Bluetit 1 Channel Relay Swim Team.

Taking on a challenge
One of my great pleasures in life is taking on a challenge just to see if I can get to the start line. I also love watching and enthusing others to conquer fears, take on a challenge, inspire other people to have a go at something, find strengths they didn't know they possessed etc, so our channel attempt with a team of mixed ability swimmers meant the world to me....eventually.

I am often asked what it was like to cross the channel and my answer is "character building". When you are in the moment of any challenge you are fuelled by adrenalin, and the negative things that happen are sorted with the superpowers you never knew you had. When you are sitting in a nice comfy environment with someone who is asking about 'the bad bits' they are not full of adrenalin and ready to draw on their superpowers, so those 'bad bits' just sound horrendous and impossible to cope with. I will therefore never dwell on 'the bad bits' of any challenge or demand your sympathy by telling you about the various physical obstacles some people overcome to attempt a challenge, that's not my way. Video clips of a moment can give the viewer the impression that whatever is going on in them looks easy or difficult...further enhanced by the choice of audio. The reality of what is portrayed in said clip is often very different.

In this blog I shall attempt to inspire you with my tale of becoming a channel relay swimmer and not horrify you with too many gory details!

How it came about
The initial idea for a Bluetit channel swim relay team came about in 2020 when Makala Jones, Bluetit director/swim coach, announced she would like to put a team together. After some thought she then decided she would like take on a solo challenge first so the idea was put on the back burner. In 2021 Laura chatted to Makala about the prospect of a relay crossing, the idea was welcomed with open arms, and within the week Laura had found a pilot for 2024 and five people who voiced interest with varying levels of enthusiasm.

I liked the idea, but was not convinced I was capable of such a mammoth challenge. My swim ability was ok, but after many years of taking on hefty challenges I wasn’t really sure I wanted another one.
Time passed and I got swept up with all the chatter from the other potential team members, so I agreed I would give it a go.

The qualifier
Moving swiftly on to November 2023 and the day arrived to attempt my 2 hour qualifier in 12 degree water. All the other team members, bar one, (daughter Jemeima who had been dragged late onto the team kicking and screaming) had completed theirs in slightly warmer water, but due to work commitments and lack of enthusiasm, I had procrastinated, and therefore 12 degree water it was for me.

It was a cold dull November day, the water in Goodwick harbour was grey and murky. I was not in a good mood at all. Jackie, Jess, Eva and Laura came along to swim with me, even though they had completed their qualifier. I was very grateful, but not convinced I would have been as enthusiastic to get into that water to support them had that particular shoe been on my frozen foot. At that very moment of entry into the water I did not want to be there. I didn’t want to take on this challenge anymore, I was miserable and totally unconvinced I could sustain life in
12 degree water for two hours.

My mind jumped back to February 2018 when I was strong enough physically and mentally to take on an Ice Mile in 4.3 degree water. I was a warrior then, or so I thought. I had trained for three long years to attempt that mile and had wanted it so badly. Here I was now in 2023 disappointed with myself standing on that slipway, with my self doubt and lack of enthusiasm for the challenge ahead.
With encouragement from Makala, the ever persuasive and supportive swim coach and friend, and all the other team members present, I eventually got in....whinging.

I tried to get out of that water many times. Physically I was fine, chilly, but fine. Mentally I just didn’t want to be there at any point in that two hours. With support I did it and was relieved when it was over, but then convinced more than ever that my brain wasn’t ready for a channel attempt.

The doubt
Time passed again and I hung on in there. I questioned what was wrong with me. All the other team members where so enthusiastic for this challenge, which was booked for June 2024. None of them (bar Makala) had ever taken on such a feat of endurance and I, once a queen of the endurance have a go hero crowd, couldn’t understand why I was so negative and they were all buzzing. I convinced myself that maybe that was it. I had experienced many endurance events and I kind of knew what lay ahead. I was also struggling with my swim stroke. I could swim, but I was very slow and never seemed to get any more efficient or faster in the water.

