We boarded the boat and set off. Mark was notified and I gave him the approximate time I would be arriving at the finish point in Scotland. It was all guesswork, of course; I didn’t know whether the ocean gods would let me across, or what would happen along the way. I just had my faith and belief in my destiny to complete it.
It was only five minutes before we reached the start at Robbys Point. I got changed into my lucky shorts, which I had worn on other channel swims. I wouldn’t call myself superstitious, but I guess there was some comfort in wearing the shorts that had got me across other big swims. Gemma once again donned a pair of rubber gloves and applied Vaseline to the back of my neck and my shoulders. I then said my thank-yous to the crew and in I went.
As I jumped into the water, the temperature took my breath away. I had been more conscious about the temperature of this swim than any other due to all the comments people had made to me over the years. I wanted to remove the thought from my mind, however, as I kept telling myself it was just another swim.
The North Channel rules were similar to those of the Tsugaru Strait: touch a rock to start the swim. Quinton kindly dropped me 10 metres away so I didn’t have to swim far. I touched it and I was off. I thought, ‘One more swim to go to complete the seven – let’s get it done!’
A few minutes into the swim I saw the first of the lion’s mane jellyfish and it was huge. The largest ever recorded was 7 feet 6 inches tall with tentacles 120 feet long. By comparison, the largest blue whale ever recorded was 108 feet long. I have seen plenty of jellyfish before, but the sheer size of them was something else. At least when I was stung by a Portuguese man o’ war, I hadn’t been able to see it in the dark. These jellyfish were not to be messed with; they looked like some kind of alien being.
I steered around the first few, gambling left then right, with the boat to my right-hand side. It was unnerving; I didn’t want to have an encounter like I had experienced in Hawaii.
As I passed them, it was clear I wouldn’t always have enough time to react and would most likely get stung. I decided to swim looking forward, which I didn’t like doing as it hurt my neck and put pressure on my spine – the way I used to swim before changing it to the Ocean Walker technique.
After thirty minutes I swapped sides so that the boat was to my left, hoping there would be less of the jellyfish on that side. I had no idea, though – it was all luck and there was no way to tell where the best place to swim was in order to avoid them. Instead of Russian roulette it was jellyfish roulette, and losing would mean a very painful sting. The head of the jellyfish really does look like a lion’s mane, but this part does not sting you; it is the tentacles that are loaded with stinging cells called nematocytes. The stings affects human beings in different ways, from painful rashes to blistering, muscle cramps, breathing problems and possibly even death.
Just before the first feed, I looked left and they appeared in my eyeline. I attempted to veer off to the right and then more appeared. I felt ambushed. I tried to think of a way out of there, but the only way out was to swim backwards, which wasn’t ideal as I had not long started. I didn’t want to spend most of the swim mentally blocking out jellyfish stings. I was more wary about them after the pain I had gone through in Hawaii, and although a lion’s mane wouldn’t hurt as much as a Portuguese man o’ war, it would still be very painful. I didn’t need any distractions so early into the swim.
I stopped swimming and turned around, lifting my legs as I did so and narrowly missing two behind me. The crew shouted out, ‘What are you doing? Scotland is the other way!’
I said, ‘Just getting away from the jellyfish!’
Another response back from Gary Knox, who was the observer: ‘Just keep swimming – ignore them.’
Easy for him to say, I thought! I switched back to the left side, somehow narrowly avoiding getting stung once more.
I had my first feed on the hour, which was a new carbohydrate drink. We also had soup, but it was from the supermarket as our accommodation didn’t have cooking facilities for Gemma to use. I wasn’t sure how good it would be.
I was feeling the temperature more than ever before on a channel swim. I told myself I had swum in colder temperatures many times and I knew how to cope with it.
My concern was that, if I could feel it now, what was it going to be like in ten hours? I hadn’t thought this way before and I’m sure it was ingrained in my subconscious from people being negative about this particular swim. I told myself, ‘I am in control of the cold – it’s all in my head.’ I remember Quinton telling me it would get half a degree warmer after a couple of hours. I convinced myself that this would happen and so that was the first target to overcome.
I had a constant concern over the jellyfish stinging me, which I had never thought so much about before. I was finding it tough to relax, which I knew was burning unnecessary energy. There was much more eventful marine life underwater here than in the English Channel. At times I saw what appeared to be fishing line floating around and I was told afterwards that these were jellyfish tentacles. What I wasn’t aware of at the time – probably for the best – was that when the lion’s mane die they shed their tentacles and these can still sting you. I mean, how unfair is that?! I had been warned that, when they turn upside down, their tentacles float upwards towards the surface and it makes it even more difficult to avoid being stung. I was very anxious to keep my legs up as high as possible so that they didn’t catch any floating tentacles.
The sea conditions were flat, and the water looked like molten metal. The grey sky reflected onto the water and with no waves it was great – just what I had wanted on the other six swims. Although this was a positive, it could also become a negative as I knew that if conditions were flat, the jellyfish might come up to the surface; when it’s rough they normally stay down, making it easier for swimmers to avoid them. At the start of the swim, I had actually hoped for rougher conditions.
