My Solo English Channel Attempt 2010

And finally, the video of the swim, Postscript and Crew Corner

2011-03-06T22:48:00.005Z

POSTSCRIPT
“Blurt (verb). Burst out with, utter abruptly.”

I started doing a lot of it – “blurting” that is, when I finally took the plunge almost a year before my swim and chartered a pilot, his crew and his boat for a solo swimming attempt from England to France.

It’s fair to say I couldn’t help myself from “blurting” to all and sundry about my decision. The reason? Not only was there not a day that went by when I didn’t anxiously think about the Channel, but it was such a long way off and felt so surreal that it was only by spreading the word and raising the stakes that I felt I might force me to take myself seriously and begin to engage with the enormity of the task that lay ahead.

People’s reactions varied, well, not a lot; mad, insane, barking, doolally, out of your tiny mind, gone in the fetlocks, mid-life crisis – I was used to these types of observations BEFORE I ‘came out’ about the Channel, but you can imagine how ‘ripe’ the comments became once I started blurting?

And as the only times left to socialise when I wasn’t training had also to be spent eating, I can see how many who experienced my blurting between mouthfuls, might have been extremely sceptical about whether my claims to be ‘in training to swim the Channel’ should have been changed to training to enter the World Eating Championships.

Yet slowly but surely, as with anything that is repeated often enough, the “I’m going to attempt to swim the Channel” blurts began to assume a reality for me, accompanied by an ever-increasing burden as I left myself less and less opportunity for backing out. And bizarrely, as my attitude changed, so it seemed did the reaction of others.

So what about now? Has swimming the Channel changed me?

I’d love to say that the effects are that I have discovered the art of Zen and no longer need the trappings of my previous day-to-day lifestyle to sustain my body and soul. Sadly, I can’t; the truth is that I don’t feel that any measurable metamorphosis has taken place.

Bizarrely, with each re-telling of my account of the swim, it quickly became more distant and once again more surreal.

So, it's a relief to check with Wilber, Laurence, and Stuart, my wonderful crew, that I didn't imagine the whole thing and what better way to sign off than to pass over to them to have the last word...

CREW CORNER - How the Crew Saw The Journey

Laurence's Log
Ian’s Channel Swim Log Tuesday 3rd August

2:15am: After I sweep the video camera around and making sure that everyone’s ready, Eric the skipper says ‘Right we better wake up the neighbours’ and we’re off, leaving the harbour and en route to Ian’s take off point at Samphire Hoe.

2:30am(approx): After putting some suncream on I apply the grease to his neck and shoulders and he’s ready to hit the water. He switches on his lights, the one attached to his trunks is described by Will as a radioactive turd. He mutters something about having to escape the Zombies and then he’s over the side into the pitch black…..singing!!!!
‘’It’s a lovely, lovely day for a swim etc’’

2:48am: He’s on the beach , his hands up and he’s back in the water and away. The first stroke count is 56 spm, the water’s calm and I’m told that he’s the perfect distance from the boat.

3:24am: He’s won the first mile in 33 minutes. The sea temperature is 16º and air temperature is 15º. Looking back we can just make out the cliffs in the moonlight and Ian is still clocking 56 strokes per minute.

3:45am: The first feed- not ideal! My fault , there’s not enough maxim and then the horror as the jelly babies abandon ship from the feeding cup to a watery grave.

4:08am: He’s averaging 1.9mph and still at a constant 56 strokes per minute Ian looks settled already.
We’re getting the odd wave from the swell but generally it’s very flat and looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.

4:45am: The second feed is considerably more successful than the first and he gets down two half cups of Maxim. He’s still at 56 strokes per minute but pulling through the water at 2mph.
The sun’s starting to rise and we can see how busy the channel really is not just with freight but we can also see several other channel swimmers support boats.

5:15am: His stroke rate is down to 54 but the speed is unchanged.

5:45am: The third feed goes well although his mini-roll gets wet.
‘’These poles are sh*t’’ (or was it rolls) – This gets a big laugh from the crew , he’s obviously in good shape.

6:15am(3.5 hour feed): He manages the Maxim and one slice of pear and peach. He says he can’t manage anymore sugar but we all agree that we should stick with the feeding plan that includes fruit sugar in the maxim – Freda knows best! However do reduce the amount to a level teaspoon.

6:20 We have just entered the South-West Shipping Lane.
I think it’s a big deal when Will points out that we can’t see the shore at Dover however Andy (the observer) points out that I’m looking the wrong way,
‘’Oh yeah – there it is!’’

6:45am(4 Hour Feed):Got the Maxim down but refusing the Jelly Babies you ungrateful bast*rd! You’ve really hurt their feelings. Great turn around though- 30 seconds for that feed.
The stroke rate is 54 a minute and he’s looking solid. 8.86 miles covered averaging 2.3 mph.

6:52am: Really starting to see some traffic now including a freighter named ‘’Claus’’- obviously a gay german!

7:15(4.5 hour feed) Another 30 second feed! But he shuns the banana cruelly hurling it to it’s doom. Currently on 52 strokes per minute.

7:20am: A P&O Ferry comes within spitting distance. The people on board wave but Ian rudely ignores them preferring instead to forge on, like some forger errrr….

7:30am: 10.1 miles covered in 4hours and 36 minutes. All he’s got to worry about at the moment is sunburn and all this food we’ve got to eat. The boat is clearly struggling under the weight of pasta I’ve brought on board.

7:45am(5th Hour feed): Flush through with ribena (no Maxim).He says no to a posh mini-roll – might be loosing his sanity. Have to keep an eye on his mental health.
Sill on 52 strokes per minute.

8:15 (5.5 hour feed):This feed takes 30 seconds, his stroke rate is up to 54 per minute and he’s average speed is 2.1mph.

8:45(6hour feed):This feed takes 45 seconds. 3 Jelly Babies in cup – ate one, left one , spat one out!
Sun’s back out after an overcast spell and his stroke rate is running at 53spm.12.5 miles covered so far – half way!!

8:50am: Big fat seal pops his head out…no , not the pop star. I dash for the video camera and it disappears- this happens several times.

9:15am(6.5 hour feed)It’s electrolyte time – too hot!! Asks for Peaches instead of Bananas who does he think he is? We can’t make many more deviations from the plan!

9:30am: We hit the separation zone.

9:45am(7 hour feed)average speed 2mph, he’s covered 13.77miles and the stroke rate is 55.Looking good!
Sun’s out and the feed took 30 seconds.
‘’How are you peeing’’ shouts Stuart
‘’Good enough’’ shouts Ian

9:55am: We get told by Eric that we are officially half way across about a third of a mile from the North East Shipping Lane.

