I asked how long to go and John said, ‘Less than two miles.’
I had asked the same question an hour and a half earlier and it had been just over two miles, but somehow hearing that it was just less than this seemed so much better. We appeared to turn more with the current and the land was now in front of me instead of to the east. There wasn’t much of a break following the killer chop that I had just swum through and the rolling waves that now hurled themselves towards me. I thought, ‘At least I can breathe easier through this.’ Each wave took approximately five seconds to come over the top of me. I tried to bodysurf as one after another rolled up and over.
After thirty minutes it was obvious that I didn’t appear to be getting any closer. I thought, ‘This two miles is taking a long time!’ Another thirty minutes went by and I was starting to get concerned. It was becoming dark so I shouted to the boat in a frustrated voice, ‘What is happening?’
John replied, ‘The tide is pushing you back – just ease off until it turns.’
For as long as I had known John he had always been completely honest. I would have preferred a more positive response but at least I knew where I stood. I continued on, with the waves steamrolling over me. I now knew that gliding on the waves was of no benefit whatsoever; my only option was to get back into swimming normally. I couldn’t believe it – I had thought the waves would just take me in. I was once again annoyed with the ocean, but I had to keep pushing on.
We had another safety boat throughout the swim which was consistently 100 yards ahead. Its main purpose was to avoid fishing nets, the reason being that these nets cost a lot of money, and for many people in this area, fishing is the main source of income. Having another vessel up ahead allowed the main safety boat next to me to focus on guiding me across. At this point we were still approximately two miles from finishing, so they made their way to my left side, around 15 metres away.
At that moment, for some reason, I thought about my electronic shark unit not working and happened to look down into the deep, wondering if there was anything down there. This was out of character for me, as I had become so used to switching off any negatives and not focusing on ‘what lies beneath’. Just as I did that, I saw a large shadow swim underneath me. I was convinced it was a shark. I started shouting at the boat, ‘Come closer – I’ve just seen a shark!’ I had mentioned a previous shark sighting five hours into the swim and I reminded myself of Hawaii and that this was also the Pacific Ocean, with similar potential shark dangers.
The boat was swaying back and forth; no one looked safe on there. I glanced over in between each swim stroke, watching them clutching the sides for fear of falling in. I started to think that maybe I was better off in the water! I sprinted to come up by the side of the boat, but it seemed to be getting further away. I now felt a little nervous and exposed, as the darkness had set in and I was still thinking about what I had seen. Eventually I managed to make it close enough.
‘Did you not hear me shouting I had a shark swim near me?’
‘We couldn’t get near you,’ Gemma said. ‘The boat is swaying all over the place and it was too dangerous.’
A decision was made to put light sticks on the back of my goggles so that they could see me. I was handed a new pair of goggles with the lights attached. After a further minute or two, I felt something brush over my face. I thought I must have swum into a jellyfish or something. I then realised the goggles had some string attached and this was dangling over the top of my head onto my face. It was quite irritating, but I didn’t have the energy to adjust it so I kept swimming with it brushing over my face and hampering my view. The upshot was that it distracted me from thinking about the shark.
I had been told an hour ago that the lighthouse was the finish and that’s where we were aiming for. It now seemed so close, but in open water distance can be deceiving, as I knew all too well. When I swam the English Channel, France looked so close at one point when it was actually five hours away. The pilot had already said to John in Japanese that he was concerned about the suffering I had endured on the swim and how much more I could take. John thought it sounded as if he was considering pulling me out, so politely just walked away from the conversation so as not to debate it with him.
Another thirty minutes went by. I had another feed, but at this point I was taking very little fluid in so once again it didn’t serve much purpose apart from allowing my crew to check on me and keep my spirits up.
The support crew are pivotal in a marathon swimmer’s success – what they say and do can be the difference between completing a swim or not. They not only decide what food and drink to give you to keep your energy levels up, but they are also your eyes to watch for any marine life or obstacles that you want to avoid. In addition, they ensure you keep an efficient swimming line so you don’t waste any unnecessary energy and are kept safe. They also act as your motivators when times get tough and they can react to any situation to support you. It takes a certain type of character to be effective as support crew; I recommend someone with a calm head, positive in nature and whom you fully trust to make the right decision when required – to pull you out, if necessary. Their role should not be underestimated.
I had now swum fifteen hours and gone through so many emotions, from believing it wasn’t going to happen to being sure it was, and then convinced it wasn’t again. I tried to stay calm. I knew we were close to finishing, although the last two and a half hours had shown that that meant nothing.
Another twenty minutes went by and I was getting really fed up now, cursing and shouting at the ocean in my mind: ‘Haven’t you done enough to me? You’ve proven how hard you are to cross. I will stay out here all week, if I have to, so you may as well let me in!’ My relationship with the ocean had been challenged during the previous swims and I thought the Molokai Strait had thrown everything possible at me. But this was as bad as anything I had encountered previously; the conditions had been relentless and unforgiving.
After my rant, the pilot suddenly appeared at the edge of the boat and gave a flat hand signal. John and Gemma then shouted, ‘No current!’
