mate Jeff is #2 with Reg) and we swam together, and have plans to meet to do the same tomorrow. It was a great swim today - very flat with some sunshine. I feel like I'm as prepared as I could possibly be and I'm enjoying relaxing and being on holiday, so really...bring it on. Though now Dave is saying that the tide is too high, and unless the weather is PERFECT he wants to wait til the official tide. So the "bringing on" of "it" will not be for a few more days at least.

Oh, for those of you with a mechanical bent who are wondering about the damage to the car: the tank was drained and filter replaced and now it's as good as new (and valeted too!). On the other hand, my stock with my husband in car matters has taken a further dive - and I didn't think it could get any lower than after my car-losing debacle in Earl's Court...

16 days to go!

The 20th of July draws ever nearer, and still the weather resembles what you'd expect from the Highlands of Scotland in November, not the garden of England in July. There was even hail in Clapham yesterday! If the forecasters are to be believed this coming weekend will be very wet...and so will the 22-26th. Perfect. Not.

Last weekend was yet another example of dreadful weather. It was cold, it was grey, it was windy and at points it rained. (You might think we wouldn't notice that in the sea, and that's partially true - but we do notice the accompanying increased darkness and wind.) After a night in the Travel Inn with mum and Bug (there were three in the bed, and the little one said...nothing, because he doesn't talk but my god he can wriggle), on Saturday morning I approached Freda, expecting a 5 or even a 6 hour target, and felt like a kid getting out of school early when I was told 4! It was not an easy 4. It was cold and unpleasant and fairly rough, but I got there. Afterwards, we went to Hubert House and mum had a lovely time chatting to everyone whilst I stuffed my face and Bug stuffed his face and the carpet.

Sunday morning the target was 4 hours again. There was actually had a smidgen of sunshine but of course it didn't last. And it was rough. Very rough. I usually hit 6 walls before I go in for the first feed at 2 hours. This time I only managed 5 walls, and even then was 10mins late for the feed. I also got flipped onto my back a couple of times, but I managed to survive the four hours. I don't usually mind the rough weather, but by the end of a total of 8 hours at the weekend battling against the wind and waves, I did start to get a bit fed up. I mean, I really must be due some good weather by now if there is any kind of karmic balance in the world.

After the Sunday swim, I suppose some gremlins have been laid to rest, but I do still worry about the cold - these swims are far from comfortable. Freda told me not to worry, since there wouldn't be that kind of wind on the actual day, but of course it still niggles. Still, I left Dover happier than I have been after the last few weekends. We had to go to Canterbury to pick up Matt, who did the London to Canterbury Tour de France stage through the Cyclosportive race. Two punctures, a tire blow out and 6 hours 50mins later, he finished - happy enough, since it had been a good steady ride for him (apart from the 45mins of phaffing with tyres). Matt and I had our traditional debate about who was the most tired on Sunday night. Unfortunately the answer was definitely not Bug, who had slept too much in the car to have any desire to got to bed. Can you remember not wanting to go to bed? I think the definition of being a child must be not wanting to go to bed.

I digress...anyway, 16 days to go until the official start of the tide. I'm fed up with all this training now, I just want to swim to France.

The power of positive thinking

Will someone please tell the weather it's June, and therefore driving rain, howling winds and nary a ray of sunshine is highly inappropriate? To be fair, if the trade-off for the current conditions is a wonderful balmy calm July, then I'd make that deal in a heartbeat, but somehow I don't think there can be any guarantees. This is what I've been reduced to: day-dreaming of hypothetical weather trades and an obsession with the web-page for Sandettie buoy (which gives the water temperature in the Dover Straits). It's a sad state of affairs, and not much consolation to know that approximately 120 other channel aspirants are in the same state.

Last weekend was horrid weather again. The water temperature had reached 15.1 degrees, but that benefit seemed to be entirely wiped out by the windchill factor. Nonetheless, we got stuck into a 7hour swim, feeding after 2 hours and every hour thereafter (maxim, as ever, but also bananas and chocolate mini swiss rolls - the latter didn't work for me, they seemed to be difficult to eat and I was left with bits in my teeth for the next hour. I'm thinking Jaffa cakes instead...). It was never a comfortable swim. Whilst my feet came back to life around the 3hr mark, the cold was always nagging at me. I left the beach horribly aware of how much the conditions can help or hinder you.

Sunday morning weather was like Saturday's - except worse. More rain and more wind, but oddly, less chop in the water. 6 hours was the target, but I didn't come close. Despite psyching myself up til my brain was like a trailer for a Rocky film, by 3 hours I had all-over shivers and came in. Rather than try and toss me back in, Barry fed me something hot and walked me up the beach so I must have looked somewhat pitiful.