10:15am(7.5 hour feed): This feed took 1min 10 sec. he’s straight back into his rhythm after the feed at 54 strokes per minute.
He asks if we are in the North East Shipping Lane and Eric tells me we’re about to hit it.
Morale on the boat is high bolstered by Ian’s impressive performance so far.

10:45am(8hours feed) This one takes 1min,15 secs – Eric tells Ian that we’re now in what swimmers refer to as ‘’poop alley’’ ‘cos of all the crap floating about. I’m stunned at the amount of Jellies, two of which Ian narrowly misses when he backs away from the feeding pole.

11:15am(8.5 hour feed): Ian takes on some hot water on the flush through – well he would of if he hadn’t spat it out when Stuart told him we’d been on the phone to Freda and she’d said ‘’ no slacking or you can kick his ar*e!’’.
The great debate about where the heck Holland is rages on.

11:25am: Stroke rate 55!!

11:40am(9 hours feed): 40 seconds for this one! Ian’s been swimming against the tide for the last ten minutes so we called him in early for a feed. Will had tried to design a sign on the whiteboard to tell him to swim parallel, but two parallel lines on a board could mean anything! Eric asks that he swims parallel to the boat along the tide, which he starts doing immediately. The water is a bit choppier – certainly the boats rocking more than it has been.
Current stroke rate is 54 per minute.

12pm – 17 miles covered , average speed 1.9mph ,stroke rate 55 per minute.

12:15(9.5 hour feed) Stroke rate is 56. It’s still choppy – sh*t sliding everywhere in the boat. France just doesn’t seem to be getting any closer.

12:45 (10hour feed):Not the best feed. Wore more of it than he drank! The electrolyte looks like liquid white dog poo (only available in the 70s) and tastes like sh*t as well – obviously this doesn’t help.

13:15(10.5 hour feed) – Good feed – got nearly all the maxim onboard. The water is still really choppy – boat all over the place.
Still his stroke rate is excellent at 53spm.

Passing a massive Maersk Container ship – HUGE!

13:45 (11hour feed) Good feed – now rough as f*ck!

14.10 We are told by Eric that Ian needs to get moving if he is to get through before the tide turns and avoid an extra few hours tagged onto the end of the swim. We make an executive decision and bring him in early and up the maxim to get him through the battering waves. It seems to work as his stroke rate goes up to 56spm without us mentioning anything.

14:45(12hour feed) Super strength maxim –double strength diluted with water , 1 teaspoon fruit sugar and an additional 1 teaspoon of powdered maxim.
He’s now hit inshore waters and is still looking good in very rough conditions.
Some French Bird is on the radio and Ian’s stroke rate is 55spm.

Ian says ‘’Is there any point in me carrying on sprinting’’

15:15 (12.5 hour feed) 2 x maxim extra strength to keep him going as it’s still proper rough, but he’s gaining ground , or water with every stroke – very impressive.
Stroke rate 54 spm.

15:45(13 hour feed) sorry no notes

16:15(13.5 hour feed):Extra Strength Maxim ( and I mean extra strength with added extra!) and peaches.
His stroke rate is 52. There’s loads of white horses and he looks determined to finish and we still believe he can do it!

16:45(14 hour feed): Choppy, chop,chop, chop, choppy, chop, chop, chop – stroke rate 52.

17;15(14.5 hours): Electrolytes feed. Ian asks Stuart to join him and of course Stuart’s elated he’s been waiting for this all day! The boat crew don’t get a chance to get the railing out of the way as Stuart dives in soaking me and Will!
Stroke rate is 56spm.

17:39(15hour feed) Ian’s stroke rate is 53. The Feed went badly and he didn’t take hardly any on board – probably not a bad thing as the feed is quite maxim heavy! We do consider feeding Stuart by tipping a 5 litre container of tuna pasta on his head, but decide that undue laughing could hamper Ian’s efforts. Eric telling him that he’s winning and things will get easier the nearer in-shore he gets have definitely improved things. The beach is insight!

And those are all the notes before we switched to the video camera and tried to film the last act. Eric stopped the boat half a mile out, not being able to risk being run aground. Gary took the dingy with outboard to accompany him in. We weren’t allowed to go in the dingy either, so we filmed long-distance from Pathfinder. Stuart was told to swim in to the beach with Ian as a safety measure because Gary couldn’t take the dingy in close enough due to the risk of being swamped in the surf.

He ran up the beach and then after picking up a stone and waving ran back into the water and swam back to Gary to be picked up and taken to Pathfinder for the return. Unbelievably he didn’t look in bad shape although L’Oreal will never use salt water as an eye treatment as he’s eyes did look very puffy, and after 3 hours of throwing up on the return journey in some of the worse conditions I’ve ever been out in he was well enough to go and have dinner with his family. Now that’s hardcore!

Well done Mate!

Stuart's Log

Sunday 1st August 2010
I’m rather excited today; I’m expecting a call from Ian, to confirm that I am required in Dover this evening to prep for Ian’s swim tomorrow.
Call came in at circa 3pm, to confirm we are NOT going tomorrow, not needed in Dover tonight, hopefully tomorrow evening though ready for Tuesday

