The Tr'Isle of Wight - 23rd - 26th August 2025

The challenge I had set myself this time was the biggest so far…..by quite a margin. It was to circumnavigate Isle of Wight three times, once by swimming, once by cycling and once by running. Each lap would be just over 100km, and I planned to do this consecutively and as quickly as possible, ideally in under 72 hours. 

After months of multi-day training and logistics planning it was finally time to dive into the water and get going. In the week leading up to an event or challenge I burn up nervous energy thinking and rethinking what lies ahead and whether I have got everything in place. Once I take the first stroke or step my mind can focus at the task in hand, and all those worries disappear.

That’s exactly how I felt when I dived into the sea from the slipway at Seaview Sailing Club, which was to be the start and finish point for each of my laps.  A small crowd had gathered to cheer me off, I even had my first selfie!    My crew had prepared the yacht, RIB (power boat) and kayaks in readiness to support what we hoped would be a 16 hour swim (its nice to hope).  The weather was perfect and the sea was dead calm, I couldn’t have asked for better conditions.  As I took those first strokes through the clear water, looking at the sea grass being pushed in the direction I was swimming, I felt fantastic.  I had made a last minute change of start time because I thought I could maximise the tidal current assist. Seeing the direction of the sea grass showed I’d made the right decision and because I had tapered my training in the two weeks before I felt fresh.  I had to remind myself that I had a long way to go and not to overdo it in the first hour.

We made excellent progress as I swam anti-clockwise around the Island.  There are two main tidal gates (the point at which the tide turns and changes to the opposite direction); one at The Needles and one at Bembridge.  To be able to get round as quickly as possible I needed to pass through these tidal gates before the tide turned, otherwise the swim would be impossible or very long.  I had planned where I expected to be at various points around the island so that the crew could determine if I was making progress at the right pace.  This was a combination of my swim pace and the expected tidal flow.  As we reached Cowes and our life guard escort arrived to get me safely across the harbour entrance, it was clear we were making good progress.  In fact I was slightly ahead of plan, even though the swell was starting to build making the swimming much harder. 

These challenges are about the physical and mental ability but they’re also about the ability to take on the right amount of nutrition.  Although I had opted to wear a wetsuit to give me any chance of having the energy to complete the bike and run laps, in all other regard I was following Channel swimming rules – no touching the boat, getting out of the water or being touched by any of the crew throughout the swim.  This meant my feeds of warm carbohydrate drink and a variety of solids (nut mix, energy oat mix, gels etc) were given to be from a fishing net, so that I wouldn’t have to reach up to the boat or swim any further than needed.

I continued to make good progress as we approached The Needles as the tidal flow picked up pace.  In fact it had picked up a bit too much, I was in danger of being swept past The Needles and out to sea.  I had to turn and swim straight in towards the shoreline to cut across the tidal flow, but I was still getting carried at fast pace in the wrong direction.  Fortunately we had planned for this because we’d experienced it on a previous training swim and the crew had positioned me in a good place, as the Needles quickly approached I was making ground in the right direction.  At the point I needed to cross through to the other side of the rock formation, the water was churning up, making it tough to get through, especially because there are rocks close to the surface which I had to avoid.  Safely guided through to the other side I rolled onto my back and looked back at the iconic rock formation and smiled, I was half way through the swim and had just threaded The Needles which was a very cool experience.

Half way in distance, but not in time…thankfully I had no idea how long the rest of the swim would take.  I was still just about on track by the time we made it past Fresh Water Bay, but I could tell that we weren’t moving as quickly as expected.  St Cat’s lighthouse sits on the southern tip of the Isle of Wight, making it a prominent landmark which is great as a navigational point.  However, it didn’t feel like it was getting any closer.  As the sun started to set I knew we didn’t have the expected current to give me the extra push I needed to make the next tidal gate before the tide turned.  Graham, Rich, James and Russ were all upbeat and didn’t focus on the negatives.  They continued to feed me, keeping the mood light, but I could tell there was an edge of concern. 

By nightfall we had reached St Cat’s point, well behind schedule, even though the tidal flow had picked up.  There was a key decision point to made here, keep close to the shore in the knowledge that we weren’t going to make it before the tide turned or swim far out to get as much of the remaining tide as possible.  We opted for the latter, which turned out not to be the best option.  At my next feed stop Graham said that he needed me to swim as hard as possible towards the shore for 30 minutes, otherwise I risked being swept out into The Channel.  I gave it almost everything I had, surprised that I was actually able to increase the pace.  At the next feed stop, the message was the same, another 30 minutes of power.  I could see the lights at Shanklin that we were aiming for, but at the next stop I saw that we had drifted further south towards the open sea.  Another 20 minutes Russ and Graham shouted, get into the cover of the shore and then you can take it easier.  I was exhausted by this point, but I also didn’t want to be going backwards in the open sea in the pitch black.  I have no idea how much longer it took, but I made it into the relative shelter just north of Sandown Bay.  This is where I would spend the next 6 hours, swimming on the spot.  I couldn’t see a thing, I was swimming next to a sheer cliff face, the lights of Shanklin were far in the distance, offering no benefit.  The waves had started to pick up too, so I was getting battered from the side with waves pushing me towards the shore, whilst I was trying to swim straight. I was making a little ground when James pointed out there was a submerge groyne close ahead and we didn’t know how deep it was.  I was worried about swimming into it or over it and getting stuck, so I eased up on my pace whenever we made it close.  I needn’t have bothered because there was no way I was going to make the 50m distance with the tide pushing me back.  As I was forced back I got pushed into a bank of rocks I hadn’t realised were there, cutting my hands and feet as I tried to swim away.  This happened multiple times through the night because I had no idea where I was in relation to the rocks.  

James and Rich took 2 hour stints paddling next to me in the kayak and trying to keep my spirits as high as they could, even though they were struggling as much as I was with the waves and tide.  This is the closest I came to giving up, after I hit the rocks for the first time.  Despite the wetsuit I was freezing and shivering, I was so tired and swimming in the dark is pretty disconcerting when I knew there rocks lurking nearby, not to mention the sea monsters my mind was conjuring up.  It was a comment from Rich about an hour in, he said I reckon you’ll break through the tide in 40 minutes or so.  That gave me hope, and I thought I can handle this for another 40.  Then he swapped out with James for another couple of hours and when he came back he said 40-50 minutes I reckon you’ll get past this.  At that point I realised what he’d done, but it got me through, I’d already done a few hours of going nowhere, I wasn’t going to give up now with those  miserable hours already under my belt. I knew it had to change at some point.  Very slowly, I could see the sky starting to lighten.  The promise of sunrise was a distinct sign that time was moving forwards and if I could just keep going a bit longer, I would break out of purgatory and make good progress with the turning tide in my favour to woosh around to the finish.  Once again…I was wrong.

