9) Dover!

Overview

Having swum frequently in pools and lakes for the past 3 years, it was time to hit Dover! And what better way than to start than an organised 7-day swim camp. I was excited and nervous in equal measure to swim there for the first time, having done a Dover recce in February to get my bearings. However, it didn't take long for the romantic notion of 'Yay, I'm channel training in Dover Harbour', to give way to the raw, gritty reality.

The Jersey to France (J-F) swim requires the same qualifier as the English Channel - a 6-hour, swimsuit-only, open water swim, in 16° or less. People often say the qualifying swims can be tougher than the real thing, as temperatures are often slightly higher in the Channel during the summer season. Nevertheless, the qualifier has to be done.

With cold being my main concern, I wasn't able to complete the solo qualifier before the UK was amid a heatwave and warmed the sea too much. I was, however, able to complete the relay qualifier... and so J-F just became a relay. All I needed now was a swim buddy!

With J-F being 5 weeks away and the English Channel close to being only a year away, overall, I'm feeling pretty good. I'm pleased to have done some 4 & 5 hour swims, ticked off my relay qualifier and have been getting used to sea swimming. Apart from cold, my other main concerns are night swimming (which I've yet to practice), getting my solo qualifier in the bag and the need for J-F to be successful for my confidence levels.

June 2026

I booked Swim Camp (5-12 June) some months ago, thinking it would be good opportunity to swim at Dover under guidance, get some channel tips and meet others with a similar goal.

I'd hoped to get at least one swim there before the week, so I wasn't totally naive when it came to jumping in the sea with other swimmers, who for some reason I was convinced would have more sea experience than me. But for one reason or another, that didn't work out. So arriving in Dover, never having swum in such a big sea, I felt pretty apprehensive.

I'd booked a quirky, cosy, converted barn for the week, 10 minutes drive away from the seafront. I had one day before the camp to sort my kit and get everything ready - swimsuits, caps, goggles, defogging spray, grease and plasters (for chafing), waterproof sun lotion, waterproof insect repellent, earplugs, water shoes, watch, woolly hat, gloves, handwarmers, fleece, robe, water bottles and tow float. I'm ready I thought.

When I pulled into a parking space alongside 'Swimmers Beach' the following day, my eyes widened as I stared at the ocean. The phrase "All the gear, no idea" sprang to mind. February had been a fun recce, on a bright sunny, calm day, knowing I wouldn't be swimming that day. But this... this was a whole other ball game. The sky was overcast and dark grey, the wind was howling, the air had an unmistakeable chill and the waves crashed against the harbour walls. My weather app reported sustained winds of 35mph, gusting at 49mph - a force 8 (gale) on the Beaufort scale. As I stood taking in scene, I felt completely overwhelmed. Surely we wouldn't be swimming in this' I thought.

I walked to the meeting point, and met a couple of others joining the camp. 'We won't be swimming in this' said one; 'I've left my kit in the car' admitted another. One by one swimmers arrived, and finally, the organisers. 'Right then' they shouted over the howling wind as we struggled to hear through our flapping jacket hoods. 'We'll keep introductions brief because it's so cold, then we'll head straight in for a quick 1 hour swim'. The announcement was met with stunned silence. Errr... exchanged glances said everything words didn't.

We all stood on the beach shivering... and then we took off our robes and woolly hats! 'Everyone in; off you go' came the order. We stumbled over the pebbles in bare feet as the wind whipped round our near naked bodies, then tentatively waded into waves that were colder, greyer, choppier and wilder than we'd all have liked. The water temperature was 14° and the air temperature the same. I'd been in those temperatures before - and far colder - in a wetsuit, but as everyone suddenly dived underwater and starting swimming fast to generate heat, I did the same. The cold literally took my breath away, but that aside, the waves were something I'd never encountered before. Every time I came up for air, I was faced with a foot high white cap, and once I'd reached the harbour wall as instructed and turned round into head wind, the waves became taller still.

I lasted precisely 23 minutes, and the organisers abandoned things after 35. While the video might look a bit choppy, it was a lot worse at eye level. Brutal!

And the funniest thing... the organisers saying the safety canoe wouldn't be going in with us as it was too windy and not safe!

The week's schedule was:

Day 1 - 1 hour

Day 2 - 4 hours (in 2, out 2, in 2)

Day 3 - 5 hours (in 3, out 2, in 2)

Day 4 - 6 hours

Day 5 - 3 hours

Day 6 - 6 hours

Day 7 - 1 hour

Now I've swum for 4, 6 & 8 hours, but not in those temperatures, and it was the cold that got me out every day. I'd swim until I was cold, then until my hands/fingers were white, then numb and then I started to shiver. After that, I knew it was time to hit the shore.

Day 2 was still grey, cold and windy, but ever so slightly better than the previous day and I was amazed to find myself in the water for 1 hour 15 minutes - a vast improvement on 23 minutes in my book.

Having decided to call it a day, getting out the water was another matter. Standing up was near impossible. The waves scraped you up the pebbles one moment, then dragged you back into the sea by your ankles the next. So crawling on hands and knees like a baby became the only realistic option. So there I was crawling up the beach after an hour and a quarter, with a cold wind whipping around my wet body when I heard one of the organisers shouting from the waterline - although with earplugs in, a swim cap and wind howling, I could barely make out what he was saying:

'Ruth, why are you getting out?'

'What?' I shouted, unable to hear.

'Why... are... you... getting... out?'

'Because I'm really, really cold' I shouted through chattering teeth.

'No you're not! Get back in!' came the blunt reply.

'No, I'm honestly done for today' I pushed back still on hands and knees. I couldn't believe I was having this conversation while getting colder still.

