Article 033h (Page 8) c.1988
 
 
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.
    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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