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Dan Boyle Swims English Channel

I swam the English Channel on 9/11/06 in 13hrs 25mins.

I came to Dover early to crew for a friend swimming on the tide before mine. Erica did a successful crossing (yahoo), celebrated a bit and left for London a few days later. There was a lull between tides, as other swimmers from Erica's tide were leaving town and the new batch for the next tide hadn't arrived yet. My tide window was Thurs 9/14 - Thurs 9/21, so I was a bit surprised when my boat pilot called me at 6:30pm Sun 9/10 to ask if I was up for a bit of a swim.

Each pilot books four swimmers per neap tide. I was number three in the queue on Lance Oram's boat, the "Sea Satin". This means that I had to hope for at least three good weather days during my window to even get a shot at swimming. Since I was in Dover early, I met my pilot ahead of time and told him if he ever called me, I would say yes. So, even though my crew hadn't arrived yet, I swam three hours that morning and we were still in the middle of a strong spring tide, I said yes. I would take my shot at the English Channel on Mon 9/11.

Lance said he would arrange for a crew, so with blind faith I mixed my feed bottles, shaved, packed my bag, laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling until 11:30pm. In hindsight, this was the best way to do it. I didn't have to sit around for days wondering about the weather, worrying about conditions and if I'd done enough training. I only had a few, fast hours to be nervous, then get on with it.

Victoria Guest House owner Bill Hamblin drove me down to the boat slip at midnight. There was pilot Lance, firstmate Chris, observer Rob, crewmate Alison and crewmate Jenni. Yup, Alison "Queen of the Channel" Streeter, with 43 crossings herself, the most any person man or woman has ever done, was on my crew. And Jenni "Master Chef" Hanson, Hubert House owner, chef extraordinaire and big-time Channel supporter, was also on my crew. I was so lucky . I totally got the A Team.

It took us about 45 minutes to motor over to the jump spot, Samphire Hoe, just west of Shakespeare Beach. On the way I kitted up - Speedo, cap, goggles, ear plugs and a light stick pinned to my butt. Alison lubed me up with Channel Grease, an amazing mixture of lanolin, paraffin and other stuff that stays on you long after Vaseline and Bodyglide would wear off. Open water swimmers learned a while ago that the insulation these greases offer is insignificant, so there's no need to smear it all over your body like they did back in Gertrude Ederle's day. Rather you put it just on the chafe points. For me that's around the neck, armpits and crotch.

I jumped off the boat, swam roughly 50 meters to the English shore, cleared the water, turned around and waited for the horn. Lance sounded it at 1:23am. I walked back in and started swimming. It is actually good to start swimming in the wee hours of the morning. First, in a long swim with little to see you can look forward to the sunrise. Second, in a long swim with an unknown landing spot its better to finish in the light so you can actually see where you're going. Parts of the French coast are slippery boulders, cliffs and stone.

The conditions were good for swimming, calm wind, smooth water, warm water - 17° C (62° F). That's cold, you say? Well, like most things in life, its all relative. If you train in a 78deg pool, then its cold. If you train in the 60deg SanFran Bay, sleep without covers and take only cold showers for eight months, then its warm.

Something you don't hear too much about is the phosphorescence in the Channel, but its truly amazing, a real light show underwater. I had great conditions for it, bright moonlight, very clear water and sea-life (some kind of plankton perhaps). If you swim close to the boat you don't see it, but if you swim outside of the boat lights, a few meters ahead, behind or port / starboard, then you see it. I don't know the chemistry behind it, but when you take a stroke, those little white bubbles your arms cause in the water turn into blues, greens, teals, pinks, etc. Swimming at night in the Channel was fantastic.

About five hours into the swim the sun came up. Beautiful sunrise.

It got a little choppier in the first shipping lane. I worried it might continue to get rougher, wind picking up, weather deteriorating, but it calmed down again in the second shipping lane and was fine all the rest of the way. The sun was on my back for most of the day, only the occasional white horse (white cap).

I fed every 30 minutes all the way across. It was an all-liquid diet of CarboPro and Maxim, endurance drink mixes following a 4:1 carbohydrate:protein ratio, plus one half a banana with two Advils around the 8hr mark. Each feed was 30 seconds or less. As Freda "The General" Streeter says, "you're there to swim, not sightsee." (Freda is Alison's mother and de facto Dover harbor coach.) By my calculations I consumed roughly 10,400 calories during the swim.

I hear some of you wondering about the body's output, so ... I urinated about every 30 minutes too. I finally learned how to pee while swimming, a real talent. Mr. Hankey did not appear in this episode of South Park.

As the crow flies the Dover Straight of the English Channel is 21 miles wide at its narrowest point, which is from Shakespeare Beach to Cap Griz-Nez. You can't swim in a straight line, though. Even on the weakest of neap tides the current is too strong. It sweeps you up the Channel towards the North Sea for roughly six hours, then sweeps you down the Channel towards the Atlantic Ocean for roughly six hours. You point towards France the whole time, but your course winds up looking like a sine wave.

The hard part, of course, is the end of the swim. I've heard folks say its a one mile swim with a twenty mile warm up. Its hard not just because you're exhausted by that point, but also because you usually have to break through a flood current that's trying to sweep you up the Channel close to the French coast. There are countless stories of swimmers that get within a mile of the French coast, close enough to see it from water level, but then can't make it. The current is too strong, swimmer too cold or too exhausted, to make it to shore.

I was west of Cap Griz-Nez, but should have been southwest of it, when the tide turned. As a result I missed landing at the Cap and had to fight for an extra 2hrs to get around it and land to the east. I never looked while swimming, but towards the end, during each feed, I'd take a quick look forward. Each time I could see the lighthouse at the tip of Cap Griz-Nez; but each time I was the same distance away from it, just seeing it from a different angle. Three feeds went by like this. It was very frustrating, swimming hard and making no forward progress. I was doing a semi-circle around the Cap, but not any closer to land. At one point I thought I'd missed it, my chance to land, and was getting swept up the Channel. I'd lost an entire year of training in just a few minutes. What would I tell everyone? Could I stay in another six hours until the tide changed again? But I kept swimming and on one of my feeds Lance finally said we'd made it around the Cap just enough to break through the 4 knot current. I swam as hard as I could. The boat stopped about 300 meters off shore because it got too shallow. Everyone on board the boat screamed for me to sprint.

The water was murky along the French coast, so I couldn't see the bottom. The first I knew I'd actually made it was when my left hand scraped the sandy bottom. I didn't take another stroke. I stood up immediately, wobbled a bit, found my footing, walked, cleared the water, turned around and raised my arms. Lance sounded the boat horn. I made it! Relieved, exhausted, happy, sore, excited, proud, tired. I looked at my watch for the first time since the jump.

One of the first stories I ever heard about the Channel was of a Brit who swam it, climbed out on the French beach and a few French people came up to greet him. They said, "Did you just swim the English Channel?" and the Brit replied, "Absolutely!" I was hoping there'd be some folks around ("bonjour"), but the beach was isolated and almost empty. There were a few people several hundred meters away, and they looked curious, but did not come towards me. I was in no mood to walk around either. So, I just bent down, picked up a few rocks, put them in my suit and swam back to the boat.

I will never, ever forget The Queen of the Channel pulling me onto the boat and saying, "Welcome to the club." It will forever be one of my best memories. I swam the English Channel on 9/11/06 in 13hrs 25mins.