Tuesday 2nd August 2010
Went to work today, but received a call from Ian, circa 12noon to say that we are on for tonight, and his big swim tomorrow, I need to be in Dover, but Ian said, ‘Not before 10pm, as he’ll be trying to sleep before then.
Finished work at circa 17.30 and headed home to shower & change. Left at circa 8pm and headed to Dover, I called at 22.15 to confirm I was 10 mins away and I spoke to Lawrence – seems like a nice guy!
I arrived at 22.25 and indeed Ian was still in bed, however as Ian himself confirmed he’ slept about 4 hours in 2 – 3 days,
I then helped Lawrence, with the notorious Maxim, mixing it up to double concentrate as per the detailed instructions headed ‘Freda Streeta’ otherwise known as ‘The General’
I asked Ian about the feeding pole, a ‘must have’ on any channel swim to which he replied ‘oh ******’ he’d been in Dover, or rather Varney Ridge for several days now, and had enquired about the feeding pole each day, and every day, had the reply – ‘oh yes – we’ll sort that tomorrow’ It was now circa 23.15 and Ian was due to set off for his swim in less than 4 hours and we had no feeding pole!
After several trips around the (Varney Ridge) camp site, two or three phone calls to the office, mobile and emergency number I saw sight and sound of... No-one!
We continued to mix Maxim, pack food boxes, drinks and other various equipment, during which I asked Ian and Lawrence who else was due to join us for the journey. ‘Wilbur’ was the reply which each time came with a follow up comment such as ‘if he ever gets here’ or ‘if he turns up’ or even ‘if Wilbur can find a coast line on this Island!’
The time got to 12midnight, and we decided that just one hour kip, would be advantageous, we worked out our plan, and packed the car, and headed for a 45mins of shut eye before needing to leave at 1.15am. – 12.15 - Lights out!!!
12.30 Lawrence comes out of his room – ‘Wilbur’s arrived!’ (So much for any kip) – and in walks Wilbur and Martin (Martin is a young lad that Wilbur’s mentoring) after a few pleasantries and a quick cup of coffee it was time to head off for the boat (leaving Martin at the caravan).
Ian, Lawrence, Wilbur and I headed down to the harbour in search of ‘pathfinder’ and its pilot – Eric. After a few to’s and fro’s we found Pathfinder, Eric, Eric’s assistant Gary Watkinson and the CSA official Andy Pope.
At 02.15 we left Dover harbour and headed for Shakespeare’s Beach, on the way Ian completed the Channel Swimmers ritual greasing up with a ‘Varney Ridge’ special concoction. We arrived at Shakespeare’s Beach and as Ian dropped over the side of the boat, he starting singing ‘Oh what a lovely day for a day-swim’ he stoked smoothly over to the beach climbed out and signalled he was ready. Andy checked his watch (02.48am) signalled back, and Ian waded into the water. A few hundred yards in and he was alongside us, looking good! We counted his stokes and he was breezing through the very calm moonlit waters at a steady 56 strokes per minute.
1st half mile in 20 mins. No wind, no waves, clear skies and the water as calm as a millpond and calmer than most swimming pools. Just after 03.15am Ian did his first mile, the water was 15degrees and the air temperature was 15.
On the hour, Ian had his first feed, 1.7 miles completed, he took the Maxim drink well and then snatched his jelly babies, losing 2 of the 3 in the process.
This really was a beautiful setting; there we were, still in the inner waters of the English coastline, but with an orange glow in the horizon and Ian’s pace carving a lovely V shape through the waters.
04.30am – Ian had dropped from 2.0 mph to 1.9mph and strokes were down to 54/55 per minute
04.45am Although no dawn break this was the first feed in what seemed like daylight, bright skies already as Ian took 2 x ½ cups of maxim and quarter of banana – immediately after he was back up to 2.0mph and up to 56 strokes per minute (spm)
05.22am the sun eclipsed the horizon – and within 3 minutes the full breadth of the sun was over the horizon – Ian must have been watching this too as his stroke rate was now down to 52 spm
05.45am 2 x ½ cups of Maxim and a Sainsbury’s chocolate Swiss roll, but no ordinary chocolate roll – no; Ian had gone cheap, and had bought Sainsbury’s Basics – They certainly looked it!!! Nonetheless, we stuck to the plan and fed him the chocolate delicacy - “F**K They Taste SH*T” was the comment from the disapproving customer!!!!
06.20 we entered the South West shipping lane – Oh my! Some of those tankers are big!!! According to skipper Eric - water and air temperature both up to 17 degrees.
06.45 – Feed – Ian took the Maxim well and totally ignored the Jelly Babies – ignored the food (and ignored Freda – “If I have any more sugar I’ll be sick” he said before pushed off again. Stroke rate 54 spm.
07.15 - We were now into our 30 min feeds, strokes pre-feed at 07.15 51 spm – Maxim and again Ian ignored the delicious ¼ banana, stroke rate after feed 54 spm – At this point with all three of us counting stroke and recording times, Lawrence turned and said “Oh my God we’ve turned into time and motion study observers – what an anorak! What has my life come to?”
07.45 Ian’s doing well, but the support crew flagging – this feed was down to Stuart and Lawrence – Feed went well apart from the complaint from Wilbur ‘to complete feeds more quietly and to ask Ian to keep his voice down, we’d disturbed Wilbur’s sleep and woken him from a vital cat-nap at the back of the boat!
I then got chatting to Lawrence and Wilburto discover that the three of them knew each other through a band they played in, in a North London Pub – The Fabulous Apple Lip Brothers – aptly named after a radio DJ once got the bands previous name miss-pronounced – a time when they were called ‘The Apocalypse Brothers’
Just before the 08.15 feed I found my true calling on the trip – I was given the honour of supporting Paddington, Paddington Bear’s photo-shoot.
08.15 Feed – we’re tempted to pull Ian from the water – we feel he might be suffering from hypothermia – he’s now refused a ‘proper’ deluxe chocolate Swiss roll’!!!
08.49 – just after the feed – Ian hits 12.5 miles - Could this be half way???? Who knows – all is going extremely well!
Just after 9am we spotted a seal in the water with Ian, he’s a big’un – probably as big as Ian and certainly heavier – for the next 3o minutes between the 2 feeds he popped up out of the water in several different positions around Ian and the boat – But Lawrence soon knew how to get rid – he reached for the video camera and said 'oh I gotta get this on film’ – needless to say that was the last we saw of the seal!!!
Ian had had his first ‘flush through’ feed – nothing but hot squash not Maxim or food, and next up was the electrolytes – “Tastes Crap” – some people are so hard to please!
09.10 We were just preparing Ian’s ¼ banana – when the increasing fussy customer shouts “Peach Slices” – not even a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ Feed went well though – I risked asking him how he was feeling “Good Enough” came the answer. We then told Ian about the seal – he looked pleased, it seemed to give him just an ounce of lift.
09.30 – Entered the central separation lane, this ‘central reservation’ is one mile across and the next time we have ships passing us, they’ll be coming from the right – heading left along the North East shipping lane. – 09.36 54 spm
10.45 – We’re right in the middle of Jelly world now, everywhere we look we can see 3, 4 or 5 of the little bu**ers, dozens of them passing by every minute. During the fed Ian got stung – but he still seems in really good spirits.
Ian’s speed has dropped we made it up to an average of 2.1 mph over the last few hours, but that average dropped to 2.0 and now to 1.9mph (15.52 miles and 8hrs 6mins)
During the 11.15 feed I casually mentioned to Ian that I’d just got off the phone to Freda, I reported to him that Freda had insisted that he kept up his stroke rate and speed, and that if he didn’t, we had her permission to ‘kick his butt’ on that note Ian burst out laughing spraying his Maxim all across the channel!
11.45 During which we told Ian about his wasted energy in that he kept swimming so far from the boat, we requested he swims closer – having said which we really started to notice the chop picking up, wind was getting stronger and the waves were starting to from – Lovely clear waters though – NO jellies now, but masses of plankton.
By 12noon the Boat was really starting to roll from side to side, Ian had been swimming for 9 hours and 8 minutes and had covered 17.36 miles at an average of 1.9mph.
12.15 & 12.45 feeds all went well.
13.15 feed by Wilbur – lost most of the Maxim before it got to Ian and 2 of the peach slices fell out too!
13.25 – We are now well into the NE shipping lane and the biggest tanker you’ve ever seen in your life called ‘MEARSKUE’ just missed Ian’s head by..... Well half a mile looks quite close when the tanker is that big!
Been chatting to Wilbur, we’ve come up with a plan, when we’re getting to within about 400 meters of France were going to jump in swim past Ian, singing com’on slow coach! – Faster! – Faster! And then as we get to the shore before him we shout - I won! – I won!
13.45, - 15.45 feeds all went well
As we got to the 16.15 feed we spoke to Eric and he confirmed what we thought we could see, that the tide turning, we were making good progress towards Cap Gris Nez – but with the tide turning Ian was not going to make the Cap – the tide would soon be pulling us towards Calais. We could also tell that Ian’s speed and stroke rate were dropping... The support crew took an executive decision (supported by a phone call to Freda) we would start to double up on the Maxim!
16.45 – 17.45 Feeds again went well despite the wind, waves and waters really picking up – we lost a tin of peaches as well as many items of personal belongings being tossed back and forth across both sides of the boat, some of the waves were up to 1.5 to 2 meters – we were losing sight of Ian, albeit for a second or two as waves concealed our view.
18.15 Ian invited me to join him in the water, he must have been able to see France for more than 2 – 3 hours, and whilst he was making good progress, the feeling of progress, partly due to the tide and the waves, was less clear. It must have taken me all of 2 minutes to get changed and ready to dive over the side to be with him, I’d been willing him all day to invite me in.
I swam with Ian for a while thoroughly enjoying myself, An hour of being tossed up and down was exhilarating, but I did feel for Ian, having these waves so big for so long, and after so many hours of swimming. I desperately wanted to swim just in front of Ian and to give him any minute advantage that I could, a bit of slip-stream, a fraction of protection from the chop even to be his pace maker for a while – but I was not allowed, the conditions of the swim meant I was to swim just behind him. I tried to make sure I was in sight each time he breathed, I tried to replicate the smile he and I had sometimes shared with each other swimming across the harbour at Dover, to give him any encouragement and reassurance I could.
I looked up at one point and noticed Andy the CSA official attracting my attention – I was really disappointed, I knew he was going to ask me to get out...
I was wrong, we were so close to the shore Andy and Eric were informing us that the boat couldn’t go any further and this was the point that Ian and I could swim to the shore, Andy reminded me not to assist Ian until he’d cleared the water completely.
We swam strong, starter to ride the waves to the shore, about 50 yards out, Ian stood up, you could see the relief and pride all over his face, and then in a split second the emotions, I am sure coupled with a tad of exhaustion) his face said it all – LAND! I’m here! I’ve made it! I wanted to give him a huge hug to congratulate him, and then recalled Andy’s advice, “com’on Ian make it out of the water completely clear!” I dropped back into the water and swam long and strong, in water knee deep, he stood up again and raced up on to the beach, clear of all water he punched the air with both arms like a real winner! I was so, so pleased for him and so proud of him, we hugged for a second of two, but he felt cold and looked tired, we signalled to the boat and waded back into the water (not before Ian grabbed a pebble) – a pebble I just knew was going to get pride of place in his home, will be the subject of stories in years to come and will probably evoke many emotions too every time it catches Ian’s eye.
He did it; my training buddy I met in May this year had successfully completed his cross channel swim on Tuesday 3rd August 2010 in a time of 15 hours and 47 minutes. Wow what a day what a brilliant experience – Ian, I am so proud – CONGRATULATIONS!