Not surprisingly, this left me with a huge confidence crash. I spent Monday in a morose state, and then emailed Freda for advice. She sent me a lovely supportive email on Tuesday morning, full of confidence in me, which has helped me a lot (interestingly, she said NOT to put on any weight - you don't want to lug anything to France you haven't trained with). I am trying to banish the negativity and think strong, positive thoughts. Here's how my current thought process is working:

- if I can swim 7hours in crappy conditions whilst cold, then on the day I must be ae to swim at least 10
- 10hours should put me within a few miles of the coast. Once it's right there in the line of sight, that must help. I know with fatigue and the current, a mile can take over an hour at that stage, but once I'm that close I think I can dig in.

And anyway, the end of July is going to be gorgeous weather, just wait and see!

Outside of swimming (not that there is much life outside of swimming right now) things are good. Matt is not too busy and Bug is on good form. He watched his daddy climb the stepladder to change a lightbulb and immediately copied him - he has no fear, I think I have it all for him - and now the stepladder is his favourite thing in the world. I can think of less terrifying objects for him to want to play with!

Three and a half weeks to go, and counting.

Counting the cost

I thought it might be an interesting/horrifying exercise to figure out how much it costs to even get to the start line to attempt a Channel crossing. Quite a few people have asked about it so it started me thinking.

On the face of it, it costs about £2,000. That's £1,750 for the boat and pilot, and the remainder for admin fees in relation to the application.  But what about the hidden costs?

From January I have been training with Wandsworth Masters, Spencer Swim Team, the Serpentine Swim Club and also swimming at my gym. Combined fees for Jan-July (inclusive) of around £700. Plus babysitting fees of £600 to allow me to get to all those sessions! Then kit and accomodation in Dover (for training and for the attempt window) is another £1,000.
All in, I reckon around £4,300, which is far less horrifying than I had feared. After all, it's less than the cost of a good bike and race wheels, which seems to be Matt's yardstick for measuring any costs (the alternative of a term's private school fees is too depressing a yardstick).

Champion of Champions

Another weekend, more open water training - but this time in the form of a race! Actually, three races: the Champion of Champions event held on Saturday 16th June in Dover Harbour consisted of a 5 mile event, a 3 mile event and a 1 mile event, with about 75mins between each in which to warm up, gobble some food and commiserate with fellow competitors about the dreadful conditions. Actually the conditions could have been worse - but more on those later.

The course for the three races was essentially a square of 1 mile, with the first leg parallel to the beach travelling east, the second aiming directly out from the beach, the third travelling west parallel to the beach and the last leg parallel to the west harbour wall, travelling towards the beach. The weather was windy, which was creating a lot of chop, particularly in the second and third legs. At the start of the five mile race, everyone quickly settled down and I soon found myself in a pack of 4 along with Katherine, whom I have swum with in Dover before and never managed to stay with over time. By the third lap it was just Katherine and I - one member had broken away ahead of us, and we had dropped the other swimmer. At times I couldn't see Katherine as she was taking a different line, and the wind and the chop was getting stronger - so much so that I wasn't convinced I was going anywhere on the last lap - but we always seemed to be neck and neck. However on the last lap, by dint of being a little luckier on the line I took and a massive kick for home I managed to come in 3 mins ahead. I was really pleased with that race - I felt strong throughout, my toes were a little cold but nothing to write home about, and my fingers had only just started to cramp. It took 2hrs 32mins, which is incredibly slow for 5 miles...unsurprisingly, the start of the second race was delayed whilst they moved the outer buoys back into position - we had effectively swum closer to 6 miles than to 5. No one complained about the delay - more time to warm up!

The three mile race was almost a repeat of the first stages of the 5-miler. Katherine and I quickly formed a pack with Jennifer and swum together. I put in a sprint for the finish along the sea wall (where the current was running really high and you felt like you were speeding along!) and managed to come in ahead of the other two. Again, I felt strong.

The one mile was a reminder of what I lack - sprint speed. Everyone went hell for leather, which is a gear I don't really have, so I got well and truly whipped on that one! However, on aggregate my time of 4 hours 7 mins brought me home as the 5th lady. I'd forgotten how good racing is as a training exercise - I worked so hard to keep up with the others around me, and my competitive spirit wouldn't let me just coast home. I'm sure that was worth at least 6 hours of trundling up and down the harbour. It also exposed me to conditions I might ordinarily find frustrating - lots of chop and wind, and currents - but because it was a race we all just knuckled down and got on with it. In addition, the water temperature was never an issue (it was 14.8 degrees) which is allowing me to believe that I may actually be able to cope when the time comes after all...

