Hi all,
Before I go any further I would like to thank all those who have supported me in my build up to the swim. This includes sponsors and pool staff, pool patrons, my coach, Roskill Masters, Hilton Brown Swim School, fundraisers and those who supported the raffles, friends, fellow workers and of course those who set up and facilitated this web site. I hope to get the opportunity to thank each and everyone of you personally.
Coach Carmel has given you an account from the support boat. She has been able to tell you things that I am unable to and am still unable to comment on. My support crew of Carmel, Mike, Jannene and Pat were party to an unfolding of events that I was oblivious to, events and circumstances that set the scene for a day of personal triumphs and disappointments. Their journey was different to mine. They were informed of the water temperature when I entered the water and its subsequent drop and then recovery and they were aware of the strength of the current that had a different agenda to me on that day.
The reality of my journey set in a few days before the swim. I called it ‘the stunned mullet effect’. People would say to me “are you okay” and I would say “oh yes, it’s just that I’m going to attempt to swim Cook Strait in a couple of days.” Each time I said this it sounded so bizarre and I could see by the reactions that I was not the only person that thought this.
As you know, my swim was scheduled to take place within a span of about five days starting on the 2nd April which was a Thursday. On Wednesday afternoon, I left the sanctity of my little office which is located on the ground floor of the Psychology building on Massey University’s Palmerston North Campus and drove down to Wellington. Mike, Carmel and Jannene flew down from Auckland and Pat drove down that night from Wanganui. We were booked to stay at the Marina Motor Lodge which was on the corner of a road that led down to the Mana Cruising Club, the place where we were scheduled to leave from in the event of the weather permitting an attempt on the Strait.
I admit that I was pretty stressed on that day and Carmel and Jannene insisted I rest while they busied themselves in organising the units and getting in the food supplies. We didn’t know how long we would be there and I had an inkling that Friday would probably be the day given available weather forecasts. Here I need to stop and say how absolutely fantastic my support crew were. Each of them brought different strengths to our group and they were just a magic combination.
That evening we walked down the road to find somewhere to eat and of course with us we took the dreaded cellphone. After 8pm we were to receive a phone call from Philip telling us whether the swim would be on or off. It sat in the middle of the table and we waited for it to go off, like a bomb (the Mana bomb, no relation to the Paihia bomb, ask Carmel about that one), and every time it rang I just about went through the roof.
Inevitably Philip did ring and he informed me that the swim was on for the next morning. Apparently I would “have the wind up my bum.” I can remember texting my 13 year old nephew and the conversation went something like this:
ME: I’m swimming tomorrow HIM: Where ME: Cook Strait HIM: Holy shit!!! ME: Yep HIM: Bring me back a piece of the South Island ME: Ok HIM: Yay
We proceeded back to the motel where the preparations began (hence the start of the photos on this web site where Jannene is unable to find her electric toothbrush and I am offering her the stick mix as a substitute.
About a week before this Jannene had phoned me from an Op Shop in Dominion Road excited that she had found me some suitably warm and dodgy clothes to put on after the swim. We had been advised me that it was not advisable to take clothes that you would ever want to wear again because of the grease that was applied at the start of the swim. Great clothes Jannene (seen also in the photos) and I have kept the hat for a souvenir and plan to wear it if a trip to Auckland coincides with a mid-winter St. Helier swim.
After an early wakeup call the dodgy clothes were donned and we headed off to meet the boat at around 5.30am.I think. I can’t quite remember the time. All I know is that I was feeling a lot more focused and in good spirits. There was a chilly breeze the night before and I knew that any concerns I had about the cold needed to be put aside, that this would be a battle within a battle and on that assumption I proved to be correct.
I didn’t need to worry about anything: everything was organised for me. Anything I needed for the swim was duly packed by Carmel and Jannene. Carmel nearly lost Mike’s pack overboard when we were loading the boat, but managed to retrieve it before it drifted off semi-submerged, kept buoyant by the wetsuit it concealed.
We set off from what I think was the Paramata Harbour, past the newly erected windfarm at Makara, to Ohau Point where the preparation for the swim began. This included a public groping of Annie in the form of the application of thick layers of axle grease and I must say that there were very few places that this wasn’t applied. Even the crew came out to watch.
I was transported by ‘rubber duckie’ to an outcrop of rocks where I was required to plunge into the water and swim in to touch a rock. Photos were then taken and the swim began. Philip informed me that the temperature was around 17 degrees.
It seemed so surreal. The day had dawned. It was a beautiful day. The tall cliffs of the North Island Coast crowned in dense bush looked magnificent The water was so blue and flat. It looked so benign. How could you not succeed on a day like this. I think it lulled me into a false sense of security and I forgot that I had just left a boat full of people clothed in thick jackets who were leaving vapour trails when they breathed. On this morning it just seemed so doable. Yes it was cold when we first started out and then after a while I swam into a wall of water that was even colder and from this point on I began to doubt my ability to succeed. Earlier on I had had a taste of the vulnerability of my situation when the big support boat had been shading me from the sun and I could feel my body temperature drop because of this. I remember thinking, just go away and I was relieved when they finally did.