Enter Makala, swim coach and all round enthusiastic friend.

The training
This was the turning point for me and the reaffirmation of what I have always preached... that with a little support and guidance we are all capable of achieving things we never thought possible.

Makala arranged pool coaching sessions for all of us throughout the winter of 2023-4 and took us outdoors to swim in the chilly Pembrokeshire sea. She was always there encouraging, coaching, offering her shoulder to scream on. She told me to shut up when I whinged, told me I was amazing and filmed me swimming to try convince me of such. Slowly but surely my mind set changed and I started to believe I could become a valid member of channel relay swim team.

The team also started to gel of course. Many hours spent together training and talking the kind of shite I love to talk about after dipping was paying off. The team dynamics fascinated me. We always had something or someone to whinge about or heap praise on. Who was ‘in’ or who was a pain in the backside changed daily. There were definitely times when I wondered if we would all manage to make it to the start line. We were a ramshackle bunch of very different ability and aged humans who had jobs, family, pets, ordinary lives, to lead around the times we got together to train. Getting us all in the same place at the same time was pretty impossible, and we rarely managed it. Towards the end of our training this was a concern for most of us, convinced that we hadn’t done enough together to swim as a team.

The wait
On June 9th we set off towards Deal in Kent. Our window for the swim was 10th-16th June and as we all had an eight hour journey from Pembrokeshire, we went down a few days before hand to settle into our home for the next week.
Little did we know this time we would spend together all holed up in a glorious house in Deal, was were the real team bonding would take place. Away from the ordeals of everyday life and full of anticipation and downright fear of what lay ahead, we gave in to fate and totally relaxed in each others company. We ate mounds of Chinese food and just about spent our entire food kitty on glorious treats from Sainsbury’s in the first two days. We went off on bus rides and ate sandwiches on the pebbles in Dover, constantly refreshed the weather App whilst looking out over the English Channel, and eagerly awaiting news from our pilot,
Stuart Gleeson.

Here we go
That news came at 7pm Tuesday 11th June. The words “its a go” were met with squeals of anticipation and delight. We checked our bags for the umpteenth time, set our alarm clocks and headed off for four hours of totally interrupted sleep. Midnight came and the house was awoken by seven alarm tones. There was general silence interspersed by swear words and then we were off into the darkness.

Unexpected road diversions caused a little stress and brought on some motion sickness for some as we weaved our way towards Dover along winding back lanes.
Dover marina was a busy place at whatever ungodly hour it was. Cars unloaded their channel swim contenders with their mounds of luggage and boat engines hummed, but strangely there was general air of calm about the place.

We had all accepted our fate by now, so when the time came we calmly stepped onto our boat, Sea Leopard, and after a safety briefing we slowly motored out through the flat calm marina water and into the darkness beyond with the fleet of other piloted boats.
As Dover marina became a glow in the distance the swell picked up and we rock’n’rolled our way through the darkness towards Samphire Hoe. All silent, bar Makala and Eva who were far too cheery for my liking. They were unfazed by the reality of this wet, cold, dark environment, but for the rest of us it had now sunk in very deep. Samphire Hoe ahead and the engines were cut.

Makala
With massive marauding butterflies in her belly threatening to obliterate her nerves of steel, Makala prepared to plunge into the 14 degree water cloaked in darkness and make her way toward the pebbles, alight from the water, raise her hand, wait for the horn and begin the crossing.

Boom..and we were off.

Our spirits lifted, we were doing this thing, and for a moment all waswell in the world. No more waiting, no more wondering. We were doing it, it was really happening.

