Karteek and Mate v The English Channel

On Sunday 3rd August just after 3.00AM Mate from Budapest jumped into
the English Channel from Shakespeare Beach below the white cliffs of
Dover. This was his second attempt to conquer the unruly waters that
seperate England from France. It was a perfectly clear warm night (
very typical in the UK!!?! ) and within an hour the sky began to
brighten up to reveal the battlefield stretching out before us. There
was almost no wind and Mate had started out at a storming pace. Every
45 minutes he would stop for a feed, a mouth watering concoction of
Cytomax and banana or a refreshing slurp of his 'special' hungarian
protein potion ( when he was really good we gave him chocolate! ).
Mate had designed his own feeding schedule in frightening detail (too
much time in Dover Mate?) and had prepared an A4 writing pad with
specific codes like TG and GF (Tyagambur Called and this is a good
time to Go Faster). On his previous attempt the year before, too much
time had been lost in miscommunication during the feeding breaks,
seconds and minutes which the swimmer can pay dearly for in the
latter stages of the crossing. You see, the Channel is not just a gap
between two shorelines or a lane in a big swimming pool, its not a
nice carpet of tarmac or a winding path through a flower garden, NO!
Its alive I tell you! It never stops moving! For six hours the tide
drags you this way then for six hours it drags you in the opposite
direction and neither of these 'directions' is the way you want to
go.
The wind blows from another direction and either speeds up the tide
or clashes with it creating choppy waves. Not to mention that its the
busiest shipping channel ( as opposed to the shopping channel ) in
the world with massive German cargo ships transporting brand new cars
to Japan and massive Japanese cargo ships sending brand new cars to
Germany. The channel is alive and quite frankly I don't think it
wants you to get to France. For centuries it was the battleground of
the warring European Imperialist nations - its no Zurich lake thats
for sure! Anyway, where was I, ah yes, Mate. Mate was extremely
economic with his breaks ('breaks' is not really the right word for
treading water in freezing temperatures, attempting to drink tea
without swallowing two gallons of salt water ) and without a murmur
he would be back into the swim, head down, smooth stroke. 5 hours
into the swim we had crossed the halfway point although I have
learned from bitter experience that the one thing you can be sure of
at the 'halfway point' is that you are nowhere near halfway through
the swim! At about 8 AM a thick fog descended on us. Visibility was
about 40 metres and every now and then we could hear the bellow of a
fog horn from the passing passenger ferries. Nevertheless the wind
remained still and the water was pleasantly calm. Mate was swimming
to plan and the fog began to clear around midday unveiling a blazing
summer sun. It was around this time when the ever silent Mate asked
the dreaded question, 'Where is France?' Channel swimming
psychologists know that this translates to 'I am really tired!' 9
hours into the swim I had already received calls from Mate's
extensive fan club, from Budapest, Zurich, London and New York. Now
was the time to test Mate's metal. His stroke was becoming a little
ragged his concentration a little less focused. It seemed that we
were on course for a 10 and a half hour swim but that was before we
stumbled into the infamous 'Washing Machine'. France was becoming
more and more visible and soon we were in sight of Cap Grenez. It
looked so close. But the tide was changing. I had brought out the GF
signal and we could see that another swimmer who had started at the
same time as Mate was about to reach shore just south of the Cape.
The Ebb tide had been unpredictably strong and brought us further
down the channel than intended and as the tide changed we were
heading into the choppy waters off the Cape. As the tide picked up
strength we could see the lighthouse on the Cape pass agonisingly out
of reach ( we were probably just over a mile from it). North of the
Cape the land recedes forming a large bay and as the tide pulls you
up to Calais you are actually getting further from the shore even
though you are swimming towards it. Mate looked up and asked 'We are
getting further away?' Accustomed to lying in this situation but keen
to keep Mate focused I said 'Well, we, you are doing great, keep
swimming'. Fortunately the pilot, Dave White, and his wife Joan were
optimistic and before sitting down to consume their bacon sandwhiches
assured me that we would have to struggle through the Washing Machine
for an hour or so but we were close enough to the shore to avoid the
stronger tides further out. Mate battled heroically with the choppy
water and after an hour and a half of seemingly moving no closer to
the shore he broke into the calmer waters of the bay. An amicable
contra current brought us right in to a packed beach where Mate
received a triumphant welcome from the locals. Usually a swimmer
arrives at some ungodly hour at a desolate point but Mate landed bang
in the middle of 2 to 3 hundred holidaymakers! From the pilots boat
we watched him walk out of the water and on to French soil. It had
taken him 13 hours and 5 minutes!
He was so happy! After we retrieved him from the water, we dried him
off and tried to warm him up. The 6 '2" shivering giant turned to me
and said 'That is by far the most difficult thing I have ever done,
right from the beginning to the end'. Well done Mate Micimacko!!!
We returned to Dover, showered, ate, slept for 2 hours and then I
found myself on the same boat watching Karteek dive into the water.
Prior to this attempt Karteek has crossed the channel 4 times
sucsessfully but he will be the first to tell you that it does not
get any easier. All I can say is that of all the channel crossings I
have witnessed this was by far the bravest. The weather forecast was
the same as the previous day but as we left Dover the wind began to
pick up and the waves began to wake up. It was not too bad but enough
to get Karteek well and truly sea sick by the third hour. It is hard
as a helper to know exactly what the swimmer is going through. The
swimmer ploughs through the water , head down, hearing nothing but
the splash of the waves keeping an eye on the boat to set his or her
course. There is little time for talking. The swimmer is wearing
goggles and it is difficult to read their expressions as they bob up
and down; are they just cold, are they in pain, were they stung by a
jelly fish, or are they just completely spaced out? They are in their
own world. The channel and them. Face to face. As it turned out
Karteek was ready to stop after 3 hours (he told me after the swim).
He was already wretching, trying to empty his stomach. We felt so
helpless. The swimmer is not aloud to touch the boat. Sometimes
swimmers recover from nausea but no such luck. We tried giving him
different things but you know the ancient law 'What goes down must
come up!' Often he would stop swimming and tread water 10 metres from
the boat, look like he felt better and then suddenly empty his
stomach into the Channel. It was frustrating to watch (its not much
of a spectator sport). The only good sign was that when he did speak
to us he was completely coherent and could even spare a laugh. Also,
he had been swimming strongly and the first 5 hours were almost an
exact replica of Mate's swim. As he forged on we noticed that there
wasn't the same vigour in his stroke, and not surprising. He was not
holding down any feeds. For the rest of his swim he managed to rely
solely on water and dextrose sweets. We were worried that he would
hit the wall, that he would get to a point and then crash. But on he
went. I cannot begin to imagine undertaking any task while suffering
such discomfort. For Karteek it must have been a challenge of extreme
proportions. He lost a lot of power and was 3 miles short of the Cape
when the tide changed. Fortunately he avoided the Washing Machine but
again it looked like we were making no headway for almost three
hours. People were calling up from New York, Edinburgh, Las Vegas and
Augsburg and we really didn't know if he was going to make it.
Ashrita called and wanted to know the situation and for the last 3
hours Karteek didn't stop for a feed. On, on he ploughed heartened by
messages from Trishakash and Tyagambur. Then finally, late in the day
he swam the final metres into the shore. Like Mate, Karteek landed
right by a village and several people came to meet him. Karteek
speaks French but he was so drained that he quickly returned to the
boat. It had taken him 16 hours and 5 minutes (his previous swim had
taken him 10 hours 50 minutes). The same Channel, a channel he had
already crossed 4 times, but a new experience!
PS If you are planning to swim the channel please do not read the
above