Man vs Ocean - One Man's Journey to Swim The World's Toughest Oceans

by Walker, Adam;

  Both camps had strong reviews and I loved it, starting to believe that this could be the job I was destined for. At university my friend Chris Rowley had told me I should become a teacher as I had a lot of patience and passion, and that had always stuck in my mind. I did some part-time swim teaching, which I loved to do, but I knew I couldn’t live on the amount I was paid. People don’t become swim coaches for the money, that’s for sure, but the satisfaction you gain from teaching a life skill is a huge buzz and something I’ve always been very passionate about.

  22

  C-O-L-D WATER – NOT AS WARM AS WE WOULD LIKE!

  My next swim, the Cook Strait in New Zealand, was due to take place sometime in 2015. I wanted to bring the date forward to early 2014 so that I could do the last one, from Ireland to Scotland, in August 2014. I contacted the organiser of the Cook Strait swims, a guy called Phil Rush, who was a very accomplished open-water swimmer himself. There was no way he was moving on the date. I tried bribing him with drinks as a joke, but I was stuck with 2015.

  My only hope was to try to swap the date with Yesenia, whom I had met in Japan, as she too was aiming to swim the Ocean’s Seven. As she didn’t make the Japan swim, I politely asked if she didn’t mind switching the dates with me and taking my slot in 2015 instead. She still had a number of swims left to complete the Ocean’s Seven and I promised to help organise her Molokai Strait swim. She agreed and I was given the week commencing 21 April 2014. This was the latest possible date I’d be able to swim the Cook Strait as the temperatures drop to single figures in May. I knew no one had ever swum the Cook Strait as late as this, which gave me added pressure. I had hoped for an early date in January, when the temperature would be around 3 degrees warmer. I contacted Phil again to see if this was possible, and he replied, ‘I would quit whilst I was ahead, if I were you.’ Meaning I was lucky enough to have swapped and I shouldn’t push my luck. I thought, ‘Fair enough’ – at least it would be a good test before the Ireland to Scotland swim, which was notoriously known to be the coldest of the seven.

  I knew I had to train in colder water for the Cook Strait, as it could be as low as 14 degrees. As the temperature in the UK drops considerably once it gets to mid-October, my plan was to swim throughout the winter in water that would be cooler than the Cook Strait.

  I swam each week in December, when the temperature had dropped to single figures. I remember arriving at my local lake in Lincoln after a few weeks of just swimming in the pool. There was a small group of ten to twelve people and when I turned up they said, ‘It’s Ocean’s Seven swimmer Adam – he will swim all day in this!’

  The temperature was 4.7 degrees centigrade – that’s 25 degrees colder than a swimming pool! I had swum the year before in 5 degrees just once, and that was about all the single-figure swimming I had done. When it’s this cold, under 5 degrees, it’s called ice swimming. It is important at this temperature that the swim is well supervised, as you are at greater risk of hypothermia from the extreme cold.

  I didn’t know how my body would cope in the lake and I thought I had better fake this and not show weakness. There were some seasoned ice swimmers out there and as we were swimming around no one was talking, there was silence. Some were doing head-up breaststroke, not willing to put their faces in the water, and others head-up front crawl. My swim tactics were to convince myself I was enjoying it. As I swam past I chanted, ‘Feeling hot, hot, hot!’ After two or three times, the cold started to affect my speech and it sounded more like ‘Fweeling huwott, ott, ott!’

  There was method to my madness, though – I wasn’t doing it to annoy the others. This method had worked when I was training for the English Channel; whilst I was saying positive words like ‘hot’ I couldn’t be thinking I was cold. Everyone did one lap, which was around 250 metres, and I thought I would push myself for another. As I swam around the second time, I realised I was the only one left in the water. The problem now was that I had no one to sing and joke with and so my cold-water diversion tactics didn’t feel as effective.