Jemeima
As Makala's hour drew to a close Jemeima prepared to plunge into the dark water to begin her hour. Unlike Makala, who had experienced this before, it was a first for Jemeima and the rest of us who followed her.
Her eyes were wide and the colour drained form her face as she pulled down her goggles and stared out into the glow of the boat light that was tracking Makala. This was the first moment I became acutely aware she was my daughter. She is an adult, but in that moment she was my baby girl and my heart ached for her. It briefly flashed though my mind that I might have to be a caring mother and a nervous team member on that crossing, and the selfish me was momentarily horrified by that thought. It also crossed my mind that this incredible young human who has always looked up to me and been party to many adventures with me as a child, instigating and orchestrating many of them, was going to witness her mother unravelling in the next fifteen hours and have to escort the mere shell of the mother she has always shown the greatest respect for, back to shore in a broken state. Oh the thoughts that passed through my terrified mind.

In she popped and all was well in the world once more.

Makala was now high on adrenalin and bopped away with Eva to one of the 225 music tracks we had so enjoyed choosing in our cosy house in Deal, Eye of The Tiger, Diamonds, I’m Every Woman, Roar..you get the drift.
The rest of us tried to be upbeat, but the swell continued to rock the boat and as the waves got bigger and a little white froth appeared on the tops, we were beginning to turn a shade of green.

Waiting in the wings for their turns, Laura was as quiet as a mouse, Jess looked pensive, Jackie smiled her caring ‘we got this (I hope)’ smile and I tried not to think about being sick whist growling at Makala and Eva for being too bloody happy.

Jemeima was done and flew up the boat ladder like a ninja. All smiles and aglow with success from the completion of her first hour.

Laura
The sun began to rise from the east and the street lights of Dover glowed in the distance. The flotilla of boats that had all begun their day in a relative cluster around Samphire Hoe had now dispersed. We were all underway, most of them already covering more water than we had. It was Lauras turn to tackle the waves. This trojan of a woman was now very much feeling the effects of the swell. Having never been sea sick before after many years working on tourist boats around the Pembrokeshire coast, this sensation took her by surprise. I call her ‘Trojan’ because in she went, feeling as sick as a dog after a stolen chocolate cake, but there was a steely look of determination in her eyes. She swam her swim, got out and fell into a sick induced sleep on the boat bean bag that we had all mused over then we got on the boat.

A bean bag on a boat? How weird we thought.

This bean bag proved to be a life saver and I highly recommend them for warming up and recovering after a chill dip.

Eva
Next in was ‘Mumma Eva’. A woman who is a natural born carer of humans and all things living. Your no fuss and nonsense person. Shut up, get it done, enjoy the moment oozes from her very being.
She battled the waves and rode them like a pro, sometimes veering off in a direction the pilot did not approve of, but nonetheless, she came up the ladder an hour later uttering the words ‘that was bloody amazing!”

Jess
Next into the breach dear friends, was Jess. The baby of the team. A mere 21 years old and unable to get her head in the water to execute an efficient front crawl before she started training for this challenge.

She bravely chose to swim on the side of the boat opposite to her breathing side to take advantage of the shelter from the boat.
Admittedly the sea was calmer on the right side of the boat but I was now starting to get very jittery about the prospect of me being pressured to do the same. My confidence at being able to swim in a straight line without sight of the boat was not great.
Jess completed her hour with aplomb, got out and took her turn on the bean bag.

Jackie
Jackie next into the deep blue sea. She also chose to go onto the leeward side of the boat, which impressed and terrified me in equal measure.
Jackie had her own battles to fight with her mobility issues. There were many times throughout training that she questioned her physical ability to continue being part of the team. The questions arose, were answered and then put to bed time and time again, standard for Jackie with her dogged determined nature.

The boat rocked, the waves rolled, and she ploughed on through them, occasionally veering off on a right angle turn towards Wales, only changing course after much screaming from those able to function aboard the boat. The moment to climb the ladder arrived and with help from her team members and the glorious channel swimming association invigilator, Simon, she was back on board glowing with the satisfaction she had well and truly earned.