How It Went In A Nutshell

2010-08-16T17:51:00.010+01:00

Strongest Motivator - So far I've raised approx 6k and have been over-whelmed by people's generosity in these hard times; the fear of letting them down was foremost in my head whenever I felt like getting cold feet before and during the swim.

Most Surreal Moment - standing on a boat in the depths of night in nothing but my budgie smugglers covered in sun cream

Silliest Moment - jumping in to the water from the boat to swim to the English shore in readiness to start and singing my lungs out "Oh it's a lovely night for a swim"

Best Comic Moment - (for the crew, anyway); choking on a mouthful of drink on being told by my crew that the Channel General, Freda Streeter, had phoned to say that I must keep my pace up or the crew could "kick my arse".

Most Beautiful Moment - seeing the the dawn come up and the sun rise, even though I knew a 'blood' dawn spelt bad weather for later in the day

Worst Moment - after only 3 hours into the swim when I felt physically dreadful, exhausted and so, so, nauseous; I'd tried my whole repertoire of mental 'coping' strategies and had already settled for the last resort of telling myself 'left hand, right hand, left hand right hand' for the next 2 hours.

Most Thrilling Moment - after 5 hours when I suddenly realised my shoulder-injuries weren't troubling me, I'd stopped shivering or feeling tired and nauseous and I felt strong enough to tell myself "I can actually do this" and to truly believe it for the first time ever.

Most Painful Moment - jelly fish sting in the south west Shipping Channel, a very painful area I can assure you!

Most Wasted-on-me Moment - an inquisitive seal who kept popping up to have a look at me mid-swim, to which I remained completely oblivious.

Most Anxious Moment - after 12 hours, having had France in my sights for the last 3 hours and after swimming as fast as I could for 2 hours in response to my pilot's advice to try and break through the currents but having been slowed down by Force 5 winds and sea swell to match, realising that the tide had turned for the 2nd time and that we were now getting swept by tide and winds towards the North Sea and further away from France

Daftest Moment - having become so focused on keeping going and being convinced that I was as far away as I had been 3 hours ago with at least 3 hours left to swim, that I failed to hear my crew shout that I was only half a mile from shore.

Slowest 'Penny-Dropping' Moment - being irritated that the boat wasn't keeping alongside, turning round to see why and slowly realising that the shouting and waving of my crew to go on ahead was because it was too shallow for the boat to get any closer in to the shore and I must be almost there!

Most Relieved Moment - running out of the water and standing on the beach waving back at the boat to confirm I'd done it.

Best Memento Moment- the stone I picked up from the shore to show my observer.

Most Anti-Climatic Moment - being sick as a dog the whole 3 hours boat-trip back to Dover because my body couldn't digest the super-strength carbohydrate drinks I'd been having to get me through the last few hours of my swim.

Best 'Doh!' Moment - catching the reflection of my face on the way back after the swim, seeing a red and white egg and realising that through all the nerves before starting I'd forgotten to put sun cream on my face.