  The others were changed and as I stepped out of the water I was helped by one of the guys I knew. I asked if he could help prop me up as I felt a little dizzy. The rest of the swimmers were dry and fully clothed and started chanting back, ‘You’re not singing any more, you’re not singing any more!’ It made me laugh. I hadn’t faked it well enough and they were right: I wasn’t singing any more! I looked like a bright pink lobster where the supply of blood to the skin had increased to try and keep the body temperature constant.

  There are believed to be a number of health benefits from swimming in cold water. Scientists have found that it increases white blood cell counts and boosts the immune system, which can help prevent you from getting colds. It increases blood flow and can help with circulation and flushing out the system. It also helps with weight loss, as you burn more calories in cold water than you do in warmer water, as the body is having to work harder. In addition it’s good for stress and depression as it gives you a natural high. There are, though, obvious hypothermia risks associated with swimming in very cold water, which I know all too well. This is why only people with plenty of experience, who have built up to it through lots of small dips, can be confident and know their limits.

  Every year there are Boxing Day swims up and down the country, which are designed to be fun, people often wearing Santa hats over their swim hats. Adults of all shapes and sizes challenge themselves to a small swim in icy temperatures in nothing but swimming trunks, hat and goggles. There is always a lot of safety on standby to ensure there are no problems. This same year I attended a Boxing Day swim at the Lincoln lake, with over a hundred people turning up for a dip. The choice was a 175-metre loop or, for the more experienced swimmer, 450 metres. There were a few frozen bodies when people got out but no major issues, thankfully.

  The cold-water training seemed to really help: when it started to warm up in March it was 9 degrees (the temperature I had nearly died in when I first started) and I swam for around two hours without a wetsuit and was pretty comfortable. I thought how things had changed; I now saw the benefit of acclimatisation and all those dips I had taken over the years, as well as the mental strength that comes with experience as it is no longer a shock to the system – the body and brain don’t go into panic mode. I do believe weight also helps by providing an insulated layer to protect your major organs from the cold, which is why seals have blubber, but it isn’t the major factor, as I have proved.

  It was April before I knew it. This time I didn’t have the issue of trying to raise the money as I had carried out a motivational talk to a company called TSYS (Total System Services) and the director, Kelley Knutson, very kindly agreed to sponsor me, which meant I could focus my full attention on training and it was one less thing to sort out. I tried everything to keep the costs down as I wanted to ensure something was left over for my final swim from Ireland to Scotland.

  I was advised to fly out to New Zealand a week early in order to get over the jet lag. I knew I had to attempt the swim before the end of April to have any chance. I gave myself a few days before the start of the tide, having learned my lesson from Hawaii and Japan, where I had pretty much arrived and then done the swims after long flights.

  23

  SWIM #6 COOK STRAIT – A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS

  The flight to New Zealand was twenty-five hours long and though I considered breaking it up, I thought ultimately it would be best just to get there and settle into the time difference as New Zealand evening would be morning in the UK. We arrived in Wellington and my priority was to rest, which I’m not very good at doing. The prospect of a big swim like this never leaves your mind fully. I could park it at the back of my mind but it was important to stay focused and remember that, while I was over there, I had a job to do and success was the only option.

  The hotel in Wellington was called At Home and I had found it on the internet. The hosts, Dwayne and Hayley, were two of the nicest people I could have wis
hed to meet; nothing was too much trouble. Gemma was with me and we did feel at home being there – it was a great place to relax. We explored our surroundings and I was anxious to meet up with Phil to understand our chances of going. He had explained to me that there were very few swims possible each year due to the high winds and rough conditions you can encounter on the Cook Strait. I knew I may have to go on a fifty-fifty weather decision, but I was used to that from some of the other swims.

  The first day, I did an easy thirty-five-minute training session and we found a nice swim spot. The sea was rough and windy, as predicted, and I was more conscious of the sea temperature than I had been since the English Channel. I gradually walked in and it didn’t feel warm, but I told myself, ‘This is manageable.’ As I swam out, I started to think about sharks, for some reason. I didn’t realise at the time that the Strait is known for having migrating great white sharks passing through. As I looked down into the murky water, I kept seeing the water cut up underneath me, but I put it down to my imagination and just swam on. The media was notified of my swim and they came to do an interview a couple of days after we arrived. They wanted to ask Phil about the potential challenge I would be facing.