By the time the sun was poking above the sea I had made it past the groyne and could see Shanklin seafront passing by, this was a good sign.  Rich guided me safely away from the shore into deeper waters where we expect the tide to be at its strongest.  The issue, however, is that the wind had picked up and uncharacteristically was an easterly, which meant wind against tide…which meant…big waves.  I was getting smashed in the face, I’d take a stroke and the sea would disappear as a wave reared up or I’d go to land my hand only to have a wave crash into it.  I’d go to breath only to get a mouthful of seawater, making my stomach turn and an urge to retch.  At feed stops I was actively trying to avoid eating anything, I couldn’t really swallow properly because my throat and tongue were swollen, but Russ insisted that I eat something as well as drink the carbo drink.  It became harder to actually get the feeds.  James had had to abandon the kayak because he wasn’t able to make progress against the waves, so I was feeding from the RIB, which was dangerous in the swell as it reared up and crashed down with the waves.

The cliff face at Culver Down seemed to sit in the distance forever, at one point I felt that I was going backwards.  I was trying not to despair, I’d been in the water for almost 20 hours by this point and I wasn’t going forwards.  I was seriously worried that it was getting too dangerous to continue.  I found out later that both the yacht and the RIB had almost hit a submerged rock which had previously sunk boats in the past.  Eventually I made it round the corner and only had to swim round Bembridge before turning to the home stretch.  The waves died down a bit and I made good progress to the corner, but then we got stuck going nowhere for another hour or so.  I was getting frustrated because we should have had the tide with us for hours by this point, I worried that I wouldn’t get around and the tide might even turn against us pushing me backwards again.  After what felt like an eternity I made it round the corner and into the relative shelter of the Solent where the water was much calmer, but still no flow to boost me. 

I could clearly see the sea floor beneath me for the first time in ages, which helped that I could see that I was making progress in the right direction.  Although, I realised that I had started to hallucinate, I thought there were masses of crabs fighting on the seabed, but on closer inspection they were just rocks, but they would continue to morph into combating crabs as I swam.

At last, I heard what I had been waiting for, for the last 10 hours…last feed.  This meant I was close to the finish, I could see Seaview sailing club, I could even make out people on the slipway.  I put my head down and swam as fast as I could, which actually wasn’t that fast by this point.  I poked my head up to see how much further, I heard a cheer go up from the people waiting.  I was so close, and then in the last few hundred metres, when it didn’t matter anymore, the current picked up.  In fact there was now a danger that I could get swept past, but that thought disappeared as I saw the slipway appear beneath me. I reached out and touched solid ground.  I managed to get my feet under me, but struggled to stand up. Russ and Nick came to give me a hand, but I wanted to get above the water level on my own.  I staggered but managed to get to my feet and clear of the water.  I had done it in a time of 25 hours and 59 minutes, about 10 hours longer than I had hoped.

As I hugged my crew and family tears streamed down my face, and theirs.  We were all so happy to have completed this challenge, it had been far more gruelling for everyone than any of us has expected.  There were people all around the sailing club cheering me and offering congratulations, it felt so surreal.  I noticed I was still hallucinating when I thought a wave was the fin of dolphin. 

I had pretty much decided, in the middle of the night and as I got to the final straight of the swim that there was no way I was going to be able to do the cycle, let alone the run.  But, as my crew and everyone there congratulated me they also wished me luck for the next part of the challenge.  I was thinking to myself I’ve just been through a hell of a swim, I cannot do any more.  I saw Matt, who had come down to support me for the ride, he’d woken in the middle of the night to get to the island in time for our expected start time of around 6am, however due to the length of the swim he’d had to wait much longer.  I couldn’t let him or the others down.  So, I had a warm shower which was heaven, I tried to eat and drink something, but it came straight back up.  This was actually a good thing, I cleared my stomach of the all that seawater and felt much better.  I was whisked back to our base.  Working backwards from when I wanted to be back from the ride, before dark, I decided I had time for an hour and a half sleep.  When I woke to my alarm, I felt better and worse, but I got out of bed and started moving.  Albeit in slow motion, as I tried to get my kit and food together, finally around 3pm we started lap 2.

I was surprised that I was able to sit on the bike and not feel too shaky.  I set a medium pace, I didn’t want the ride to take any longer than it needed to, but also had to be conscious that I was already exhausted and had another lap to go after this one.  Fortunately, Matt was excellent company and the first half of the island disappeared with relative ease, there were some hills to climb which took a lot out of me, but I was able to recoup on the flats.  I still wasn’t keen on eating too much, but found a very happy medium, ice cream.  It was perfect, helped calm my mouth and throat, easy to consume and high in calories.  At the feed stops, Ed who was supporting in his VW Camper, would produce magnum ice creams…it was the perfect fuel. 

At the half way point I was still feeling reasonably good, but I knew we had the toughest part to come, there were some of big hills to climb and we had a head wind to contend with all the way back.  In my mind I was starting to question why I was even doing this, what was the point of it all, but as we came to the top of a long climb a motorcyclist pulled alongside us.  ‘Are you Matt Dawson?’  I said yes and he told me that he’d ridden all the way from Cowes (about 40km) to catch up with us and wish me luck.  That was exactly what I needed to reignite my motivation.  It was nice to know that people were following my progress and keen for me to do well.

The beautiful weather continued to hold and the ride went without incident. St Cat’s lighthouse was once again the focus of my attention.  I knew that this was the penultimate big climb and I really wasn’t looking forward to it.  By the time we started the ascent I had retreated into myself a bit, the tiredness and fatigue hitting me at the worst time.  It was getting late in the day and the sun was starting to go down, we had less than an hour of daylight left and well over 3 hours until the end.  My circadian rhythm was kicking in, with the sun setting my body was telling me it was time to go to bed, to be fair it had been telling me that for the last 24 hours.