Happiest Moment - having landed back in Dover having stopped being sick, I was thinking of everyone who had helped me along the way and felt at peace with the World; as if that wasn't enough, I then heard the surprise family-welcoming committee - I think this photo says it all.

Most Frequent Q & As -

Q How long did it take?
A 15 hours 47 minutes.

Q How far did you swim?
A 29 miles.

Q How windy was it?
A Force 1 increasing to Force 5.

Q What was the sea-state?
A Low 1 increasing to Moderate 5.

Q Why didn't you swim in a straight line?
A Tides, currents and winds - when the tide turned after 12 hours, it combined with the wind to push us north east at a speed of 5 knots - not very helpful when you're trying to swim south.

Q Would you do it again?
A Can't see why. But I think I understand now why some people do - 'Never say never', right?.....

PLOT OF MY SWIM AS IT HAPPENED

2010-08-05T22:55:00.005+01:00

This is the plot which my pilot Eric Hartley recorded with his on-board computer of my successful English Channel solo swim on 3rd August 2010

2010-07-28T11:18:00.006+01:00

Here's what licening.biz had to say about my swim attempt.

Barnet Today News posted this article after my swim. I don't remember saying that I drank the Channel, though it's still nice to get the mention - thanks go to good friend Andy Wilson for being my PR man for this!

2010-07-08T13:22:00.002+01:00

Stats - The first solo was by captain Webb in 1875. The fastest is by Peter Stoychev in just under 7 hours. The average is approx 13-14 hours. More have climbed Everest than swum solo across the English Channel; up to 1995, more people had been in space. To July 3rd 2010, there have been 1520 successful solo swims by 1099 swimmers. Of these, only about a third are from the UK.

The French - The French authorities no longer permit swims to start from France since 1996, following a death. This doesn't stop 2 way and even 3 way solo swims starting from Dover, though.

The Streeters - Alison Streeter is Queen of the Channel – she’s swum it 43 times, including a ‘triple’ in the World record time of 34 hours 40 minutes. She was allowed up to 10 minutes standing at each ‘end’ before having to start swimming again, not that she used them. Ali is now a pilot helping other swimmers achieve their crossings. Freda Streeter, Alison’s mother, has guided wannabe Channel swimmers for the last 25 years or so every weekend from May at Dover Harbour; a.k.a. “The Channel General”, Freda takes no nonsense and has an unnerving insight as to what each swimmer needs to do. My first instructions were “Be a good boy, do what you’re told and we’ll get you across” – I was in shock. And in awe. Shock and Awe! Neil Streeter is Freda’s son and also a pilot – quite a family!

Kevin Murphy is King of the Channel with 34 crossings. Kevin trains at my local pool at Barnet Copthall and also in Dover harbour. Having had a heart attack a while ago, he’s undaunted and told me early July on the beach that he’s thinking of another crossing later this Summer.

Distance - The shortest distance across the Channel is from Shakespeare Beach, Dover, to Cap Gris Nez (the headland halfway between Calais and Boulogne). This distance is approximately 21 land miles. But the tides sweep you sideways towards the North sea and then back towards the Atlantic, so you cover a lot more ground and, if you don’t end up at the Cap, you’ll swim a lot further because the land drops away either side.

Tide and Time - Due to the shallow and narrow shape of the English Channel, the flow-direction carries on ‘filling’ the North Sea for 4.5 hours after high tide, until it finally turns and then flows out towards the Atlantic also for 4.5 hours longer than low tide. The flow-rates get faster during the 2 periods of spring tides each month; it can be 5 knots or more, so there’s less room for error when planning to finish at the Cap. Think “Frogger” – the electronic game where you guide a frog across rivers on fast moving logs first one way and then the other; each river is like a 6 hour tidal-flow taking you sideways at speed (particularly if it's a Sring tide) . If you swim at the same speed all the way across and take 12 hours, you should have ended up back on the line you started on. But now factor in wind and chop, swell, weather, misbehaving currents and tides, inconsistent swimming speeds, Channel traffic (-it’s like a 6 lane motorway out there-) and a lot more besides and pin-pointing your arrival at the Cap is inevitably hit and miss – mostly miss.

Start Time - Most of the swims start one hour before high water during one of the 2 periods of neap tides each month. Mine looks like being a 1a.m. start (or less likely 1p.m.), weather permitting. As it’ll be dark at some point, I shall have to wear a light on my goggle strap and on the back of my trunks until daylight.

Rules – There are many. Non-heat retaining costumes only, no wetsuits etc. goggles, ear plugs and nose clips only, along with Vaseline or grease, being a mixture of lanolin and Vaseline not goose fat and to stop chaffing not to keep you warm (-it doesn’t).

Authentication - only 2 bodies are allowed to authenticate Channel swims – the Channel Swimming Association and the Channel Swimmers and Pilots Federation. The reality is that swimmers will often pick the authority they already know or, as in my case, the one to which their pilot is registered. Full medicals and certification of a recent 6 hour qualifying swim in cold water are needed to register. An observer from your body will travel on the boat and check you don’t get help or touch the boat or the people on it. They’ll also check any pain killers, sea sickness, cramp and other medicines you may be planning to take to see if they’re permitted or not, just as with most of the major competitive sports.

Pilots and queues – not planes, boats; they’re hugely skilled and experienced and there’s only about 15 of them, split between the CSA and the CS & PF. Each books a queue of 4 or 5 swimmers on each neap tide of 7 or 8 days. The first in line have first refusal as to when to swim and most often choose depending on whether to stay or wait depending on the weather. To get a 1st place in the queue between mid July to late September, you need to plan 3 years ahead. Pictured is my pilot Eric Hartley's boat, Pathfinder.

Feeding – typically this comprises warmed calorie-drinks, such as Maxim, but with treats that you can scoff without stopping or touching the boat – passed on poles or thrown in bottles tied to string for retrieving once used. The drinks and treats need to be quick and easy to swallow and carefully chosen; not everything mixes well with the inevitable swallowing of sea water e.g. bananas!

When Do I Go? - I am now 2nd in the queue for the first neap tide of August 2010 from 1st to the 8th, following my advance from 3rd place after a drop-out. In theory I could go any time in that period, but am hoping that the relay team in line before me won’t worry about the weather so much and will go at the first opportunity, even if not ideal. This is possible because relays are usually by teams of 6 people swimming 1 hour at a time in rotation, so factors like rougher water and the cold don’t have such an impact. Conversely, organising all 6 people to be in Dover at the same time on short notice can be a bigger concern.

How Long Will It Take Me? - Most who’ve swum it don’t think of times – there’s too many factors which can affect the swim’s chances of success, never mind sticking to a set time. Karteek Clarke, a new found friend and Cornwall neighbour of my parents, is registered as a 9 times successful soloist. His last swim in 2009 at just under 17 hours compares with his fastest of under 11 hours; the conditions are key. So I’m heeding his advice on this and lots more besides – forget the time!

