Graeme swam the Channel on the 27th September 2008 in 11 hours and 45 minutes

Saturday 27th September 2008 

We left home for the weekend of the big swim at about 7 am in the morning and my mother, wife and myself travelled down to Dover for my last training session before the big day. Arrived on the beach and the weather was idyllic, clear skies and the temperature rising all the time. As it was the last training weekend of the season and most the 2008 Channel Aspirants had already done their swims there were only about 4 of us swimming today. I was sent in for a two hour swim as I was due to swim the channel the following day, I got bored after about  hour and 48 minutes and got the standard rollicking from Freda but this time she was prepared to cut me some slack, she must be getting soft in her old age. Today there were two seals in the harbour that were playing with the swimmers, I sadly was not fortunate enough to come into contact with them like some of the other swimmers who were getting their toes nibbled by them and had a good play with them, but they did come pretty close, I put it down to the deodorant that I was wearing.

After this we sat on the beach and had some lunch whilst watching the other swimmers getting harassed by the seals it was pretty comical. Later my family and I went up onto the cliffs so that I could show them what I had opted to do and on this day, the weather was very hazy so we could not see France. Later a couple of old family friends from Zimbabwe joined us and we had a bit of a catch up with them. At about three o’clock I decided that it might be pertinent to go and have a bit of sleep ahead of my swim the following day, a bit of a pointless exercise as I just sat there tossing and turning for two hours. I then got out of bed and went down to see where my wife was as she had been set off to attack the shops.

By this time some friends from London had come down to watch me leave Britain temporarily so we had a few drinks with them and then set off to find some food at one of the local eating establishments. We had dinner and then went to the hotel pub for a few nightcaps and some more friends arrived. I sadly left them to it so I could try and get some sleep and also my lovely wife had to mix up some turbo juice for me for the following day.

Sunday 28th September 2008 The Big Day 

• Greg Woods             (Fellow channel Swimmer and training partner)
• Spencer Schlachter (Pygmy Hippo and the reason I did this mad thing)
• Mandy Schlachter     (Mama Hippo, half the reason I exist)
• Brian Schlachter       (Papa Hippo, the other half of the reason I exist)
• Rachelle Schlachter   (Mrs Zimhippo, My rock when I need it)

I awoke at about 4.45 am and went and sat on the promenade gazing over my goal for the day and had a bit of an emotional moment to myself and sat there taking in the views and trying to get my brain around what I was shortly to undertake.

At about 7 o’clock I phoned some of my friends who had left London at 5.30 to drive to Dover to see where they were and they had already arrived at Shakespeare beach, the beach I thought I would be leaving from, so I told them to come and join me for a coffee at the hotel. By this time other people had started to arrive so we all met and had a bit of a chin wag in the car park whilst others still arrived and then at about 8.30 we went down to the harbour to meet up with my pilot and boat.

Oblivious as to what was happening around me, when I finished, I subsequently learned that one of my mad hatter friends had stripped off to his smalls on the beach and rushed in after me shouting, “don’t worry Graeme I will save you.”

He swam after me for about 100m and then his brain started working  and he realised man this is cold and he wasn’t catching me so he turned back and headed to the shore.

A good chuckle for all on the beach and the boat. Thanks Doug we can always rely on you to lift the spirit a bit.

An hour after my start I was going well, stroke rate up at about 75 strokes a minute then it was in for a feed which was a bit of a botch up but I managed to feed alright. I set off again after about 30 seconds floating in the water for my feed and headed in the direction of France again. My stroke rate had come down a bit to about 70 strokes a minute

There were other boats with swimmers that were near me and I was caught up by a guy from Holland, doing a solo swim, he overtook me but didn’t leave me behind, we both caught up to another  solo swimmer that I  had befriended over the summer after about an hour and half and out ahead of us there was a relay team, the Dublin Fire Brigade, who were doing a 2 way crossing, fuelled only by Guinness and beer, if what I saw going onto their boat was anything to go by. Sadly the two solo swimmers swims were terminated at 5 hours and 9 hours respectively, I think the alcohol fuelled Irish made it.

My stroke rate was now at about 66-68 stokes per minute and had been for the last two hours and continued like this until about my last hour. At this point in my swim, my shoulders were aching, my groin was in agony and my back was also hurting. My neck had started chaffing and would have been a lot worse if it were not for Greg telling me to breath every three strokes alternate sides, I have always favoured my right side and I usually breathe every stroke. My focus had switched from swimming the channel to blocking out all this pain that I was experiencing. The feeds became longer and if you stopped moving your arms for about 10 seconds they started to seize up so feeding was now taking place doing side stroke.  

The rest of the crossing went off smoothly, I think the only time I faltered was after I had swum about 8 and a half hours ( the longest I had ever swum before this was 8 hours) My mind went to mush and my inner voice said to me “ I don’t think you can do this mate!”