During the first few stops Philip told me I was doing well and indeed I was feeling good in the water. We covered over 8ks in the first two hours and I didn’t know this but I was told afterwards that we had gone around 10ks in the first two and a half hours. It was after the first 2 hours that the cold started to get to me and I was shaking when I was trying to drink my fluids. Philip would ask me how I was and I would say “good” because I knew if I admitted out loud that I was cold that this would be the beginning of the end.
We stopped every half hour to feed and within that time my life was pretty much broken into half hour segments. Each stop saw my body temperature drop even further but I would just set off for another half and hour and would seemingly warm again.
When Philip told me we weren’t actually going anywhere I was gutted although paradoxically not overly surprised. One of the biggest mistakes I made was looking behind and ahead. I could see a headland behind me that wasn’t getting any further away and the South Island in the distance that wasn’t getting any closer. I was always rational and I know that distance can be deceiving in the water but I have been in a similar situation before, some years ago on my first Whale Island swim where we were swept up the coast towards Mt. Maunganui and had to swim back into the tide. I spent an hour on that occasion swimming in the same spot but eventually managed to swim through it and finish. That time I didn’t have the cold to contend with as well.
It was obvious to me that I was making no headway for at least three hours of the time I spent in the water and this made the cold all the more difficult to swim through. I honestly believe that had I not encountered such a strong tide that I could have swum through the cold. If only I had had some indication that I was making some sort of progress. I know myself well enough to know that that would have lifted me out of the downward spiral of despair and egged me on. Just to have seen that far coast line edging closer.
Some hours into the swim the temperature lifted, and I temporarily thought, yes I can do this, but of course by this stage unbeknownst to me we were heading for Kapiti and by then the damage had been done. Although my mind was still hungry for success, the body was packing up. My stroke rate had dropped dramatically. Even though the lift in temperature had warmed me to a point, towards the end of my attempt I was swimming into icy streams of water that saw my body temperature plummet and me shaking violently while I was swimming. My breathing was also becoming difficult and my arms were turning over with no real power and no follow through with the stroke. It was time to ask “Is there any point to this?”
The answer was “no, it’s pretty much unsalvageable and I don’t like the look of your condition anyway.” And so I was pulled from the water after 7 hours and hauled onto the big craft.
I’ve never seen people move so fast. Four or five people trying to clothe a violently shaking body. The dodgy clothes were pulled on seemingly from all directions and I was laid on the floor of the boat inside the cabin wrapped in blankets, where I stayed until I stopped shaking and until everyone was satisfied that I wasn’t going to throw up {which I felt was never going to happen). When my support crew informed m of the water temperature I was shocked but felt happier at my reactions. It was apparently 14 degrees when I started out and then dropped to 13.5. Later on it rose to 16 degrees. I had believed before the swim that I was capable of swimming in 17 degrees of water. They also explained to me that I had been heading to Kapiti sideways for quite some time and that the boat crew had said that they had not ncountered a current like this for sometime. To make 2k’s an hour progress I would have had to be able to swim 6ks an hour. That is way beyond my particular capabilities. Apparently they had discussed the hopelessness of the situation some time before. If we had waited for the tide to turn, the consensus was that it would have swept us back past the South Island. I did come out of the water with a cough that I had for a few days and a sinus infection. Apart from that I am fine.
My long suffering support crew were required to help remove the grease in a hot bath afterwards and I managed to recover enough to go out for dinner and consume several glasses of red wine (that was after about 20 cups of tea).
I have to report that I only saw one jellyfish (after all that jellyfish training), one container ship and apparently there was an albatross overhead (confirmed by photos) and a Molly Hawke that tried to land on my feet (also confirmed by photos). My brother unkindly said “Are you sure it wasn’t a vulture”. Sadly there were no dolphins.
The next day I was driven into Wellington and Oriental Bay where Mike, Pat and myself lay on the beach soaking up the warmth of the sun while Carmel and Jannene went swimming. I don’t think I have ever been so appreciative of that warmth before. This all came about because Carmel and Jannene had decided that I needed another day of supervised recovery. An unexpected plus to the trip was the Monet exhibition at Te Papa and another debriefing that night over dinner.
So now I am left considering the next attempt. There was never any doubt in my mind from the moment they took me from the water that there would be another one. I am now left with a sense of unfinished business, consumed if you like by the history of Cook Strait and now feeling somehow as if I am a part of that, albeit a very small part. The next attempt will most surely be borne from the lessons learned from this experience and will no doubt be the stronger for it.
Thanks for the fabulous messages posted on this site and the fantastic emails of support I have received from club members that I have yet to get around to answering. |