What Do I think About When I am Swimming for hours on end? - That's the hardest question of all to answer; what I think about and, more importantly, how I do so is as likely to determine whether I can make it or not as anything else, even assuming the most favourable of conditions and a sufficiency of physical training.

2010-07-07T16:32:00.007+01:00

THE JOURNEY SO FAR - JULY 2010
I am not really a swimmer. I’ve never had a coach or a club. Recreational holiday swimming, with the occasional bout of keep-fit morning swims at the local pool, was about my lot. But I’ve secretly dreamed of swimming the Channel for years and years. I just never told anyone.

I signed up to a charitable swim around Gozo, Malta which is how I started<>in the summer of 2008. I had got the bug, so I carried on in 2009 and completed my first 2 marathon swims, Lough Erne and Lake Windermere.

In September 2009, I decided I would declare my dream and try to make it a reality; booking a pilot and his boat and crew for an English solo Channel attempt for the first week of August 2010.

Since then I’ve trained and trained. I took technique lessons in December and trained alone at indoor pools throughout the winter. It felt futile, tiring and isolating. I started sea-training at Easter in Cornwall. It was 7 degrees C, I managed ¾ of an hour each time and felt hypothermic. It was great to be out of the pool, but my confidence was very low.

I started the Dover-organised swims in May 2010 and struggled with the others in 10 degree-water. I decided I had to go every weekend, if I was to have a chance of keeping up; if I could, it would address my low confidence, but if not, well, I would know inwardly that I would have no choice but to scrap the whole idea, at least for 2010.

By Whitsun, I felt I had turned a corner; I was now keeping up with back-to-back swims of 3 and 4 hours at Dover. And on 19th June I completed my first open water 6 hour swim in 13.7 degrees water and was able to complete my registration for the Channel attempt.

Since then it has been 7 and 6 hour swims each weekend and my consistency and power has improved with each. Frankly I can’t believe I’ve survived the training – it feels like a real achievement.

I am now fine-tuning in the short time remaining. I plan to test out a few things e.g. my newly acquired Channel grease (-no, not goose fat, but lanolin and Vaseline mix and it’s mostly to stop chaffing rather than heat retention -), feeding of the “Maxim” calorie-drink via a pole and a night swim to test my lights – after all, I expect to start in the small hours of the morning to catch the tide.

The Dover Swims and Scooba

2010-07-01T09:19:00.005+01:00

Since May 1st a handful of people have been meeting at Dover beach for the weekend swim camp sessions managed by Freda Streeter. It's only been a matter of 2 months, but I've been constantly surprised.

First surprise was the incredible pace at which things have changed since we started. For the first few weeks, the idea of being able to swim back-to-back swims of 6 hours or more each (never mind the Channel attempt itself), was simply not forseeable; the water was too cold following the abnormally long winter and the pace everyone seemed to be swimming at (and which seemed to be needed to have a chance of breaking through tides and currents), too fast to maintain. But here I am at the end of June with 4 such swims under my belt from the last 2 weekends.

Second surprise was how much good it would do to my confidence.

But the third and biggest surprise is the speed at which new friendships with other first timers have assumed an importance way beyond that which their brevity should merit. It's undoubtedly a lot to do with the fact that each new swim has increased in duration at a frightening rate, providing a nerve wracking journey in to the unknown in the hope of success but carrying the fear of gut-wrenching disappointment if not.

And so it came as an unimaginable shock to hear that just a few hours after chewing the fat with good new Antipodean friend and fellow first timer, Steve "Scooba" Driver, that he had died at his B&B on Sunday night.

Scoobs had been his usual perceptive generous self in terms of his praise and support for each of us and, in turn, with much relief we had delighted in being able to heap praise on him after his non-stop efforts to conquer the cold water and stay in for the full duration of the swims, had finally worked. A beautiful and fast swimmer, I was envious of his ability and saw it as cruel fate that his struggle with the cold had, in the prevous weekends, invariably forced him to retire for his own safety well before the end. Yet he never stopped coming back and, at last, with back-to-back 7 hour and 6 hour swims under his belt from the weekend, he was understandably and justifiably elated.

No one knows how much he put in to those swims, particularly the Sunday one, but he seemed fine and we both enjoyed chewing the fat and the food which Clodagh had brought to the beach, as the news filtered through of England going 2 down against Germany and we decided to take our time before wandering across to the town square to watch the rest of the match.
debacle .

2010-05-25T15:00:00.006+01:00

'So how's the training going?' is the frequent question. 'Don't ask!' is the frequent response, not because I am not grateful for the interest, but because I am finding it hard to be as up-beat as I'd like to be!

There's not a lot of similarity between my local 25 metre super-heated pool at Barnet Copthall, North London, and the big blue yonder. The main difference is not the salt or the waves, but the cold. So I have been champing at the bit to swap the pool for the sea since the New Year so that I can acclimatize to it.

Frustratingly the sea in Cornwall at Easter struggled to a lame 7 degrees and at Dover harbour, as it nears the end of May, it has only now crept up to 10/11 degrees. This limits hugely how long endurance sessions can last - still only 2 hours. Yet I know that at my speed I can't expect to complete the swim in much under 15 hours - that's assuming everything goes to plan.

I decided I would throw myself in to the Dover harbour training sessions run by Freda Streeter a.k.a. "The Channel General" and her team of "shingle stompers". The Dover experience is a humbling experience and a daunting one; I can't find enough praise or thanks for Freda and team who volunteer their time and expertese for free to help channel swimmer aspirants to achieve their dream.

If you were to have walked along the promenade at Dover harbour at noon after the 2 hour morning session, you would have been bemused to see a group of bobble-hatted swimmers, sitting on the beach in layer-upon-layer of clothing, shivering violently and trying desperately to warm up with thermos flasks of hot drinks, whilst other non-swimmers lay nearby gently roasting in the hot sun. And before you say 'so wear a wet suit', let me tell you that they're not allowed!

Getting the time to train is the hardest thing and it's with some envy that I hear from a number of the Channel aspirants also doing the training at Dover , that they've given up jobs to dedicate the time to training. If only!

For now I'll persevere swimming with the ducks in Hampstead Heath lido during the week and hoping that I can keep up with Freda's directions at the Dover weekends.

I know that now the sea has finally started thawing the duration of the swims will start climbing frighteningly quick. And the next job is to try to get my head round the training requirements, never mind the Channel attempt itself!