I stopped for a few seconds, shed some tears and then thought of all my family – they had not flown half way around the world to come on a boat and watch their son fail this challenge!  Why I am doing this? – I still haven’t worked out the answer to that question,  All the hard work I had done to get this far and the fact that there was no ways I wanted to face the abuse from my friends. At this point I convinced my waning mind that the only way they get me out of this channel is if I am being airlifted to A&E. This left my mind with two choices, Swim to France or wake up in a hospital! Thankfully it succumbed and figured out that swimming to France was the easiest option.

Well after that little blip I found new reserve to carry on. I say about 8 and half hours in the paragraphs above I only found this out from my crew at the end. As the swimmer you do not have a clue how far you have swum, what the time is, what the distance to France is, or how you are getting on with the tides. Trying to get this information out of my crew and pilot was like trying to draw blood from a brick. The only information you get out of them is, “ put your head down and swim”. 

The sun was now setting and the night was closing in, it may have been cold out there but I didn’t care anymore. At the next feed I swapped my goggles for a clear pair as I had been swimming with dark ones all day, I also needed a light on my head so the pilot would not lose me.

It was dark and I did not know the time and at one of my feeds I was told they could see the coast of France, I must admit that did not really cheer me up as I know how lights can travel over water and even though my crew could see the lights of France that could still be another 5 hours for me. We pressed on anyway stopping to feed about every 45 minutes, little was said at the feeds apart from me swearing at my crew especially when the boat drifted slightly ahead of you and you got caught in the exhaust fumes of the boat. My dad Shouted to me, “are the fumes getting to you?” My response to him was 

“Everything is F%&*ing getting to me!!!”

Then I had a feed and was told, okay that irritating green flashing light that you have been following for a while is Cap Griz Nez and if you push it now we are taking you in. That was music to me ears, I asked if I would be landing on rocks or a beach and was told we don’t know.  With new resolve, my stoke rate went up to about 70 strokes a minute again and I was off. I could see the light house and I could also see a blackish horizon but, the lighthouse was on the wrong side of me so I started thinking, well they want me to push it but that lighthouse is on my wrong side so I might miss the cap so I think my stroke rate went up ever higher. After about 40 minutes of this my whole body ached and my skills of blocking out pain were wearing thin.

I considered stopping and telling my pilot to give it to me straight, am I going to make France or have I missed the Point? Because, if I had missed the point, I could not carry on at this pace for much longer.  Well I didn’t stop as the information to me from the boat about my whereabouts thus far had been slim to say the least and I would probably not get an answer off them anyway. I pushed on, I could see a huge cliff type horizon looming somewhere up ahead of me, at the top I could see the lighthouse, it was not long before I felt something touch my feet and I looked around and there were some more flashing lights around me, my brother and Greg had jumped in to take me to shore. The boat then put on a spotlight and pointed it at the cliff and the sight that greeted my eyes both elated me and shocked me. Elation in that I had nearly made it, shock in that I now had to clamber over these huge boulders at the base of the cliff in order to get out onto French soil, or rocks in this case.

Spencer and Greg were just there to help me if I needed any or I slipped for some reason and also to let me know when I had finished as I clambered up onto the one rock and thought I HAVE DONE IT. But the rock that I was sitting on still had water lapping over it so I had to then move to a rock further in, plunging into the ocean again to finally clamber up onto that Damned Rock. Once on the rock and standing up the siren sounded to denote the end of the hardest mental and physical day of my life.

Greg, Spencer and I sat on the rocks for a few minutes and I was in tears. 

I went downstairs to go and get changed and very promptly had to run above deck to feed the fish. I had not been sick or ill the whole swim and it took me no more than 5 minutes on the boat to deposit the contents of my stomach overboard. I think it was just all the Maxim juice that my body had and now I was not expending any energy, my body just wanted to get rid of it.

I tried eating some solid foods but my mouth and my tongue were all swollen and very sore so I didn’t eat much, just went to bed and slept for an hour or so.

Some time after midnight we arrived back in Dover harbour and much to my joy, some of the entourage that had watched me leave the same harbour 15 hours earlier were there with Champagne and to help us offload the boat. Another person who was there to see me back was Freda, the legend that is also known as the Channel General and my pilots, Alison Streeter’s, mother, she selflessly gives up every weekend of the summer, come rain or shine, to train Channel swimmers in Dover harbour. I will always admire her and her family.

Well after unpacking and packing cars we sat in the car park drinking Champagne until about 2 am when we decided that it was time to move on.   Spencer and I had to be at work in a couple of hours  so the two of us and my wife Rachelle left for London whilst my parents and the rest of the clan went off to the hotel for a few hours nap. 

All in all I can think of better things to do for 11 hours and 45 minutes on a Sunday but none that come anywhere near as rewarding.