After a couple of hours I did feel like I was warming up. I’m not sure whether that was because Quinton had previously mentioned it would happen and I was focusing on that, or because it actually was warmer. The sun was now on my back, which again made a big difference to how I felt. I started to relax a bit more, although I was still mindful of the jellyfish. I needed to capitalise on these calm conditions and push on, as I knew it could change at any time. As I reached the six-hour mark, I could see the Scottish cliffs at Portpatrick. They looked so close that I thought I could make them in a couple of hours.
Only a small number of people had ever made the crossing and the world record time was nine hours thirty-four minutes, which seemed achievable at my current speed. Temperature wasn’t an issue any more and everything seemed to be going according to plan.
But as I swam on I was suddenly faced with what seemed like a lot of oversized half ping-pong balls in front of me. They were moon jellyfish, and as I found out afterwards not harmful to human beings as their toxins do not penetrate the skin; they only go after other small marine life. I was unaware of this at the time, though, having never seen them before and not being a specialist in jellyfish. I shouted to the boat, ‘Do they sting?’
The response back from Gary: ‘No!’
I thought, ‘Well, he’s going to tell me that anyway.’
They were quite stunning to look at, transparent on the outside but inside they varied in luminous colour from violet to red, pink, yellow and many others.
I managed to manoeuvre my way through them, slowly dodging left and right. It was impossible to avoid them all as there were too many. They were bouncing off the side of my face, arms and legs. On one of my strokes, I scooped one up in my hand on the pull, and immediately dropped it back in. It was like swimming in an extra-terrestrial world. I eventually made my way through them and the excitement was over. Every few minutes I would pass lion’s mane jellyfish and I began to realise that they normally came in twos, so if I saw one I would keep a close eye out for the other.
I felt it was now
only a matter of time before I finished. The sun was still out and conditions remained good, and as I reached the eight-hour mark we now seemed very close. Gemma put on my favourite motivational music over the boat tannoy and I could hear it when I went to breathe. This really lifted my spirits. At one point she drew a picture of a whale on the whiteboard we had on the boat. This made me smile as I thought she was saying, ‘Do it for the whales, Adam!’ What I didn’t realise was that she was trying to let me know that there were actual whales not that far away! I never saw this until afterwards as she caught them on camera.
At eight hours thirty minutes, I was told I had 3 kilometres to go, and at this rate it was very achievable to beat the fastest-ever crossing. This would be the icing on the cake and finish my journey off in perfect fashion. I picked the pace up and pushed for the finish. At nine hours, we were so close to finishing and I could see the lighthouse. The problem was that I was being pushed sideways to the east and I couldn’t get in!
At nine hours thirty minutes I still wasn’t close enough and the record had gone. I had a little smile to myself – I felt it was the ocean demonstrating its final dominance and having the last say.
In some ways, it was quite apt that the swim wasn’t entirely straightforward – none of them had been. This is why they were so notoriously tough.
I thought it was now only a matter of time before I hit land as I was so close. Then, without warning, Gemma and Gary starting shouting, ‘You have to go faster!’
‘Why?’ I said. ‘What’s wrong?’
The tide was turning and suddenly there was a look of concern from the boat which hadn’t been there before. I thought, ‘Not again!’ I had seen that look before. I started pleading with the ocean gods, ‘Please let me finish – it is too important. I have to complete this swim!’ I was less than half a mile from the finish but I remembered Quinton saying the last part was the toughest; he’d told me about a lady who attempted the crossing and who, having come within 150 yards from finishing, was pushed back out and didn’t make it to shore. I tried to get that out of my mind and focus on staying calm and turning up the speed again. I continued talking to the ocean: ‘Don’t you dare ruin it for me now!’
I sprinted for forty minutes and started breathing very heavily, wondering how much longer I could keep it up. Then, suddenly and again without warning, as if nothing had ever happened, the body language on the boat seemed to change back to normal and the situation was calmer again.
I saw a boat full of people behind me; they were watching me finish. I was excited and I thought Mark must be on it. He had travelled four hours to see me finish off the Ocean’s Seven challenge. He had been there at the beginning when I swam the English Channel and it meant a lot to me if he was there at the end.
Gemma had been in communication with him throughout the swim. As I approached the final 100 metres, the boat came alongside me and I saw he wasn’t on board. I wondered whether he knew where we were, as the plan had been to finish at the lighthouse, which of course we had now missed. It turned out that he was on the cliffs near the lighthouse, trying to get a view from the top. He was with a reporter from a Scottish newspaper, The Sun; they had apparently knocked on the door of a manor house to ask permission to look out from the bottom of their garden. The reporter explained they were trying to find a man swimming from Ireland to Scotland.
As I approached the last 50 metres, Quinton pointed out a rock for me to swim towards and touch to finish the swim. The people on the tourist boat next to me were cheering as I swam towards it. There was a shiver down my spine and I felt quite emotional. This was it: the completion of seven years of desire and hard work – a goal that would never have seemed possible in my wildest dreams. Somehow I was going to complete a challenge that involved pushing myself physically and mentally into the unknown, having never been 100 per cent fit.