Windermere - September 2009

2010-03-17T18:39:00.000Z

The swim brought storms, though stayed mostly clear and, blessedly, the wind stayed south-westly/westerly, so we were not being blown backwards this time. The pre-swim brief warned us that the water temperature was unusually low; during the week snow landing as rain meant that the cold spots dropped to 15 or 14 degrees. I later learnt that around a third of the swimmers retired before the finish due to the cold.

Arriving in Windermere the night before the event, I had made sure to have a quick acclimatisation dip; I didn't know the temperature then, but felt it was markedly colder than in 2008, but the dip did the job and took away any nagging doubt for the morning about just how cold would it be.

Infact I was pleased that the cold didn't really affect me whilst I was swimming, only once I'd finished; the worst of it was swimming in to the cold patches in the shallower parts around the islands at the halfway stage - here cold springs flow in to the lake reducing the temperature still further.

As for my trusty crew in the support boat, I was in the hands of my fellow "Applelips Brothers" band members, Clamp (bass) and Dave (drums). The trip had already taken on a more surreal air than I'd expected, as Clamp and Dave had renamed themselves Hilary and Tsensing. Their far from lucid explanation for this seemed to stem from an excursion they had taken by foot in deep snow up an Austrian mountain 'because it was there'. During their trip they were suddenly and mysteriously met by a lady that they were convinced was Nepalese and undoubtedly an apparition, appearing as she did out of a blizzard seemingly from nowhere. They experienced an epiphany and immediately took it as a sign to start their descent to the base camp, immediately hitting the bar for their customary piccolo beer and shandy-chaser.

On the drive up to Windermere Dave - sorry - 'Tensing'(!), read out an article about claims of sightings of "Bownessie", the monster rumoured to be lurking in the depths of Lake Windermere. So I had added concerns that whilst gayly swimming along I might suddenly be rudely deserted, should Hilary and Tensing think they get a 'sighting'.

But Dave in particular had my respect; notwithstanding his near-sinking in the previous year, he was up for this 2nd attempt - cruel of me to take advantage of such a slow learner, I know! Dave had time to manage the video with one eye on his Cannes entry. He also marshalled everyone's feeding and the navigation(-ish), whilst Clamp recalled bygone days as a junior county rower and took the oars for the whole journey.

the swim was relatively uneventful, it has to be said.

Still in hero-explorer mode, the boys had planned to liven things up by making me pay homage to Captain Mathew Webb's swim in 1875; their plan was for me to mimick his feeding. However, I suggested I wait until near the end before eating a pork pie and swigging brandy! And as for wearing a 1 piece woollen bathing suite, I declined this suggestion altogether on the grounds it didn't comply with BLDSA race-rules. Anyway, that plan came to nought, as by the time I was ready to risk the pie and drink, Hilary and Tensing were wiping the last crumbs away, slightly the worse for wear.

And after 7 and a half hours I was officially announced at the finish and crawled from the water. [Note to self; gibbering to a local reporter after a 7.5 hour swim standing in one's budgie smugglers is no defence to becoming hypothermic, no matter how attractive she may be.]

Thanks also go to Kirsty, Clamp's better half, who got me dressed and made sure I didn't completely lose the plot.

2010-03-16T19:59:00.001Z

Quite simply some of the most beautiful waterways anywhere - Lough Erne, County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland. This was the site for my boating holiday in August 2009 and my audacious self-invitation to the open water Irish Championships - still not quite sure how I plucked up courage to do that. And what's more I was chuffed to bits to limp round the 17km course in 6 hours. It was an undeniably pedestrian time, but one which to me seemed utterly immaterial compared to the fact that I'd endured and finished in waters which I understand didn't get above 14 degrees C. And for that my eternal thanks go to Martin Cullen for allowing me to take part. Finished - not a moment too soon!

Dundee - my Tay "Dook" - June 2009

2010-03-15T16:37:00.001Z

This was a mad swim! 8 miles down the River Tay, starting just as the tide was turning. It took 2 hours of hard swimming and will linger in the memory forever. It was not just how welcoming everyone was that made it so memorable, but how crazy and exciting it was at the finish.

I had no idea how long I would take, but I thought it should be about 2 hours of hard swimming. I knew from the pre-swim brief that we were meant to touch the harbour wall to finish, otherwise we would not get a time and placing. I'd registered this dire warning, but there was no way of really understanding it until experienced at first hand.

The longer the swim goes on, the faster becomes the outgoing tide. By 2 hours it's at least 4 mph and certainly fast enough to sweep you past the harbour wall and on towards the North Sea!

I thought the line I'd taken towards the wall was pretty good, but with water in my goggles, I was struggling to see properly. I saw Dennis and Clodagh on my support boat were still gesturing wildly at me to get in more, yet this was confusing. Anyway, I did so and felt like I was almost swimming perpendicular to the current. Now the wall was looming up ahead and STILL I was a way out. I sprinted for all I was worth and saw the wall begin to race by, literally only a few feet away. To my horror I just couldn't brfeak through the current and the wall ended, but still I sprinted and, after what seemed like minutes, I managed to get in close enoughh just to start getting the shelter from the wall so that I could swim up to the back of it and climb out, exhausted, exasperated but elated!

Windermere September 2008

2010-03-14T18:19:00.005Z

I first tried to swim the length of Windermere with the BLDSA (British Long Distance Swimming Association)in 2008.

There was no disgrace when I was pulled from the water after about an hour and 40 minutes of flogging against a 5 foot swell (-who let the tide in? That's more like sea swimming!). The problem was that the rowing boats being used to support each each swimmer were starting to sink. So the race got cancelled and the ribs flew round pulling the swimmers from the water, like it or not.

And I have to say it left me with mixed feelings; the organisation and cost needed to get myself and crew up to Windermere from London and prepared for the gruelling swim was far from insignificant. Yet to be pulled out when conditions had already tempted large numbers to retire did save me wondering how long I could have gone on for.

I have since heard the Windermere swim described as the "Wimbledon" of the open water season, for the reason that it provides a reasonable bench mark for deciding whether to attempt the Channel or not. Whether that's right or not, I guess I will only be in a positin to judge after I've attempted the Channel. But after the race was aborted in 2008 and on the back of a similarly weather-trashed swimming-summer, I kept my secret dream of swimming the Channel, well, secret! I was just beginning to realise the size of the mountain to climb before I could dare to admit, even to myself, that I might try to attempt the Channel in the coming years.

Training for the Malta Charity Swim - May 2008

2010-03-14T18:11:00.005Z

I wrote this article for www.licensing.biz in April 2008 about the start of my open water training in Cornwall, January 2008, as licensing.biz were promoting the Light Fund and our team swim in Malta:

“Hey Dad, if you’re sinking, I’m not coming in after you – it’s bleeding freezing!”

