At one time the channel rules stated that you must "walk
into the water
unaided, swim across the channel, and walk out unaided on the other
side"
to make the swim official. There were several cases where the swimmer
reached
the other side and found themselves facing a sheer white cliff. Since
they
could not "walk ashore," they had to swim for hours until they reached
a beach. This rule has been changed.
"We do not expect our swimmers to be mountain climbers,"
stated the
channel swimming chairman, Ray Scott. A swimmer is now allowed to
simply
touch the cliff and officially complete his or her swim.
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It's totally dark. The only thing I can see through my
goggles is
the blurred glow from the ship's spotlight. If I keep that circle of
light
just off my left shoulder, I know that I am centered on the starboard
side
of the Helen Ann Marie. I would estimate the wave action at a Force 4
1/2
or 5. I can't understand why the water is so choppy. We're allowed to
swim
on the sheltered side of the vessel and this has worked to our
advantage
so far. When I passed Jason in the water during our changeover, he said
he was feeling a little chilly and hoped he didn't have to swim again.
I can feel cramps forming in my legs. I'm sure this is from standing on
the boat deck for 10 hours. I simply could not sit down while my family
was swimming, so I paced this deck, checking those on board, and then
calling
encouragement to the one in the water.
In the recorded history of the Channel Swimming Association,
there have
been two fatalities. In one case, a male swimmer just simply
disappeared
while swimming and was never found. In the other case, the swimmer died
of hypothermia. His trainer left him in the water too long. Sometimes
you
cannot tell you are in trouble, until your heart just stops beating.
-
I don't know what is happening aboard the ship. The sea
is very rough;
I'm having problems swimming into the waves. I can't see anyone at the
boat's railing. If they cannot get Harry prepared in time to relieve
me,
all we have done so far will be wasted. I know that no one will quit,
but
if he's not coming then he must be seriously ill. Three miles off the
French
coast in a rough sea at night is no place to have a major medical
problem.
When the waves raise me up level with the deck I'm trying catch a
glimpse
of some type of activity near the wheelhouse, but I can't see anything
there, except darkness. I don't even know how long I've been in the
water.
I presume that if we are disqualified, they'll be bringing me on board.
When I was in Puerto Rico planning our swims, I assumed that
the relay
would be the easier of the two events (solos and relay) to accomplish.
All of my family are excellent competitive swimmers, and a couple of
one-hour
dips in the ocean did not seem like much of a task when talking about
it
in sunny San Juan. However, once I was in Dover and started to analyze
the variables and obstacles that could occur during a 12-hour period in
the channel, I became convinced that if we completed the relay it would
be a far greater feat than any solo swim, definitely a world-class
achievement.
-
8:30 p.m. Fifth swimmer, second round: Harry Jr.
My hands are shaking so badly that I'm spilling my hot
coffee
on them. I'm on board now watching Harry Jr. swimming freestyle like
his
life depended on it. He relieved me, almost magically appearing at the
ladder, completely covered with a thick coat of white channel grease.
Al
the team was there, telling me to get out, that Harry was taking over.
He jumped in, swam by me and disappeared around the bow of the idling
boat.
I didn't know what was going on, just that my hour was up. When I
started
to breaststroke to the boat, both my legs cramped, and I was hanging on
the ladder when the boat started to move! I just did manage to pull
myself
on board the rolling and pitching boat. It took me a few seconds to
realize
that everyone, including the observer, Ray, was looking over the
railing
on the opposite side of the boat. I went over and looked into the
blackened
sea and saw my son, Harry, stroking madly away in a relatively calm
ocean!
Apparently that crazy channel tide and wind has abruptly changed 180
degrees,
and we are being blown and pushed inside Cap Griz Nez. Reggie tells me
that we are only a little more than two miles from France. Because of
the
wind shift, my side of the boat has become rough, while the port, or
left,
side, the one Harry is on now, has become relatively calm. (Page
9)
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