Ed and my family met us at various points along the way to provide much needed food and motivation to keep going.  I was starting to feel hungry and could actually stomach pasta which was much needed fuel.  Other than almost falling off the bike because I wasn’t paying attention to the road and cycled into the curb, the rest of the journey passed uneventfully.  We did have the slight issue that we only had Matt’s front light to guide us through the dark, because I’d forgotten mine.  Some of the country roads were pitch black so we had to stay close.  I had visions of me cycling into a pot hole and doing myself some serious damage, luckily we avoided mishap.

Even though this was the ‘easy’ lap, it seemed to go on and on.  It seemed like every time we turned a corner there was another hill to climb.  The last few kilometres just wouldn’t end.  And then, I saw a sign for Seaview and we free wheeled down the final hill to the coast and my end point.  Even late on a Sunday evening people had gathered and were running out of their houses to greet us at the end, to congratulate us and cheer me on for the next lap.  

I was absolutely exhausted and needed to get a few hours sleep before considering starting the run.  I thanked Matt and he was whisked off to get his ferry home and I was taken to the house to have a quick bite to eat and get a whopping three hours sleep.  I wanted to leave on the run as early as possible because I wanted to avoid going into a third night, but I also knew I had to get some sleep.

When the alarm went off at 1am the last thing I wanted to do was get out of bed and get going.  But, I knew I had to get going.  I forced myself out of bed, fumbled around looking for my running gear and kit.  It took almost an hour to get ready, I was moving in slow motion and I was hungry.  Eventually I was ready to go and Russ and I headed out into the night.

My plan had been to run/ walk the whole way around the island, but as we started eastward it was clear to me that there was going to be very little running.  Instead, I had calculated that if we could do a fast march we should easily be able to keep a pace of 5km per hour and get us around in about 20 hours.  It wasn’t going to set any speed records, but at least we’d get round in time for a good nights sleep.  Once again…I was wrong, very wrong.

Russ was excellent company and we chatted non-stop, we relived the swim and it was interesting to hear about if from his point of view.  I hadn’t realised how tough it had been for the RIB and the kayakers during the night when I was stuck going nowhere.  The rocks had been bad for me, but for the others they had had their own challenges to deal with.

We made good progress around the north of the island, the views were stunning, especially as the sun came up as we arrived in Cowes.  We got into a pretty good rhythm doing two hour sections and then meeting up with Ed for food and topping up drinks.  My appetite had come back in full force, I was constantly hungry and eating loads at each stop, as well as snacking along the route.

With the sun rising I felt more awake and a lot less fatigued which helped me stay positive as we slowly ticked off the kilometres.  Russ started struggling with his feet, he was getting blisters which was slowing him down.  He tried changing shoes and socks and different plaster options, but nothing really worked.  He carried on regardless, matching my pace as we made our way along the coastline and the climb up to the top of the Needles.  Every time we had a tough climb we were rewarded with a stunning view.  By the time we made it to the top of The Needles it was clear this was not going to be done in 20 hours, it had taken us over 13 hours to get there and we knew the return section was going to be the toughest especially going deep into the next night.  We tried to keep our spirits up but we were both worried about just how far we had left to go and that a big part of it would be in the dark.

Following the coastal path around the Isle of Wight can be quite dangerous in places, there has been serious coastal erosion and big chunks of the cliff have just fallen into the sea, and with it the coastal path.  It looked as though the ground beneath our feet could give way at any point in some places, coupled with this was the issue that in areas the path ran very close to a sheer drop into the sea beneath us.  In the daylight it was easy to avoid tricky spots but in the dark it was harder to see where the land disappeared into nothing.  Once night was well and truly on us, the only light we could see was from our headtorches and the ships out at sea, and so the navigation became tricker.  For the third time St Cat’s lighthouse loomed in the distance, never seeming to get any closer, but it did help to give us the rough direction.  We had a few difficult moments where the coastal path was closed and we had to divert to the main road, with no pavement and nutters speeding along at ridiculous speeds we opted to get back to the relative safety of the path whenever we could.

The long climb up to St Cat’s was punctuated with a well deserved feed stop.  I stuffed my face with a masses of pasta and chocolate.  The trick on the these stops was to try not to hang around too long, although it was hard not to.  Once we’d sat down to eat the thought of getting up to start again became harder and harder. But one of us would get up and gee the other along, the longer we weren’t moving the longer away the finish would be. Saying farewell to the family and Ed, we headed into the pitch black.

The night time seemed to go on forever, and this is where we had the most issues with closed footpaths.  We would follow our planned route down to the coastal path only to find it closed or re-routed a longer way around.  I lost count of the number of times we had to find another way around.  And just when I thought I couldn’t get any more annoyed, whilst walking along an esplanade, a wave crashed over the top soaking my feet and shoes.  The thing you have to protect throughout any sort of endurance run/ hike is your feet.  Keep them free from sand and grit, address hot-spots (areas where blisters are about to form) as soon as you feel them and, the number one rule…keep your feet dry!  Initially I was really pissed off,  my feet had been ok for most of the way to this point, other than a couple of plasters to prevent blisters I was fine.  This soaking threatened that, but there was nothing I could do about it.  We weren’t in a place where I could call Ed to come and meet us so I could change socks and shoes, so I just had to get on with it.  The whole night was disrupted with these routing issues and they started to take their toll.  Both Russ and I had stopped talking, I made half hearted attempts to start conversations or give me your top 10 whatevers, but hearts weren’t  in it.  We were thoroughly drained, the tank was empty, but we still had a long way to go.  By the time we got to Sandown we were both staggering like drunk people, unable to walk in a straight line.  My eyes kept crossing and then closing with tiredness.  At one point I tried to walk with my eyes closed, but gave up on that when I almost fell into the sea.  As the sun came up on my third day Ed and my family we were waiting at the end of the esplanade and the expression on their faces when they saw us showed just how bad we looked.  We stopped for just a couple of minutes, we had to keep going, to stop now would have been impossible to get going again.  