Me
And then it was me. I had now watched my other six team members complete the ‘change over’ and it looked simple enough, until you actually had to complete it I discovered.
The change over is the moment where the pilot cuts the engines to allow the boat to sit idle in the water for enough time for one swimmer to get down the ladder, enter the water and swim up to the swimmer currently in the water. Once the swimmer who has just competed their hour sees the next swimmer alongside them they have to make their way back to the boat and climb the ladder. It is at this point the pilot powers up the engines again and off we go. This is a precarious moment for the ever vigilant pilot as they have no control of the boat without its engine power. 

Zero control of a boat and two people under your care in the water does not a happy pilot make. They need the handover to be swift and uneventful. There is no place for dithering or whinging about cramp and the need to wee from divas like me. Getting down the ladder is fairly uneventful, it was getting my cramping hefty
body back up the fecker at speed that still gives me nightmares.

Changeover completed and I was on my way. I decided I would rather a rough ride than not being able to see the boat, so into the rodeo I went.
It was thrilling! The sea was an azure blue, clear as gin and felt warm and comforting. The boat rocked along side me and I wondered what they were all up to on board as I could see laughing smiling faces and the occasional boob branded over the gunwale along with a few middle finger gestures. I became acutely aware that the swimmer watches everything in great detail when they are in the water. If no one interacts with you there is a feeling of being all alone in there. A simple thumbs
up or a bare boob waggled in your general direction makes the world of difference.

I was loving it all until cramp took hold of my legs in the remaining ten minutes of my hour. Vile cramp that dogs my every long distance swim in cold water in my old age. I was grateful to be hauled back on board when the hour was up, but aglow with success and in awe of how I loved my hour in the water.

Round two
Round two begun with Makala in the water again, followed in succession by the rest of the team in the order that was decided based on everyones individual swimming ability.
Before I want off for my bean bag hug I noticed that grey clouds had gathered overhead and the waves had now got much bigger. A feeling of gloom overcame me. This was enhanced by hunger and tiredness, but nonetheless, I was so overcome with a feeling that this attempt was going to be pulled. So I drifted off to sleep with an uneasy mind and the feeling of dread that this might soon be all over.

Two hours later I stirred from my deep sleep wondering where I was and why was I so damn hot? As I emerged from deep within the beanbag-DDIPP-robe fug I squinted at the bright sunlight shining down on me. The sun had come out and the sea was flat and glassy. One of the 225 tracks was playing and there was a party feel to the boat. Albeit a slightly hungover party feel, but the mood was definitely buoyant.

I ate some food, smiled a lot more than I had dared to before and for the first time felt that we might actually cross this bloody channel.

Alas, that feeling was not very long lived.

France looms
We reached the point in the challenge where the tide was due to turn. The French coastline was now more prominent than the English coastline. There is a point in the middle where you feel very much in no mans land, but we had crossed that now and France was looming ahead in the distance.
Its just there, I thought. Surly we will make it now?

Ah, well, not necessarily.

Such is the nature of the channel you have to really concentrate and swim with purpose towards the French shore when the tide turns. The tidal currents want to take you up the channel, not towards the coast, so you have to keep swimming toward the coast and hope you touch down on and bit of French land before the current whisks you up towards Calais.

This is a very simplistic explanation. I'm sure there are much more detailed ones, but at this point this is all I understood or cared about.
It was at this point that our pilot confided in Makala and suggested that we were not going to make it in the current tidal situation.
She could have emerged from the wheelhouse and told us we were finished, but she didn't. In her usual upbeat nature she emerged all smiles and told us we needed to crack the feck on and pull out any remaining stops we had left if we were to make land that day.

And just like that, we did.

The music blared, six weary swimmers sang their hearts out for the seventh in the water, boobs, unleashed form the constraints of damp swim suits, bounced merrily over the gunwales, flags flew over head, pictures were taken and, oh my, did we swim for our lives.

