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| The first steps of an epic day |
It all began at 0520, on Shakespeare Beach, Dover. The weather looked lovely and the sea looked calm. About 40 minutes into the swim, this all changed. I wouldn’t say the sea was rough but it was incredibly wavy, and the Sun just would not come out from behind the clouds, making it pretty cold. The major downer was the wind.
The first 4 hours passed by pretty quickly, and before I knew it I was in alongside Hannah for an hours swim. This is the longest you are allowed to swim with a Channel soloist, before you have to get out for a break. It is not to pace make, just to offer some company as it can get pretty lonely on marathon swims, even with people staring at you constantly from the boat. The hour passed by very quickly (for me), and once again I was on the boat and sorting out the feed.
Hannah was still swimming along at the same pace, keeping up a regular stroke rate and looking quite comfortable. She was chirpy at the feeds and everything looked rosy, by 7 hours she was nearing the separation zone in the centre of the Channel. We started making optimistic guesses of finishing times, we all thought around 14-15 hours, which seemed a reasonable assumption.
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| Keeping good form |
When I got in again at the 9 hour point, it wasn’t quite such a happy experience. Hannah was starting to feel it. Her pace had dropped significantly but she was still plodding along and looking reasonably comfortable under water. She was maintaining her technique, despite shoulder problems later revealed. By the end of this hour she was entering the North West shipping zone, or French waters, but everything was about to take a turn for the worse.
When we reached 4 nautical miles from the French coast we stopped. Literally stopped still, along with 3 other boats within our vicinity. Nobody was making any ground at all. Hannah was to cover around 250 metres an hour, for the next 3 hours. It was horrific to watch. At each feed I was telling her what good progress we were making towards the coast, but at one point we actually moved slightly further away. I got in again for another hour at the 14 hour point and felt the conditions for myself. It was definitely not a case of Hannah slowing, it was a case of the wind deciding nobody was going any further.
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| Our 3 hour sticking point |
After I got back out, I again asked Neil how far we had to go, and was told we still had 3.5 nautical miles. We were barely moving, and Hannah’s mood was deteriorating rapidly. She was still going though, her arms were just going through the motions almost automatically, despite the fact that she was obviously in pain and almost crying. I was so impressed and humbled by the whole experience. I knew she was gutsy but this really was incredible.
At the 16 hour feed I was sure it was soon going to be over, it looked like we were just never going to get moving again, it was heart breaking. Her Dad then suggested she move to the other side of the boat to get a bit of protection from the wind, and this turned out to be a master stroke. Although she still wasn’t exactly flying towards France she was moving in the right direction once again.
The coast of France looks deceptively close for an incredibly long time, but it never seems to get any nearer. It appears to stay the exact same distance away forever, until it is suddenly upon you. We never got to experience the moment where it was suddenly upon us, as it was pitch black, but the orange glow from the shore was gradually becoming separate lights, and we could see cars driving up and down just in front of us.
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| The final mile |
At the 17½ hour feed I was told she had under a mile to go. This was an excellent thing to hear as I was slowly but surely beginning to accept defeat, Hannah never reached this stage. The first time she complained or said she couldn’t do it was after 16 hours, and this blip lasted for about 20 seconds until she was off again – it was amazing.
After I delivered the 18 hour feed I was told to get changed and get ready to swim into shore with Hannah. This was an amazing moment for me, I can’t imagine what the feeling was like for her when she was told she had 300metres to push! I jumped in, to surprisingly warm water, and swam alongside. I told her to follow the torchlight. I wasn’t allowed to go in front so just breast stroked/front crawled next to her until she uttered the immortal word ‘sand’.
After 18 hours and 24 minutes, she had set foot in France.
We walked the last 15 metres or so until she was clear of the water, and that was that. Hannah Noble was a Channel swimmer, and one of the most deserved ones there can possibly be.
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| A well earned 5 second lay down |
I have now been on 2 Channel crossings, which have been massively inspirational yet completely different. Cameron Spittle’s crossing last year was an exhibition of pure swimming ability, coolness and just a text book display. Hannah's was an exhibition of absolute grit and determination.
It was a privilege to be involved with both, and it will provide much inspiration for my attempt in around 3 weeks. There are no excuses – I MUST GET ACROSS…
….one more thing, we had the added bonus of getting stopped and boarded by customs as we were leaving France. We were then taken to Boulogne and searched for 3 hours (apparently, I was asleep for the whole thing). If you’re going on a Channel swim always remember your passport. Luckily we all had, otherwise I think we were looking at a good few years hard labour.
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