 

I was expecting another boost from the sun coming up, but it didn’t come.  I just felt worse and worse, and then I started to feel silly-drunk and Russ and I had a bit of a laugh as we climbed up to Culver Down monument.  This silliness helped us to get through a tough incline.  When we got to the top we turned to look back the way we had come, whilst the finish line didn’t feel as though it was getting any closer, looking back showed us just how far we had come.  We had hit the 100km mark, just 8km to go (although with all the detours it ended up being another 12km to go).  From the top of Culver Down, we could see Bembridge Ledge in the distance, this was the turning point where we would head into the home stretch.  The going was slow because we were walking through fields and steep paths, and when we thought we were about to get onto the last stretch before we saw the crew one more time, we had another path closure and were one again rerouted a longer way around.  The walk to the feed stop was less than 2km away but the road seemed to go on forever, our previous fatigue had come crashing back in full force.  When we finally staggered into the meeting point we sat down and stuff as much food as we could in, anything to boost the energy.  As we set off we were joined by Al and his wife, a friend of a friend who lived on the island.  It was so good to have someone else to talk to, Russ and I had fallen into companionable silence, but it wasn’t helping to pass the time.  The next 3km whizzed pass as I chatted with Al and Russ with his wife.  It was just what we needed.

The sun was high in the sky as we crossed Bembridge harbour along The Causeway where we had our final pit stop.  Again this was a quick one, top up some water and then just get going.  My son decided to join Russ and I for the last few KMs to the end, again it was a welcome change to have Jack with us.  We wended our way through the last few tracks and streets until we were within a few hundred metres from the end.  It seemed right to jog in the last bit, so we dug deep and ran along the seafront with people shouting encouragement from their houses, as we approached the end point a cheer went up from the waiting crowd.  I touched the Seaview Sailing Club sign and dropped to the floor, tears once again spilling down my cheeks…it was over.  I had done it.

Prior to my swim only 6 people had previously swam around the Isle of Wight (4 non-wetsuit and 2 with wetsuit).  I was now the 7^th, but the only person to follow that up with a cycle lap and then a run lap.  In total my Tr’Isle of Wight had taken 73 hours and 21  minutes, significantly longer than I hoped, but at one point I didn’t event think I was going to be able to finish the swim, so I’ll take that!

I could not have completed this challenge without the support of my amazing crew, during the training and logistics planning as well as during the event itself.  A massive thanks goes to Nick, Trish, Graham, Rich, Jimbo, Russ, Ed, Matt, Dutch, Chrissie, Bruce and of course my family Mel, Jack and Ellasofia.  

Lake Epic - New Swimming Record

Still taking sponsorship Donatons!

As I stood at the south end of Lake Windermere preparing to start my epic swim, I was purposefully trying not to focus on the whole challenge of swimming 13 lakes and 70km over the next two days. I was focusing on the immediate task of swimming the 17.7km of this lake, and wondering whether the ribs I had fractured 3 weeks prior were going to let me get through this.

At 07:19am I called out to my crew, who were standing ready to support me through my toughest challenge yet, ‘time on.’ And the long swim began. I had Rich and Jimbo flanking me on either side in kayaks to guide me and feed me for the duration of the swim. I was tentative with my stroke to start with, feeling out the ribs and how they would hold up. I had managed to do a few training swims the week before, which had gone well, considering. I was still worried though, that the meticulous planning we had done in the months leading to this point, would all fall apart in the first lake.

I was pleasantly surprised, as we made it out into the clear water, through the boats moored at the start of the lake. My confidence grew and I was able to relax into a relatively pain free, full and steady stroke. I was conscious not go out too fast on this first swim and tire myself out, it was certainly a marathon and not a sprint. The swim passed quickly, as I got into a rhythm, stopping briefly every 30 minutes for a quick feed. I had to remind myself at each stop to take a little extra time and get as much food in as possible. I wasn’t just feeding to get through this lake, I was feeding to keep myself fuelled for the whole challenge.

About an hour from the end, I got a searing pain in my back, it hurt every time I took a stroke on my right side. The muscles in my back had been damaged during the go-karting crash that had caused my rib fracture. This was a major issue, to say the least. It hurt so much that I was yelling into the water with each stroke. I was close enough to the end that I could assess how to tackle this problem when I got out.

A massive ferry sent waves through the water as it did a flyby when we entered the pier area at Ambleside, north of the lake. As I reached the end and stood up, a crowd of people standing on the beach gave me a round of applause, which was a lovely surprise. They were there supporting another swimmer who had also just finished swimming Windermere.

My crew were ready for action, got me out of the wetsuit, to clean it in preparation for the next lake. It is important to try and reduce the contamination between lakes, due to invasive plant species killing off marine life. They got me warm, fed and a drink in hand to fuel me for the next lake. When I stood up my back pain almost vanished. I hoped it had just been a spasm of some sort and nothing to worry about.

For support vehicles we had Graham’s minibus and Max’s car. In his haste to get to the next lake Max hit a rock, giving him not one, but two punctures. I tried not to catastrophise what this meant. I just sat in the minibus munching away trying not to get stressed about the situation. This is where I knew the guys would spring into action and sort it out. I had to focus on swimming, whilst the six of them could focus on the logistical issues. They drove me to the south of Coniston for the next swim, whilst phone calls were being made to get the car fixed.

Within half an hour of starting this swim, the pain in my back returned in full force. I was seriously concerned as to whether I could finish all the lakes. It was already impacting my speed and slowing me down. I kept thinking that I just needed to get to the end, take some pain killers and use the roller on my back to ease out the pain. These thoughts went round and round my head. At the next feed stop I asked for pain killers, I could not wait any longer.

Over the next couple of hours, I made it through the swim without too much incident, I could not really enjoy it, but the pain did subside a bit. At the end of Coniston, I could not have been happier to get out. It wasn’t a feeling of achievement at having just swum the 1st and 3rd largest lakes back-to-back (about 27km) it was more a relief that I could try and work out how to manage the pain.

Stripped of my wetsuit I lay down in the car park with my foam roller and eased out the pain in my back muscles. Which in itself was a certain kind of torture. This was going to be a constant theme through the rest of the challenge. As I finished and got into the minibus, I caught a glimpse of a very moody storm cloud through the trees. It did not look promising. Leading up to the event I had been checking the weather constantly, as if checking would somehow make the forecast better. It didn’t. Heavy rain and lots of it was promised, it looked like the heavens were about to deliver.