  It was 20 April and the best possible day to go would be the 22nd, four days after my arrival. There was no guarantee, though, as there had been a cyclone that had caused horrendous winds and stormy weather in recent weeks, so the ocean was still trying to recover. I hoped and prayed we could go. I didn’t want to have to find the airfare to return and I would have to wait another year to complete the Ocean’s Seven, which would be very disappointing.

  Phil was planning to ring me on the afternoon of 21 April. It is so hard waiting to find out if you are going or not. The devil on my shoulder is always trying to say, ‘If the weather is bad you have a way out’, and the angel is saying, ‘It’s just another swim – let’s go and get it done!’ Phil rang as promised and confirmed that we would be going; there was a sense of excitement among the nerves that I had now experienced a number of times.

  Phil had told me about there being three currents, and how it can be impossible to cross if the currents go against you. I chose to ignore this, playing it down in my mind and telling myself it would be a short, straightforward swim. Once again I felt I was due for a bit of good luck, especially after everything that had happened on the other swims up to this point – however, I had thought that in Japan too!

  Gemma and I were due to meet Phil and the crew at the harbour for 6.30 a.m. It was around twenty-five minutes away and we left the hotel around 6. I decided to drive as I thought it would keep my mind occupied. We arrived at 6.20 a.m. in darkness and were ready to go. We packed everything we needed for the swim on board the boat and made our way out to the start point. Warm clothes, spare goggles, swim shorts, food and drink.

  I was now becoming really sick of powdered carbohydrate drinks; I couldn’t get used to them in training. My stomach wasn’t coping with regularly consuming 350–400 millilitres every half hour or hour, and would reject it. On the channel swims themselves, it’s hard to determine what caused me to be so sick; it could have been motion sickness, physical exertion, the drink or a combination of all three – I can’t say for sure. During the Gibraltar Strait swim, I had taken regular carbohydrate powder drinks and been fine, with reasonable sea conditions. On the Catalina Island swim, however, I had experienced good sea conditions and yet been extremely sick. The sickness could have been triggered by being disorientated at swimming in darkness at the start, or by swallowing some water.

  Gemma had made the suggestion of preparing a homemade soup of carrots, parsnips, tomatoes, onion and chickpeas, all blended up into a baby-food type of consistency. The benefit of making the soup yourself is that you can control what goes in, so it still has carbohydrates, albeit not as much as the powder. (I questioned whether I needed such a dosage of carbohydrates anyway, especially when my body would reject the powdered drinks so quickly.) Gemma didn’t add any salt as this is the last thing you need when swimming in salt water – the sea is full of it and you take it on without even realising. I agreed that the soup was a good idea as there was nothing artificial in it, which gave me a positive association, unlike the powder. Phil also brought some non-flavoured carbohydrate gels with him as a backup. In addition I bought a few energy drinks I liked the taste of and which Dan Abel, an open-water swimming friend of mine, used on his swims. They had 30 grams of carbohydrate per 500 millilitres, which was similar to one scoop of the powder. I was concerned, though, as they were high in sugar and I hadn’t used them before so I had no idea how my body would react to them. I also bought some simple quick-energy foods such as chocolate and sponge cakes, as well as flat Coke in case I was sick – it had worked so well in the past to settle my stomach.

  I knew I still wasn’t getting the nutrition right and there must be better, healthier, more effective alternatives for fuel. There is research to show the benefits of fat stores as a source of energy in a marathon swim. The argument being, you have thousands of calories stored in your body and would not run out, so the energy is consistent. Whereas you have to keep refuelling on carbohydrates to prevent depletion and energy lows. I do not yet understand enough to argue the point extensively, but I know there isn’t one solution that works for everyone; I continue to keep an open mind.