Jess licked away on her mint cake and mouthed ‘I love you’ to the swimmers, Jemeima puked over the side and got straight back onto jiggling to the beat of I’m Every Woman, Jackie flew the flag and sang her tits off, Eva kept everyone warm and fed, Laura swam her swim like a woman possessed, Makala kept telling everyone they were amazing and I shit my pants screaming ‘Eva, Eva, Eva!’ at the top of my voice.

Second speed
It was a great few hours where we dug deep, found our humour and engaged our second speed. I always wondered what that meant when channel swimmers talked about their ‘second speed’. Well now I experienced it first hand, and it was fabulous to watch.
We had been told that when you could see the windows on the French houses you were going to make it. We could see those flaming windows for a very long time!

Now I’m not one for engaging in magical, mystical theories, but I will hold my hand up to falling hook line and sinker for what happened in the last hour of our challenge. The tide was due to take us up the channel and we were battling to make it comfortably toward ‘The Cap’, the bit of land that juts out into the sea that is a convenient landing spot for many. Then it happened. The sea seemed to stop in its tracks and all went still and moody. Eva swam through a very defined line that appeared between a misty haze and clear skies, and a seal popped right up in front of us, appearing to quizzically ask what on earth were we doing?

We saw French fishermen going about their daily hum drum business and experienced that weird feeling you get when you are on the cusp of achieving something you deem to be extraordinarily but you are surrounded by people who give not one jot about you as they are simply trying to get though their ordinary work day.
"Make the most of this” we were told, swim swim swim! We screamed for Eva to keep swimming in a straight line, the straight line towards France PLEASE! We allowed ourselves to bask in a moment of premature glory and we screamed some more. Then silently and without fuss, one of the pilots donned his buoyancy aid and slipped into the tender we had been towing from Dover. Makala noticed, of course she did, she knew what this meant, where the rest of us were oblivious to its significance.

We were going to make it.

The pilot tried with all the will in the world to steer Eva towards the rocky shore ahead, and steer her he did. She landed Bluetit 1 team on Cran Poulet 17 hours and 24 minutes after we left Samphire Hoe that morning.

The corks popped from the non alcoholic bottles of fizz, pictures were taken and a few pasties were greedily consumed before the three hour journey home into the sunset began.

Back in Dover seven weary swimmers bade farewell to three weary crew and made the thirty minute journey back to Deal.
I awoke the next morning at 8am, shot up out of bed and screamed “We are channel relay swimmers!”

It was the best feeling in the world.

Would I do it again?

No! was the answer half way across the channel.

Absolutely! was the answer at 8am the following morning.

Bluetit 2 team will attempt their channel crossing in June 2025.

Having Bluetit 2 on board and ready to go and Bluetit 3,4 and 5 waiting in the wings makes me immensely proud of this community we have all nurtured.

Everyones challenge, depending on where they are in life, is different.
For some the mere though of putting on swim attire is horrific.
Then they do it, they find the strength from wherever and in they go.
They might only ever stick to social dipping. HOORAH TO THAT!
Or they might find that their new found courage leads them onto entering a 50 mtr heat at a fun, relaxed Bluetit swim event. AMAZING!
Then they might go for a 200mtr heat, a kilometre swoosh, a mile around a lake with a silly hat on, take up some swimming lessons.
Confidence is usually something you gain from the experience of doing a thing. Once you have done ‘the thing’ the veil that once covered the seemingly impossible begins to lift.

We all start somewhere and once we do we have no idea where the
road will take us.

If you dream of swimming the English Channel, get in touch with us, we might be able to help lift that veil just enough for you to turn your dream
into a reality.

More information about English Channel swimming
https://www.channelswimmingassociation.com/about
https://cspf.co.uk/

Bluetit 1 Team - Makala, Jemeima, Laura, Eva, Jackie, Jess, Sian
Boat - Sea Leopard
Pilots - Stuart and Sean
Observer - Simon
www.thebluetits.co