At Elterwater, a 15-minute drive away, I was preparing to swim one of the shortest lakes just as fat, heavy blobs of rain thudded down on us. The wind picked up at a pace, forcing Joe backwards in his kayak. He had to paddle hard just to stay still. There was no time to mess around, so I jumped in and started swimming as quickly as possible. Whilst the rain did not bother me in the water, the wind made it much harder going. To add to the fun, this lake was very shallow in places, full of fallen trees, lily pads and plant life to navigate. At times I could barely even do breaststroke without plunging through the muddy bottom. Joe did his best to help carve a path through the lily pads. Thunder boomed overhead, quickly followed by a flash of lightning.

This was another big worry, that I would be forced out of the water due to the danger of lightning. We were in the middle of the lake at this point, so we just had to keep going. We battled to the other side of the lake and were incredibly happy to be off the water, although it looked as though the worst of the storm had passed. Typical!

Back in the minibus, I tried to take on more food. I usually love to eat, but when I’m forcing it down and knowing that it might come back up in the next swim it’s not so pleasant.

Grasmere and Rydal were the next two lake, which were nice and quick. The water was lovely and calm after the storm and no major issues to deal with. The planning was paying off, everyone knew where they needed to be and what their job was, significantly reducing unnecessary stress.

Brothers Water was the shortest of the lakes and therefore I thought it would be nice and warm. Wrong! It was by far the most cold so far, properly freezing. I realised as I was swimming, that small bodies of water warm up quickly but cool down quicker. The weather had been poor in the lead up and these lakes were fed by run off from the surrounding hills and mountains, which was obviously very cold. I was very happy it was a short lake.

Ullswater was just a few minutes up the road, and this was the one I had been building up in my head to be the worst. It was the second longest lake of the challenge, and when I had seen it for the first time on the recce weekend, I was intimidated by just how vast it appeared, with the mountains looming over the water’s edge. When we arrived the water was like glass, completely still and the sun was setting giving us a beautiful scene to swim into.

Joe and Rich were supporting me on this one, keeping close as I started the 14km swim. The water wasn’t as cold as the previous lake, but I still felt cold. I picked up the pace to get some warmth into me and the first couple of hours passed without incident. I stopped about every 30 minutes to take on some warm carbo drink. I was really struggling to keep the liquid down and lost the fight a couple of times. I knew that I could not hang around though, otherwise this swim was going to take too long and just get harder and harder. In my mind I drew on previous experiences, when I had struggled through tough times in other endurance challenges. I knew I could get through this, I just had to keep going.

Darkness descended quickly, and I was struggling to make out the boats on either side. Even when they cracked the glow sticks and turned on their head torches. My mind was playing tricks on me, and I was seeing some very odd things with the way the lights played on the water around me. I hadn’t noticed at first, but when I stopped for my next feed, I realised the rain had come in hard and was hammering it down. A few minutes later the sky lit up, like it was day time. I popped my head up and asked if that was lightning. No, nothing to see here, yelled Joe. But I knew.

The lightshow went on for the next couple of hours and I was getting increasingly worried about the danger to myself and the kayakers. I tried to inject more pace into my swim, but I felt like I was going nowhere. I wanted this lake to be over as quickly as possible. Joe told me later that they were discussing what to do if lightening hit the water. They were trying to get closer to one side of the lake so that they could get me out quickly if needed.

After what felt like an eternity I had my final feed, Rich estimated it would be about 20 minutes to the end, he could see the lights the shore crew had setup to guide us in. Unfortunately it’s very hard to judge distance when its dark, cold and pouring down. It was another 45 minutes at least before we finally got to the end. Rich and Joe were soaked-through and freezing cold, and I wasn’t feeling much better.

Russ got me into the minibus which was heated to the max. I got out of my wetsuit and stuffed two hot water bottles inside my changing robe. I was able to get some hot food inside me, but I was exhausted. I was tired from having swum 45km, but also because my body was telling me this the usual time I should be sleeping. The crew could see I was struggling and they gave me an extra 10 minutes to close my eyes and get a little sleep and properly warm up.

When we arrived at Bassenthaite, I really did not want to get back in the water. I knew that I would, but I could not think of anything less I would rather do. Leaving the warmth of the minibus was a real wrench.

Russ coaxed me along to get me to the water’s edge, into the water and to get going. Hanging around wasn’t going to make it any better. Graham and Jimbo were back in the water to guide. I tentatively stepped into the water and was pleasantly surprised that the water was not too cold. The sky was starting to lighten ever so slightly, which helped to lift my spirits. As we got towards the end of the lake 2 hours later, it was fully light, with a mist playing nicely on the water. The final few hundred metres of the lake were freezing cold. I couldn’t believe just how cold it was. And could not understand it. The water was getting shallower, so in my mind it should have been getting warmer. Those last metres were just not pleasant. When I got out, I was shivering uncontrollably. Russ was there again to greet me with hot water bottles, I almost hugged him I was so happy to get the bundles of warmth.

When I swan the Channel, I did it following Channel swimming rules; swimming trunks, goggles, and a hat only, no wetsuit. I felt like I was cheating on this challenge, before I started, but there was no way I could have done this in skins. It’s a tough enough swim with a wetsuit, let alone without. I don’t doubt though, that someone will be able to complete it without. But it needs to be done when the lakes have had a chance to warm up, a lot!

The next four lakes came thick and fast, but the sun was out shinning down and making everything feel better. A head-wind on Derwent slowed us down a bit, Buttermere was ice cold freezing me to my core. Fortunately Crummock Water was a little warmer and a tail-wind meant we made excellent time and Loweswater was by far my favourite swim. The water was lovely and warm and the sun was beating down and this time I could feel it. When I got to the end, I felt really good.

The drive to the last lake was the longest and gave me time to eat a decent meal, well maybe not a meal for champions, mac’n’cheese but it tasted good and filled me up. Wast Water is a stunning lake to look at, especially on a day with bright blue skies and sunlight shimmering on the water.

Rich and Graham were my final support crew, they were quickly ready and waiting. I walked into the water, and at the risk of repeating myself, I got a shock as the cold hit me, but I knew this was the last one. I put the pace on to help acclimatise and build some kind of warmth. It didn’t work. I was cold through to my bones and shivering in my wetsuit. My hands, feet and face felt like they were made of ice. I kept looking at my hands as they made the swim strokes, surprised at how white they appeared.