  On the boat ride out to the start of a swim, I always feel my mind is vulnerable to negatives and self-doubt, which I am aware of, and this is why I try to avoid complete silence, keeping my thoughts occupied with positivity, joking and motivation. The journey to the starting point was one and a half hours and I tried joking with Phil to keep myself relaxed and calm. I also listened to my motivational CDs, as I had done before previous swims. I feel these are my best weapons for combatting the devil on my shoulder.

  Just before I slid into the water at Ohau Bay, the start point for the swim, I was sick over the side. It was probably due to motion sickness and a few nerves. Phil told me not to worry and just to get it out of my system. This was the first time I had been sick before the start of a swim. He also asked, ‘What are you wearing around your ankle?’

  I replied, ‘It’s a shark defence unit.’

  ‘Why have you got one of those on?’ he asked. ‘There aren’t any sharks out there!’

  ‘Just in case.’

  He said, ‘I would rather you not wear it as it will be a distraction.’

  I wasn’t sure whether he meant to me or to him, but I did as I was told. In Hawaii I had felt happier mentally having it on in shark-infested waters – while the little green light was on I felt I had some sort of protection. I knew there were sharks in the Cook Strait despite what Phil said, but once again I hadn’t read too much about this swim in order to keep my mind focused on the positives. I now know the Cook Strait’s depth is on average 420 feet and that, due to its unpredictable waters, sailings and ferry crossing are occasionally cancelled as the Strait is too dangerous to cross. There have been a number of ferries that have capsized on it due to the conditions, resulting sadly in loss of life.

  I entered the water at 8.10 a.m. As expected from testing the water temperature in a training session, it wasn’t warm. It felt quite a lot colder than the English Channel. Phil said it was around 16 degrees centigrade, which must have referred only to the deceptive surface temperature; deeper down it can drop off significantly. I tried to put my face in and received a sharp pain across my forehead; it took me a few goes to keep it fully immersed. From experience, this normally occurs in 13–14 degrees with me. I switched off thoughts about how cold it was and started getting into my stroke.

  As on my Gibraltar swim, my support crew, Phil and Gemma, were on a RIB next to me. The main boat with the GPS was leading out in front, which I much preferred; it meant that they could work out the currents and establish the best route for us to follow. This was the same as the Japan swim, where it had worked really well.

  I was tense and once again I couldn’t decide which si
de of the RIB to swim on. In the first thirty minutes I switched from breathing right into the RIB to left, then back again. I knew I was more comfortable breathing to the right and just needed to stick to it and stop messing around.

  I noticed both Gemma and Phil had put jackets on; I kept thinking it must be cold outside. Gemma had her hood up and was wearing a number of layers of clothing. There was a strong wind and it started to rain. There was quite a swell but I kept thinking it wasn’t as bad as Japan. A wave suddenly rolled over the top of me, breaking on the RIB and splashing them. I started smiling as I thought, ‘Serves them right for looking so warm!’ I was determined to try to enjoy the swim, and smiling even if you don’t feel cheerful can really help deflect your worries. Phil gave me the middle finger and we both started laughing.

  I had a fast pace for the first hour, covering 4.3 kilometres, but my mental state made me physically tense and my new stroke was all about relaxing and consuming as little energy as possible. Phil knew I wasn’t at ease and he said, ‘Now listen, you’ve covered four-point-three kilometres: you are doing really well, but just relax! If you don’t relax I’ll have to smack you over the head with my paddle!’

  It was meant in a joking way but I wouldn’t have put it past him. I have a lot of respect for Phil – he was a great swimmer in his day and has also coached to a very high level.

  I had a small cup of the energy drink I had bought at the supermarket and carried on. I started to ease the pace down, like Phil said, relax my shoulders and get back to my normal swimming posture, with my head in a neutral position, looking downwards, and my eyes forward. By looking upwards, as I used to, I had quickly given myself a stiff neck and affected my body position, driving my legs downwards. This was how I used to swim and the reason I still have a nerve problem in my neck now. By looking downwards, the head is neutral and it takes pressure off the neck and spine. It also brings the hip and feet up, making the body more streamlined without the use of leg kicks, which saves a lot of energy.