I shouted back, ‘How long to go?’
John responded, ‘Seven hundred metres.’
I was still suspicious – the ocean hadn’t behaved itself today – but I wasn’t going to hang around. I suddenly sprang into life, gritting my teeth, and I swam like my life depended on it, counting sixty strokes, then another sixty, then another sixty. I kept saying in my mind, ‘Don’t you dare change, current – don’t you dare!’
Suddenly I could see the bright light off the rocks where the lighthouse was. It was just twenty metres away. I still didn’t trust the current, so I continued to power on with everything I had. I saw rocks in front of me and wasn’t sure whether I should climb on them as there was another cluster to the side of me. I went to the nearest one and quickly scampered out to clear the water for fear the current might change. I put my arms in the air, which was a task in itself as they felt so heavy and knowing I had done it had made my body go limp.
I could barely believe it. With such little training and after believing it was impossible to sprint at four hours after being so sick, I had managed to find a way when there appeared to be none.
I was so exhausted and sore that it was a struggle to swim back to the boat. Now the adrenaline was gone, swimming front crawl seemed impossible. I did a very gentle breaststroke back to the boat, as I had after the English Channel. I climbed aboard and gave Gemma and John a hug. This swim had taken me to hell and back. It took me fifteen hours thirty-one minutes of constant battling, but I had managed to park the emotional baggage I had been carrying in my mind throughout this challenge and complete the swim against all the odds.
20
BOOIE – MY BEST FRIEND AND SWIMMING SOULMATE
I was now one step closer to my ultimate goal of completing the Ocean’s Seven and the feeling of euphoria was once again something that couldn’t be surpassed in my everyday life.
The journey back to base took just under three hours. We sat at the back of the boat looking up at the stars and just taking in everything that had just happened as the ocean sprayed our faces. Gemma caught sight of not one but two shooting stars, which she thought was some kind of sign. When we arrived back to the hotel, they had very kindly laid out a banquet in my room. I was really hungry and tried to eat a spoonful of rice, but soon realised my mouth was so swollen and sore with ulcers that it hurt to swallow. I had to leave it again.
I had a shower and went to bed. I managed to sleep until around 4 a.m. before I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep due to the soreness in my shoulders. The muscular pain I was experiencing was actually a lot less than I had after previous long-distance swims. I could really feel the difference now that I was swimming more efficiently, but this swim had been so physically demanding, and had come so soon after an operation, that it had taken a lot out of me. I decided to have a walk in the lobby; I felt quite awake, which was probably a combination of adrenaline and jet lag, as I had only left the UK two days ago.
As I had swum early in the trip again, it meant we had ten days to explore Japan. That day I met up with Mika to thank her for all of her support. She had played a crucial role in communicating back to me the commands of the Japanese-speaking pilot, Captain Mizushima. The same day I also met a Guatemalan swimmer called Yesenia and her sister. Yesenia was attempting to swim the strait that evening. I asked her if she had all the energy drinks and equipment she needed.
She said ‘I haven’t got any drinks – I will go to the shop.’
I responded, ‘There aren’t any shops for miles. We are in the middle of nowhere. I have some, if you want it?’
As luck would have it, my drink was the same one she used in training. You should never try a drink or food for the first time on a channel swim – it’s important you train with it first. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t have any with her but I was happy to help.
I also asked if she had any light sticks, which she didn’t. Fortunately I had some left. Her sister said jokingly, ‘You have given her all the presents and not given me anything!’ I laughed and gave her a big bar of chocolate. The ladies were very funny and I was glad I could help out. I gave them both a hug and wished Yesenia all the best. I heard a couple of days later that unfortunately she didn’t complete the swim due to the currents being very strong, but she put in a great effort.
John, Gemma and I had a long drive back towards John’s house and our plan was to stop around halfway and stay at a hotel on route. We went to dinner that night at a traditional Japanese restaurant that served what the locals call yakiniku, which involved cooking your own raw meat and vegetables on hot plates. We had our own private booth and every time you required more food, you rang a buzzer and the waiter would come instantly. It was delicious and a real highlight.
The next day John drove all day and we finally arrived at his house around teatime. I Skyped my parents when we arrived to tell them about the swim. They were of course really excited for me that I had completed another one of the Ocean’s Seven.
I asked how the dogs were. My two dogs, Booie, a Newfoundland, and Lady, a golden retriever, were staying at a friend of the family’s. My mum said, ‘Yeah, they are fine’, but it was too sharp a response and she didn’t seem comfortable with the question, struggling to look at me.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘Nothing to worry about.’
I know my mum – she can’t lie, I knew something was wrong.
‘Is it Booie?’ I asked. She was the oldest. I had always loved all my animals equally over the years and worried about them when I went away. One of my cats, Tinky, had died when I was in Hawaii, which upset me so much that I went from elation to devastation the day after the swim, when I found out. I had the strongest bond with Booie out of all of them, and my mum confirmed my worst fear that she had passed away the day I had arrived in Japan. It hurts me now to talk about her in the past tense.