I had prayed for this moment and it proved to me that everything really is possible if you don’t believe there are any barriers to achieving whatever you set out to do.
I reached the rock and touched it, then turned around with a big smile and gave the thumbs up. The swim was over! The Ocean’s Seven was over. It was a huge sense of relief. I had trained my mind to think I would achieve it and nothing but success was acceptable, but now it was done it was a little surreal. I had a calm celebration, as I had with the other swims; it hadn’t really sunk in.
In fact, as I write this, it still hasn’t really sunk in. I swam back to the boat and gave the crew and Gemma a big hug. I asked where Mark was as I wanted to celebrate with him. All my life he’s been there and supported me, and it was fitting that he was with me at the finish. He had contacted Gemma and told her he was on land trying to get out to me with Chris Sweeney, the press guy. I asked one of the boat taxis if he minded picking them up and he said it would be his pleasure. Quinton agreed to wait until he came out, which was very good of him.
After forty minutes Mark arrived and it was a perfect end to my epic adventure. The heavens opened just before he got to me and it was raining very hard and chopping the water up. Maybe the ocean gods weren’t so bad after all – they had waited for me to finish before becoming angry.
Before long we were all soaked. I hadn’t realised that my clothes were on deck and were now saturated. I had just swum in freezing cold waters for ten hours forty-five minutes and now I had nothing to change into. I wrapped up in a robe and sat in my trunks inside the boat. I didn’t really want to go inside as I would get seasick, but I needed to warm up. I had no choice. I sat inside holding onto the only other thing that was warm: a kettle. It seemed funny that I had left my job selling kettles because it wasn’t my passion, and yet I needed a kettle more than ever now to keep me warm! I had to spend the next two and a half hours blanking out the cold – not the best way of recovering from a cold ocean swim, it’s fair to say.
I arrived back in Ireland and thought, ‘For the first time in seven years I have no Ocean’s Seven swims left to think about …’ Clem had told me to not think of each swim as the main objective in itself, but instead part of a process that would result in me achieving my overall goal. Each swim was not the be-all and end-all in my mind – it was just a small part of a longer-term plan – so I had never over-celebrated, always focusing on the next one.
I had expected to complete all seven swims and I am a firm believer that you get what you focus on. They say those who believe they can do something and those who believe they can’t are normally both right!
26
CREATING YOUR OWN DESTINY
I had run out of swims and for the first time in years I could relax and enjoy my achievements. It felt strange as the pressure was now off. When I arrived home, it was a great feeling knowing I had achieved my dream. These seven channels were far more than just swims – they taught me so many lessons that I was able to put to practical use in my life. Each one presented its own challenge, which, like problems in everyday life, seemed at times impossible to overcome. I realised if I just stuck with whatever obstacle I was faced with, such as big waves and strong currents, at some point they would cease and I could then keep moving forwards. The answer was not to give up or accept that the barriers were more powerful than my desire to get through them.
I realised that the power of the mind is far stronger than a person’s physical capabilities. You can do anything you truly want to if you don’t allow self-doubt and fear of failing cripple you into making a bad decision or commitment. Nothing is beyond you and the world is full of incredible things that you can achieve. I urge you, if you have a burning desire to step out into the unknown and challenge yourself to find out what you are capable of, then listen to your thoughts and desires and do it. I believe there are often signs pushing you in a certain direction; for me and swimming, it was watching a movie on an aeroplane that changed everything, but it could have been any number of other prompts. I chose to take heed of that sign, but I could have ignored it and carried on being unhappy. Don’t accept
unhappiness – there are always options to change your circumstances and situation, but you have to create a different path by making a change and only you can make it happen.
When I took the hint and really looked at my life, I saw an unhappy future continuing on paths that could only get worse. I was looking for inspiration. On that day when I boarded the plane, I was without knowing it at my most open-minded, my most ready for change, and the movie made a connection with me. It offered a physical and mental challenge that would take me beyond my perceived limits. Swimming was a sport I was familiar with and one that represented a consistency that I hadn’t had with other sports due to my injuries, but I was inspired to take it to an exciting new level and change my life for the better.
I don’t believe I was born an open-water swimmer or that it is what I was put on the earth to do. At that time in my life, it was something I had to do in order to give me the fulfilment I craved so much. My relationship with sport had always been a strong one and I was always at my happiest doing some kind of physical activity, whether it was on the field playing rugby or cricket, on the tennis court with my brother, or in the pool swimming. This never left me as I moved into adult life, and so when I chose to go into a career in which a lot of my time was spent in an office or in front of a computer, it just wasn’t the right fit for me.
I now look at the world differently and keep my eyes and ears open for opportunity. I believe the Ocean’s Seven has given me much more than seven tough swims and an individual achievement. I now know the swims had to be completed in order to give me an opportunity to move on into new passions and meaningful causes, ones in which I could make a real difference. These will continue to give me the fulfilment I was missing for so many years. The swims are not the important part – what is important is what it all means.
Man vs Ocean - One Man's Journey to Swim The World's Toughest Oceans Page 20