I was getting seriously worried that I wasn’t going to be able to finish this lake. Its never a good thing to let negative thoughts take hold, I knew this, but the thoughts were hard to shake. At each feed Graham gave me hot carbo drink, which really helped. I had anticipated that this swim would take 2-2.5 hours, because I was so tired. This meant I would have 3 or 4 feed stops. At the second feed stop Graham asked me what I wanted next, I told him, but was also disappointed. I had thought I had caught glimpses of the beach at the end of the lake, whilst swimming. A big no-no when swimming is to not look at the horizon. It will take as long as it will take to get there, looking at it will not get you there any quicker and it won’t seem like it’s getting any closer.

I counted one hundred breaths, to give myself something to focus on and not allow myself to look up until I had completed them. When I did look up, I was certain now that I could see the beach. As I started to count another set of one hundred, the water suddenly felt warmer, then I could see the lake bottom beneath me. I tentatively looked up at Graham. ‘Are we there?’. I wanted it to be over, and really did not want to find out that there was still another hour or so left to go. But Graham said yes, with a big smile. I could not have been more relieved!

I was directed me to the end point, I got to my feet unsteadily and made my way through the shallows to where they were pointing. I stopped my watch and raised my weary arms. We had done it! The total swim had taken 33 hours and 31 minutes, beating the existing record by 7 hours and 29 minutes.

I could not have attempted, let alone completed this challenge without the support and dedication of my crew. They made this happen and helped me turn my crazy idea into a reality. Graham, Jimbo, Joe, Max, Rich, and Russ, thank you!

Justgiving link

Record Attempt: The Epic 13 (70km swimming) in under 41 hours - July 2023

The challenge is simple, actually that’s a complete lie, it’s really not that simple! There are 13 publicly accessible lakes in the Lake District, UK (see below) and the challenge is to swim all 13 consecutively. From the research that I’ve done I’ve found; one person has swum and hiked/run between them, one person has swum and cycled between them (Danny Longman and his mate, but only Danny was able to finish), and a couple of people (including Danny) have ‘just’ swum the lakes and driven between them. Danny holds the current record (lets call it a World Record!) or Fastest Known Time (FKT) of 41 hours. I had planned to have a go at the cycle/swim option, before finding out people had done any of the above. But on reflection, with the time needed to do the training for both and extra time I’d need to be away to do the actual challenge, I have decided to simplify things and go for the FKT of Swim only.

The most amazing thing about this challenge, so far, is that I was able to get in touch with Danny, he agreed to have a chat, which followed by him sharing his whole planning document. In how many sports do you get that kind of help?! Having this information has been incredibly helpful to plan the challenge. When I had a chat with Danny we debated whether the route should be fixed, or whether the challenge should be focused on swimming the longest stretch of the lakes. Leaving the logistics and working out the route open, to add a little spice and ingenuity to the challenge. We opted for the latter.

I did a recce of the some of the lakes in October last year, which showed me that this is not as straight forward as just turning up at one end of the lake and swimming to the other. For a start, the beginning and end points of most of the lakes I saw were not that obvious or easy to get to. When I swam Windermere a couple of years ago, that was simple, jump in a boat get taken to the start and just swim. Some of the lakes, even with Danny’s document, I couldn’t find how to get to the start of the lake. It required climbing over gates (publicly accessible gates I must add), walking across fields or through fallen trees in one instance. This made me revise the ideas I had about whizzing between the lakes as quickly as possible and shaving off chunks of time there. Much more to think about and work out. I have another recce planned for later this month, let’s see what that turns up.

A few other things that need consideration; what and how much kit will I need, how to deal with not spreading invasive plant species between lakes, what feeding strategy to take, whether I’m going to have any sleep or just keep going for it, how to make sure the crew knows exactly what to do, especially when I become an incoherent mess in the latter stages. I need them to be able to make the important decisions on my behalf.

When I was in the local lake training this morning I was having a tough session and thinking how on earth am I going to do this for 40ish hours! What I keep telling myself though, is that in every long distance challenge I’ve done I get into the zone on the day. Its usually the same leading up to the challenge ‘how am I going to do this’. During the event ‘just keep going, you’ve got this’. After the event ‘how did I do that’ or ‘did I really do that’. It almost feels like somebody else has done the challenge.

The training has been a difficult one to work out. I’ve been progressively building up my distance since the beginning of the year. I was so happy when the lakes opened in April (yes the lakes have to open around my way, can’t just jump in when you like!) and I could shift some of my swims to open water. Doing 10km regularly in a pool is a bit soul destroying, especially when the longest lane session is 2 hours, so the remainder of the set is done weaving in and out of families who don’t seem to be able to spot the swimmers going up and down in a straight line!

About a month ago I started to slow down and struggle with a good (for me) pace. I recognised the signs of over-training, I modified my schedule. Looking back I had been doing 30-40km per week, with the odd recovery week thrown in. I was doing double days to make up the distance between work and when lanes were available. It basically meant I wasn’t getting the chance for really good recovery. But then when I did allow myself a bit of time to recover, I started to fret that I wasn’t training enough.

This is the really hard thing, to train for something that not many people have done before, so it’s difficult to gauge what the right amount should be. I have started to think that with any endurance event that I’ve done – marathon swimming, marathon & ultra marathon running, Iron Man, 1,000 burpee challenge etc… at some point it stops being about the physical and starts being about the mental challenge and what’s going on inside your head. It’s just at what point the switch happens. I know that swimming through the night is going to be really tough, having done this a few times before. You’re obviously tired from all the swimming and on top of that because you’re used to sleeping at night, the body temperature drops and that’s when it’s difficult to stay positive. This is when the demons can come to visit. I’m planning to combat that by swimming some of the shorter lakes through the night. I think the change of getting in and out of the water will help and changing things up rather than endless swimming in the dark. Although getting back into the cold water each time will present its own mental challenges!

What's great though is that when it starts to get light in the morning of the second day, the circadian rhythm will kick in and I’ll feel more awake ( I will I will I will!!! He says trying to convince himself). The weather is going to have a massive impact on the comfort and ‘ease’ of the swim. I need the crew to keep their morale up, so I don’t have to worry about them. Heavy rains and strong winds are the things I want to avoid, but very little I can do about that. The date is set for 8 & 9th July this year. Its not an easy one to change and get the crew’s availability so I just have to hope the weather is good enough.