Booie was a major part of my life; she loved the water even more than I did. Newfoundlands are an old breed from Canada. Previously known as Viking bear dogs, they were used in the 1800s to pull boats ashore. They have a natural affinity with swimming and water rescue. They have webbed feet and actually swim breaststroke. Ever since she had been a pup, if there was any sign of water Booie would charge for it. To her it was the best thing on earth and to see the joy on her face was truly heart-warming. Only two days after swimming the English Channel I took her for a walk at a park. We reached a lake and I knew she would make a dash for it. I had her on the lead and tried to hold her back – well, I didn’t try that hard, to be honest, as I loved to see her paddle; it made her so happy. She dived straight in and I realised she couldn’t get out unless she swam across the lake, which was at least 30 metres long. I didn’t know whether she was capable of that; up until that point she had only done short swims. I started to panic a little so I jumped in with her and tried to lift her out of the water, but at sixty kilos this was easier said than done.
Booie was very happy being in the lake and made no attempt to get out. I seemed to be making things worse by holding her lead, and I soon realised that I’d do better to take her lead off and try swimming her across. I grabbed the lead with one arm and swam with the other, trying to help her in case she panicked or went under. After less than 5 metres of swimming with her, my feet sank into the mud. It felt like it was trying to suck me under; I only just had my head above water. I thought, ‘I’m the one who’s going under here!’ I could just see the headlines: MAN SWIMS CHANNEL AND THEN DROWNS IN SMALL LAKE. I had no choice but to hold on to her and try to get my legs up before I was submerged. Booie gladly took on her role as lifesaver – what she was born to do. She pulled me in with the biggest smile on her face and when I climbed out, she turned back as if to say, ‘Can we do it again, Dad?’ I was so relieved she was OK, and she had really enjoyed herself.
A couple of years later, I joined a Newfoundland Club where they trained the dogs to do water rescue tests. I wasn’t sure how Booie would react the first time. One of the members took her into the water and tested her retrieving skills. He first threw a ball and she brought it back, and he then tried a life ring – and again she retrieved it. I went out 25 metres and she swam out to me, and as she got closer she turned around as if expecting me to hold on to her, which I did around her rump and she pulled me back in. I then went out on a RIB with two other people and called her. It took another two people to hold her back – she was so desperate to come out to me. I dangled a piece of rope in the water at the front of the boat and to my amazement she swam out, grabbed the robe without any guidance and pulled us all in to shore. She was a natural and it was something quite remarkable to see. I hadn’t taught her anything – her instincts led the way. There were a number of elements to each test, including retrieving a safety object like a life ring or rope, rescuing a person in the water from 25 metres away, swimming alongside someone for 25 metres without trying to jump on them, pulling a RIB back with people in it and dunking her head underwater to bring up a submerged rope.
We did six different tests together and she passed them all, but the most important thing is that she loved doing them and being in the water with me, as I did with her. At times, when I was out in a channel swim, thinking about Booie would help me focus and block out the negatives and I would visualise her swimming alongside me, smiling away, helping to distract my mind and drive me on. Even after she had gone, I believe I saw her face in the water a couple of times when I was training.
Booie was a remarkable dog. We formed a bond which cannot be replaced. I would give up every swim I’ve done in order to have her back. Swimming with her was the most enjoyment I’ve had in the water; I will forever miss my swimming soulmate and she will never be forgotten. I’m sure she was with me on my swims, willing me across.
The rest of the time in Japan was underst
andably sad. It is a beautiful place, but I just wanted to be home. Life is strange, sometimes, how you can go from such a high to an incredible low.
After ten days of tripping around, we arrived home and I went back to work a couple of days later. I was still very down about losing Booie and work was the last place I wanted to be.
21
TAKING THE PLUNGE!
The swims were like escapism for me; they made me feel different and separated me from the crowd. The issue I had was that, without the swimming, I wasn’t at peace with myself. I was now only two swims away from my ultimate goal and my priorities had changed. I knew I mustn’t take my job for granted – without it I couldn’t afford my swims – so it was crucial that I didn’t allow my work to slip. I would have to carry on fitting my training in around the job, as I had done for the past few years, to ensure I was in good shape for the last two swims.
I’m sure to most people in the office the thought of swimming the Ocean’s Seven didn’t have any real purpose; that is the beauty of people – we are all different. I just knew I had to complete it in order to be happy. It is hard to put into words; I just felt that this was part of my life’s script and there was some kind of unexplained force driving me on. I had to make it happen; I didn’t have a choice.
I felt I needed to make a change in my working life; it was no good going back to work after a swim and feeling that I didn’t belong. I had been talking to one of my friends, another Chris, who ran a local triathlon club, about the possibility of doing a swim camp at Colwick, Nottingham. This would be to teach swimmers my stroke technique as it was working really well for me despite the injuries. I knew I had something special, I had found a way to improve on my times and swim with more power and less effort, avoiding irritating the shoulder. I was confident others would take to it too so I set up two open-water swim training camps, which also covered psychology of open-water swimming.
Man vs Ocean - One Man's Journey to Swim The World's Toughest Oceans Page 16