Just come back from Dover (by Kevan)

That was possibly the worst experience.

The trip down to Dover was the usual, upbeat team bus spirit, 7 of us in Mikes 7 seater, luggage crammed into the top box and Andy's lunch box taking up all other available space, (maybe that’s not the best choice of words). On arrival in Dover there were flickers of sunshine poking through the clouds which seemed to make quite a difference to our wellbeing physically and mentally. But by the time we had reached the beach the skies had darkened. The sea remained fairly calm but looked cold, dark and uninviting.

Time to prepare, all performing the well known swimming trunk dance on the pebbled beach trying to maintain ones modesty which in most cases was a battle already lost standing in Speedo's on a cold spring morning.

.Instruction from our overseer came through that today's swim was to be much longer than anticipated, a triangle, from the beach, to the slopey pier, to the harbour wall, back to beach, a round trip of about 55 minutes. This is a lot further than anticipated - not in a distance sense, we had all been doing the time and distance in the pool - the challenge was the time in the very cold water. Apparently the sea temperature is particularly cold this year, a shocking 9.5 deg C.

The walk down into the sea is awful, you know what’s coming but you cant stop or even hesitate or common sense will get the better of you. Your team mates know it also but it remains unsaid and we all walk together, the steps get shorter in the deepening water, then the decision as to when I stop walking and dive in is taken away from me as my swimming partner, Andy, dives in, I must follow.

From there on it’s survival, suddenly your breath is pulled from you, as the cold water envelops you, you try to swim, cant get your breath, flap around, anything goes as limbs flail with very little actual forward movement, dynamic water-treading. My head won’t go in the water. I cant hold my breath long enough to actually put it in the water, all I end up doing is lifting my head mid stroke with a gasp for air that seems to synchronise with a wave swell. A mouthful of the dark, salty and…. oh god what else was in there….gets swallowed. The thin neoprene swim cap apparently does help but not nearly enough.

Since all dived in together, in close proximity, the chances of hitting a team member with my uncoordinated windmill arms and can-can legs is high and it takes a few moments before I managed tospacemyselfoutsufficiently. We then head straight out to sea, beyond the metal edged wave breakers that have been placed specifically to rip apart any swimmers that venture too close to the sanctuary of the shore. After a minute or two of thrashing about I chance to look up to try and find Andy with whom I am supposed to be partnering for safety sake. Yes, even channel swimmers get into trouble in these types of conditions. Luckily we are still remarkably near each other.

The cold really is shocking; it doesn’t get easier for me. My goggles fog up but the sea is so dark anyway it just makes it more difficult to stay in visual contact with Andy. We reach the slopey pier, its taken ages since we swim against the flow of the tide. Now the longest leg, back past our entry point, where awaits me the comfort of my clothes, my coffee flask, my Mars bar and my wife (I may have got that order wrong!) but no stopping here, no giving in for me, onto the harbour wall. The harbour wall is reached, some touch it as a point of achievement, I don’t, it’s slimy and nasty, I’m cold deep inside me now, I can’t really feel my hands or feet but only the swim back to the entry point left. I see Andy and we both know its full speed back.

I scramble onto the stony beach. The cold has affected my balance and I can’t stand, I find it easier to crawl out of the sea on all fours until a friendly hand reaches out to support me upright and place a towel round my shoulders. For safety, the overseer asks me my number written on my cap firstly to check me back in and secondly to check I am not delirious from the effects of the cold.

The need to get into warm dry clothes and get a warm drink inside me is now essential before the shivers take hold. It takes me around 30 minutes to stop shivering and shaking, the Coffee and the Mars bar taste of salt.

After an hour, instructions from our overseer come through. We are all to do it again. The swimming trunk dance starts again but slower.

I couldn’t get warm for hours after, had a hot bath in the middle of the afternoon and did nothing for the rest of the day.