Sunday I had a lovely rest day - the last rest day on a weekend until after the attempt, which is now only 5 weeks away. I am starting to feel a bit more excited than scared, but next weekend I will have to do long back to back swims, so there is plenty of opportunity for my confidence to come crashing down again! This training lark is a real roller-coaster.

Away from swimming (yes, there is life away from swimming), Bug is teething so we are up two or three times a night, Matt has had a nasty fluey-cold-thingy and we've had the Dormouse (Paul Ambrose, Australian elite triathlete who sleeps like a baby, which is more than I can say for Bug) staying with us, so life goes on, regardless of Channel dreams!

Two steps forward, one step back

Another two weekends have passed, which of course have been filled with more cold water training. It's safe to say that whilst the camaraderie and support is fantastic on the beach in Dover, the actual swims themselves are nowhere near fun. Training for the Channel is not really blood, sweat and tears - it's far less exciting than that. It's all cramping hands, numb toes, salt-swollen mouth and bone-chilling cold for a long, long, long, long time.

Saturday 2nd June was an incredibly beautiful day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky but the water was still only 13.6 degrees Centigrade. I got to the beach expecting to be told to do 4 hours, given the most I had done up to that point was 3 hours 10 mins...but instead Freda was giving orders for a 5 hour swim. There was nothing to be done but to get on with it. With my Mum and Dad on the beach looking after Bug, I bashed up and down the harbour, swimming on my own for the most part. We fed (warm maxim and fruit juice) at 2 hours, 3 hours and 4 hours. My feet began to thaw out after 2 and a half hours which made things a little easier, but it was still an exercise in mental discipline - staying in there when all you want to do is climb out and get warm is very tough. Eventually, the watch said my time was up and I was able to climb out feeling a little cheered that I had made the target. The intention had originally been to come back on the Sunday for another session, but without anyone to drive me back, I decided that it wouldn't be the safest thing to do and gave it a miss. I swam with Wandsworth Masters instead and was pleasantly surprised that after an initial period of swimming like a brick, I returned to usual form and was cranking out a reasonable pace despite the exertions of the previous day.

During the week, I am now just ticking over - 3 sessions, with no particular concern as to how much distance I cover. It's a nice feeling to get in a pool and just enjoy swimming!

Saturday 9th June was another glorious day. With the water temperature up a little more (14.0 degrees) I entered for a 6 hour swim, which is the bare minimum one needs to complete in order to be allowed to attempt the Channel. We fed (warm maxim and bananas) at 2 hours, 3 hours and 5 hours. Again, after two and a half hours my feet started to come back to life, and actually, between 3 and 5 hours I was fairly comfortable (despite four jellyfish stings). The last hour was a bit of a struggle but I think that was because I knew I was nearly done and just wanted it to be over. I was very pleased with myself, and was definitely starting to feel that this crossing malarky might just be successful after all. So of course it all had to go wrong...

Sunday 9th June was also a lovely day but it didn't get to being nice until about 10.30am - so I spent the first 90mins of an intended 6 hour swim in fog and rain. I was feeling okay in terms of my stroke - I wasn't stiff or tired at all, but I was really feeling the cold, despite the fact that it was the same temperature as the previous day. I had had an upset tummy the previous night and early morning and food wasn't settling well with me. At the feed at 2 hours I wasn't really interested in eating much, and what I did eat just about all came back up. I was very cold and shivering in the water and it was an immense struggle to make myself go back in after the feed. Eventually I lost the battle and came in at 2 and a half hours - as before, my feet were just starting to warm up but the rest of me was breaking out into shivers. I'm not sure if the upset tummy was the culprit or if there was something else - in any case, Sunday was not my day. I have to admit to being very disappointed and worried about it: I feel like I should have completed the second 6 hours swim - after all, a lot of other people managed, so why not me? Doubts have moved well past the "creeping in" stage and are currently running rampage through my brain.

Still, progress has been made, and there is still two more weekends earmarked for back-to-back swims. I think a successful completion of long back-to-back swims will reverse the decline in confidence. Plus Freda said I shouldn't be disappointed (she said that after an upset tummy, anyone would feel the cold - an unusually sympathetic comment from the General!) so if Freda isn't concerned I probably shouldn't be either!

Next weekend is the Champion of Champions race on Saturday, which I am really looking forward to. Not that I think I will do well - I will be very low down on the pecking order - but it will make a nice change from bashing up and down from wall to wall.