And with those words ringing in my ears whilst my 15 year-old looked nervously down from the safety of his canoe at my dying swan impression, my first attempt at a practice open water swim over the Christmas period ended in ignominy and near disaster.

It all made sense at the time; revved up by the inspiring 'Swimming to Antartica' book by renowned open water swimmer, Lynne Cox, as well as the knowledge that it was only three short months since I had happily splashed around the same bay in Portscatho Cornwall, I had donned wetsuit, bribed my son to paddle alongside and had taken to the water to see just how far I had to go to be ready for the Malta open water swim.

As I wheezed and fought for breath in the cold water in an overly tight wetsuit (had I really put on ten pounds since the summer?), I began to wonder whether I was to pay the price for my over confidence. My life wasn’t quite flashing before me, but I was groping in vain to recall exactly why I had felt justified in telling our team leader and organiser, Stephen Gould, that I felt I was competent to be able to undertake the Malta open water challenge.

Particularly hard to bear was the thought ‘you’re only as good as your last match’. As I floated on my back to try and calm the rising panic and racing heart, the bitter truth was that this WAS my last match and not the exaggerated fitness levels I had enjoyed last summer whilst training for and running in the RMHC Yorkshire 3 Peaks challenge.

As January started, I could barely swim more than a couple of lengths without my chest closing up. So I set myself a target to ‘sort things out’ by the end of January; if by that time I had not drastically turned things around, then I would sheepishly have to make my excuses and bail out of the swim, knowing that, at my age, this might be my last chance to something like this.

I changed my diet. I changed to hypoallergenic bedding. I turned to alternative medicine and acquired a ‘salt pipe’. I went to the doctor and started the antibiotics. Finally, I bullied myself to go jogging to try and force my lungs to clear. I went when it was dark along deserted paths and fields, sinking in mud up to my ankles, wheezing and coughing and stopping constantly.

My wife wasn’t impressed: “well I suppose if you’re having a mid life crisis, I should be grateful it’s this and not a younger woman”. As I looked in the wall mirror having just crawled through the door after another attempted run, glowing like a lobster and looking every bit the escapee from somewhere very secure (but not secure enough), I had to acknowledge the sarcasm was justified and that ‘the younger woman’ whoever she was would no doubt be running in the opposite direction from me (and a hell of a lot faster), if she were to set eyes on me now.

But things did slowly improve. By the end of January, I was coping with the pool again.

In February, thanks to the helpful advice from John Coningham-Rolls, our trainer from Swim Trek and himself a cross channel swimmer who clearly knows a thing or two about open water swimming, I started working on my technique.

The idea I am told behind improving technique is not to look good – it’s simply to be able to draw more water with less effort so as to maintain a better pace for longer. What I hadn’t realised until John, and later Stephen, helpfully broke down the correct stroke technique, is that it’s so involved. The best analogy I can think of for trying to change your stroke while swimming, is like trying to hit a golf ball after having your swing pulled apart and rebuilt. Trying to think about the bits that need changing as you’re doing them is a sure fire way of the other 'okay' bits abruptly disintegrating - frustrating when golfing, but downright hazardous when swimming, particularly as the breathing-timing is usually the first thing to go!

So it’s been a shaky start, but I am now half a stone lighter and feeling more confident again. I am swimming 3km three or four times a week, having worked out that by going first thing in the morning when I haven’t time to wake up properly, at least only the session is painful and not the build up to it as well.

I even get the odd moment when an inexplicable wave of optimism hits me and I start to muse that I might fit that wetsuit better now and may be it’s time to take to the sea again. Up to now I’ve reacted by thinking about just how cold the sea will be at the moment and, in case this isn’t enough, I recall my son’s horrified face looking down at my last attempt. For now, this has countered any remaining urge to confront those demons again! For now, that is.

How It started

2010-02-27T18:44:00.003Z

...In a pub of course, like many of the maddest ventures! And why 'mad'? Well, if you care to read on I'll get to what I've found out about swimming the English Channel and why it isn't an activity to be undertaken by the feint hearted, under-prepared or - let's face it- sane!

But first, let me take you back to the summer of 2007, when I was asked to join a Charity Swim week in Malta for the brandlicensing industry, organised by Stephen Gould, then MD of 4Kids Entertainment. I said 'yes'.

Ever since, I've had cause to reflect upon the dodgy commitments through the ages which have been made in pubs; press gangs, plots to overthrow parliament and now my induction in to the open water swimming fraternity.

My Charities

2010-02-25T14:05:00.006Z

I am raising funds for 2 charities and all donations kindly made will be split between them:

The Light Fund who are donating the funds raised to the charity Friends of Pitcheroak special school in Redditch, Worcs.

The Light Fund is the brand licensing industry's charitable fund raising body who donate all funds collected on to registered charities selected by the Committee. They are a marvellous group supporting less well-known charities who find it hard to raise funds, like Friends of Pitcher Oak Special School, for example.

The Friends is a registered charity which supports the Redditch-based school of that name in ways which bridge the significant gaps in State funding. The school is simply amazing - I was humbled when I walked round it with Michael, my son, who was accepted there a year ago after 9 years of battling. But the sad truth is that he was lucky for 2 reasons; not only was Michael able to trial, and be trialled by, Pitcher Oak on a part-time basis whilst still at his mainstream school without funding from a statement of needs, but he was also able to share a lift between the schools with somebody else who already had the funding to do this. Pitcher Oak was able to use Michael's trial to help push through an emergency statement of needs for Michael and he is now happy at school for the first time ever. At my request, the Friends will look to earmark your donations towards a fund to help trial other children in the same position as Michael.

Ronald McDonald House Charities (RMHC) - an independent charity providing free 'home away from home' accommodation at hospitals across the UK, enabling families to stay close to their seriously ill children and maintain a normal degree of family life.

The angst of having a seriously ill child in hospital is increased tenfold if it's a hospital far from home. Often, in such situations, parents are forced to sleep on hospital chairs or floors, or can’t be there for their sick child because of the need to look after other children. RMHC provides an impressive offering across the nation of no-strings-attached on-site accommodation for families for as long they need it, be it two days or two years. RMHC is an entirely independent charity and is run beautifully - they take extreme pride in making sure donations make a difference and aren't swallowed up with red tape and poor and expensive administration. The Charity has achieved a lot in the last 20 years. Fourteen Ronald McDonald Houses have been built which, along with 29 sets of Ronald McDonald Family Rooms, provide over 400 bedrooms every single night of the year. However, there is still a great deal to do. Many families do still have to sleep on camp beds or in their cars in order to be close to their children, and RMHC is determined to help as many of these as possible.