I’ll post an update after my next recce and update on how my training and mental state is in the month leading up to the challenge. I’ll also be posting a link to a GPS tracker on this blog for anyone interested in tracking the swim.

Swimming the English Channel

I have been looking forward to writing this blog post for almost 3 years!!  Its going to be a long one, so please bear with me.

July had been a reasonably good month of training. I completed 2 split weekends of a 7 hour sea swim on the Saturday and 6 hours on the Sunday, and was surprised at how well they went.  I had a few pains in my hips and legs, but assumed these would go during the taper (recovery) leading up to the big swim.

A couple of days after the last big training weekend I received a call from my boat pilot (Paul Foreman) asking if I wanted to go early, as the condition were perfect.  I had seen photos of the Channel, it was flatter than a swimming pool and the sun was shining high in bright blue skies....literally perfect conditions. However, I had to decline as I was still pretty sore from the big weekend swims and needed the recovery period.

In the lead up to my swim window I became obsessed with the weather.  After months of willing the sea temperature up, I was now focused on the wind.  The weather had turned and it was now looking as though the swim would get blown out.  Then I received another call from Paul telling me that there would be a small window just before my official window opened up.  This would mean that I would be going on a Spring tide (higher high tides, lower low tides, so more movement of water) and would have to swim through the night.  Not ideal I thought, but I also didn’t want to enter into the unknown and potentially have to wait weeks to go. So I accepted and my date was booked, Friday 26th July, 11pm start!  My stomach did a few flips, but now I could put months of planning into action, mobilise the crew and focus on getting this challenge under way.

The evening of the swim my crew arrived at my house to pack the car, with what seemed like a ridiculous amount of kit, and whisk me to the coast.  On the journey down I kept saying, I can't believe this is actually happening.  As we neared Dover, in the dusk , I could make out a flat sea in front of me, which was reassuring.

The crew, from left to right Marcus, Mark, me, Ben, Adam

We arrived in Dover with plenty of time to spare, too much actually, as we had to wait around with nothing to do but think about what lay ahead.  Mel had come down with Toni and Giorgio to offer their support, which was fantastic.  There were lots of  'you can do this', 'I know you can make it'....whilst this was all meant in the best possible way, it also felt as though there was extra pressure on me to get across.  The negative thoughts and doubts were already circling overhead, I just had to keep them at bay.

At last there was something to do, the boat (Optimist) was ready for us.  My crew (Adam, Mark, Marcus and Ben) took all the kit down to the boat and started loading up,  whilst I made a couple of calls and said my farewells to Mel.  As the boat pulled away, I had to take a few deep breaths and try and trick myself into believing that this was just like any other training swim, break it down into manageable chunks and not think too far ahead.

Marcus got the short straw

We were given the 10 minute warning, which meant I needed to get greased up, thick layers of sun cream and Vaseline to protect various body parts from chaffing.  Not a job the crew were fighting over to do!! 

Shakespeare Beach

And then we were there, facing Shakespeare beach, me fully greased up with green swim lights switched on and a black sea in front of me. 

Last drink before the big 'Off'

I was given a quick run down on what to do; go down the ladder, jump into the water, swim to the beach, clear the water, raise arms in the air and the clock would start when I got back in the water.  Easy enough! As I climbed down the ladder I was taking it slowly because I really wasn't looking forward to the shock of the cold,water, but I was shouted at to get in, so in I jumped. It actually wasn’t too bad, the water felt warm, which was a great relief.  I took a gentle swim to the beach, checking that my goggles and hat felt fine.  As I got to the beach I saw three silhouettes standing some way off, then I heard a yell 'Go Matt-Fish' it was Mel, Toni and Giorgio, they had come to the beach to wave me off.  I turned, gave them a quick wave and then walked back into the sea to start the swim of a lifetime.

Nice warm water....

My navigational skills were immediately challenged, I swam straight out from the beach expecting that was the direction the boat was taking, but before too long there was some distance between me and the boat and I realised that the boat had turned, I quickly adjusted course and got alongside the boat.  However, I found it really hard to stay next to the boat and keep my stroke natural.  When I was alongside the boat I was paranoid I would swim into the boat or it would go over the top of me, so I would swim away a little and then straighten up, but having no point of reference in front of me in the dark I just swam further and further away from the boat, until I realised that I had gone too far and had to swim back.  This went on all night, I needlessly added extra distance to what was already a long enough swim.

Just me and the jellies

Within the space of a few minutes in the water I had my first jellyfish encounter, being stung the length of my body and then a few minutes after that a full on face sting, which left my lips tingling.  Suck it up and keep on swimming was what I had been told to do, so that I did.  For the first couple of hours I felt pretty good in the water, I was able to find a good rhythm and get used to the dark and generally felt comfortable. 

Speaking to Paul at the end of the swim, he said  'you were flying for the first 3 hours' which was how I felt, I had an idea of how the tides would turn and wanted to get as far across as possible for when the tide turned so that when it turned back 6 or so hours later I would get the best of  the tide pushing me toward Cap Gris Nez (the closest point of the French coast to England).  However, as Paul rightly pointed out, the wheels fell off into the 3rd hour.

The hip problems I had in training started to niggle pretty much from the start of the swim, but I thought if I can just keep up a decent pace and not get cold I'll be fine.  The pain in my hip  wouldn't go and at one point I felt like hot fluid was pouring inside my leg and down to my knee, which was swelling up.  It wasn't, but that’s how it felt.  The pain only got worse as time went on, and then my hip flexors started to ache and that was when I started to slow down.  I tried a number of things to stop the pain; not kicking, kicking harder, mushrooming in the water……...anything to alleviate the pain, but it wouldn’t go.  It got to the point that I would count to 100 to get through one cycle and them mushroom or stretch out the legs again.  Then try and swim without stopping for a count of 100 or 200 before trying something else.  This went on until about two hours from the end of the swim.

Pretty much from the start of the swim there was a lightning storm going on in the distance.  The water would light up around me with bright white light.  I started to worry that I would get pulled out of the water if the storm got too close and then I started to hope that I would.  This early into the swim and the demons had already raised their ugly heads.  I went through circular thoughts; 'shit I'm going to get pulled out', 'good that means this pain will stop', 'but then I'll have to start all over again another day', piss off demons!  At least it gave my brain something to think about.

Ah, the 2013, an excellent year

My feeds started at 1 hour which consisted of a hot maxim (carbohydrate) drink, I tried to down the whole bottle (about 300ml) as quickly as possible.  I managed to keep all my feeds less than 30 seconds.  If there was any motivation for not hanging around on a feed , it was that I was drifting backwards away from the boat and away from France.  I knew how much energy it would cost me to cover those lost 30 seconds of drifting, so didn’t want it to be any longer. 

I didn't enjoy the feeds at all, forcing liquid down my throat as quickly as possible, to get the much need calories for my body to fuel me across the Channel.  Going from; being horizontal in the water, to vertical to feed and then straight back to horizontal, without giving the fluid time to properly hit the stomach, meant that I kept getting hiccups and reflux which at one point led to it all coming back up.  I managed four feeds of solids during the whole swim; half a banana (ok), jelly babies (tolerable) tinned peaches (disgusting) and flumpy sweets (tolerable).  I gave up on the solids as it just wasn't working for me.  I had thought the feeds would give me the chance to have some contact with my crew.  This was not the case, because I was wearing earplugs, the crew were quite high up and I was trying to stop for as short a time as possible, there was very little contact.  During the night was even worse as I couldn’t even see them, which made for a bit of a lonely time.

Cometh the dawn

Marcus providing light relief

Finally the dark sky turned to grey and then briefly to pinks and oranges as the sun made a brief appearance on its way up.  There was also a sighting of a dolphin, which I was gutted to have missed, but probably best that I didn’t see it as I may have mistaken it for a shark!  At around this time Marcus jumped in to swim alongside me for an hour.  The Channel swimming rules allow a support swimmer to swim for 1 hour at a time at 3 hourly intervals.  Before the swim I wasn’t really sure what the point was of having a support swimmer in the water, but decided to give it a go.  It was another distraction and helped to pass an allotted amount of time, it also gave me another point of reference so that I could see that I was actually moving forward. As Marcus got out of the water the fog started to come in and then it began to rain.  I was worried that the fog could mean the end of the swim, but fortunately it didn’t get too bad.  By this point I was over half way across the Channel and although I was still in pain I didn’t want to get pulled out.  I just kept telling myself that I would have to do all those miles again if I got out of the water now.

The Channel can be split into 5 distinct zones; England in-shore waters (5 nautical miles) South-West shipping lane (4nmi) separation zone (1nmi), North-East shipping lane (5nmi), French in-shore waters (3.5nmi).  I had asked the crew to tell me when I crossed into each zone so that I could get a motivational boost at each point.  By the time Marcus got out of the water for the first time I was entering the separation zone.  I had thought this would make me feel good, but it actually just made me realise how much farther I had to go.  When I was told that I had entered the NE shipping lane sometime later I tried to calculate how long it would take me to swim the 5nmi to the French in-shore waters.  I quickly gave up when I had a) no idea if I would actually be swimming 5nmi, b) what effect the tides would have, c) any concept of what pace I was swimming at.  All I knew was that it was going to take a while and I knew I should not be thinking that far ahead.  I stopped myself and told myself just to focus on the water in front of me, used the mantra I had been given by my son Jack ‘just keep swimming, swimming, just keep swimming swimming’.

The big boat photo

This phase of the swim went by in a blur of discomfort and hope that land was close by.  I would catch sight of something when I turned my head to breath and thought it might be land, but it just turned out to be a tanker or the fog.  When the rain started the wind picked up a bit and the water was a choppier, which added to the fun.

What a beautiful sight - Thre Cap

After what seemed like hours of swimming on the spot, even with Marcus jumping back in for another hour stint, it all suddenly turned good.  The clouds began to break, opening up to the blue sky, I could feel the sun on my back and, the pain in my legs disappeared and then I was told I had entered French in-shore waters….I was close.  I felt rejuvenated and energised, I felt strong in the water, as though I had just started the swim and not that I had been swimming for around 13 hours.  I could just make out land in front of us, it was the Cap.  I could feel that the tide was turning and starting to push me away from the Cap, so I swam even harder.  At this point I thought the crew was pointing me in the direction of the Cap and that I should swim hard for it.  So, I put my head down and kept swimming in that direction, but this meant that I started to swim away from the boat.  The boat had to come over to me and tell me to follow them.  They gave me one last double strength feed and told me swim towards the bay, I was almost there.  

My escort

Land didn’t seem to get any closer, I knew I shouldn’t keep looking up,  but I couldn’t help myself.   Then all of a sudden I could make out the shapes of people on the beach and not long after that I saw Marcus and Mark standing on the ladder of the boat ready to escort me into the shore.  Ordinarily support swimmers only get in the water about 200m from the end of the swim, so I thought we were really close.  I found out later that they had got in 800m from the end as they had to guide me to the shore and make sure i  didn't  drift too far away, as the boat wouldn’t be able to pick us up due to shallow water.

So close

 I was swimming hard for the shore when Mark and Marcus got in as I thought we were very close.  Then I looked up and realised we still had some way to go. And then I could see the sand beneath me, I was so happy.  I tried to stand up, but quickly sank under as it was deeper than it looked.  A few more strokes and I was at standing height.  

The Victory shot

I put my feet down and stood up tentatively, I felt a little wobbly, but got my balance and strode to the beach, cleared the water, turned to the boat and raised my arms in the air to signal I had finished.  I had done it! Then I allowed myself to lie down on the sand.  It was over!  I felt so happy that I had finished, that I had made it.  All those countless hours of training had paid off.  I looked up at the boat and realised we had a good few hundred metres to swim back when all I wanted to do was rest.  I pulled myself up and made myself get straight back in the sea and swim back to the boat so that I could get aboard and properly rest.

Man hugs all round

I can stand on my own, honest

  

My crew were amazing throughout the whole experience, taking care of me,making sure I was fed and watered throughout the swim and that I got warm after the swim and had everything I needed.  I could not have completed the swim without them.

Nice and toasty

Its much harder than it looks

The come down

It has been an amazing journey these last couple of years.  I have had the pleasure of meeting some amazing and generous people.  I am not aware of another sport where everyone is so helpful and friendly, where people give so much of their time for no personal reward or gain.  It is truly touching to experience such human kindness.  I am ecstatic that I have reached the goal I set myself almost three years ago but perhaps a little sad that this journey is over.

Becoming part of history, signing my name on the wall of the White Horse pub in Dover