'You're not hypothermic'.

'Good!' I yelled in frustration.

A roll of the eyes and a shake of the head followed. I'd clearly disappointed my tutor.

Well... that was awkward!

My coach had warned me it was would be a week of tough-love. She'd encouraged me to really push myself but to know my limits and stand my ground when the 'tough' outweighed the 'love'.

Someone else threw a pair of Crocs at me so I could walk properly across the pebbles, then ran down to wrap a thin towel around my shoulders. As I approached our 'base' with all our kit bags, a guardian angel I'd not seen before (you know who you are) wrapped me in a warm robe, stuck a woolly hat on my head, gave me a warm hug and helped me dress. The sun had popped out briefly, yet I had my robe hood up over my hat, and wore some fleecy gloves and thick woolly socks. We walked along the promenade to a café for a much needed warm drink, our conversation full of support and encouragement. I shivered all the way there, and all the way back.

My confidence had plummeted. I started to question my entire Channel goal and even briefly considered going home. But after a warm shower that evening, a microwaved meal in front of a log fire, and reassuring conversations with both my swim coach and a coach friend who understands Chanel training, I went to bed with just one thought: tomorrow is another day.

Day 3 was a double dip - 1 hour each swim, in weather of two halves. It's always a challenge getting back in once you're out and warmed up, so given the weather and temperature conditions I was pleased with myself for getting in twice. I'd done that in lakes, but the weather and temperatures in Dover that week, made everything I was doing just that bit more challenging.

The morning swim was under blue skies & sunshine with an air temperature of 20°; the afternoon was under dark grey skies, rain & rising winds, with an air temperature of 14°. The water was still 14°.

You know, it's really not much fun getting out the sea shivering, have helpers dress you like you're a 5 year old by pulling a robe over your head, locating arm holes for you and rummaging in your bag to stick your woolly hat on your head - tasks normally reserved for independent adults but your fingers have decided not to participate - then driving back to your digs for a warm shower, dry clothes, a hot drink & some food, fooling your body into believing you're once again making sensible life choices, before promptly proving that wrong and donning a dry swimsuit & robe and heading back to the beach to wade into the sea all over again - especially when the sky has turned dark grey, the wind whips round your bare limbs & heavy rain is just starting!

Over the last couple of days I also found a breaststroke buddy in the group - from Brazil - with whom I was fairly evenly matched. It's very rare to find a breaststroke endurance swimmer, so while everyone was off doing their speedy front crawl, we kept each other company swimming alongside each other in our own little breaststroke world.

I decided not to swim on day 4. The schedule was a 6 hour swim for those wanting to do try for their solo qualifier. Instead, I stayed 'home' watching thunder, lightening and hail descend from the heavens through the barn windows, wondering how on earth anyone was swimming in that. So I popped down to the beach in the afternoon when I knew people would be exiting the water, to be a guardian angel for others who were shivering and tired. It's a strange thing, rummaging through the bags of relative strangers in search of their pants, trousers, and hat. Around us, boobs and bums flashed as people stripped off and dressed as quickly as they could, but nobody cared. Keeping people warm was all that mattered.

Day 5... they say the cold gets easier to tolerate the more you're in. My head knows that, but my body is yet to be convinced. I was so determined to make it to 2 hours, five days in, but my numb and shivering body had other ideas, so I only managed an hour and a half, although with a positive spin, it was my longest swimsuit-only swim in those temperatures.

Day 6 was an early 7am start due to a bad weather forecast later in the day. It was the last opportunity to push myself and I managed to stay in for 1 hour 45 minutes - the longest time yet, although still disappointed I never quite got to 2 hour mark. The last day - day 7 - was a short 1 hour swim for everyone before heading home. And I was pleased that seemed so doable for me now.

Several of us had said at the start of the week we wouldn't be doing all the hours set, but we'd push ourselves to do as much as possible. And I did. I increased my 23 minutes to 1hr 45 mins by the end of the week, which, while pleased I'd been able to last longer each day, was pitiful in my mind, against what some of the others were accomplishing. Having said that, I wasn't the only one out early due to cold; in fact there were a couple of swimmers out before me most days. We were all on our own journeys with different swim lengths, cold tolerances, sea experience and EC dates.

I used to wonder why swimmers talked about air temperature as well as water temperature and have learned - and experienced - how air temperature makes such a huge difference. Sunshine and warmer air on face, back, arms and shoulders - make swimming feel so much easier than cooler air & a cold breeze hitting your wet skin, even when the water temperature is exactly the same. Similarly, waves smashing into your face are much easier to tolerate when accompanied by a bit of sunshine.

I started to get concerned about my aversion to the cold and accepted early that week that I wasn't going to be able to complete my 6 hour solo qualifier for Jersey to France, which I'd tentatively wondered about. So by the end of the week, I'd made the decision that Jersey to France would be a relay. I still needed to do a relay qualifier, but that seemed far more realistic.

Following bootcamp, I knew I needed to swim at Dover frequently for cold practice. Even when lakes and some UK sea locations warm up, Dover is still relatively cool due to channel currents. So a week later, on 21 June, I was back there. The sky was blue, the sun shone and a warm breeze blew. What a difference!

Completely unexpectedly, I bumped into the organiser of bootcamp and commented that swim camp had taught me that J-F needed to be a relay. 'So when are you going to do your relay qualifier?' he asked. I hadn't given it much thought. 'Maybe over the next weekend or two' I considered, knowing I needed to find someone to ratify it. He shook his head; the water was 15.3 that day and we were at the start of a UK heatwave, so the sea would be too warm the following weekend. 'You've got to do it today' he said. What!

Needless to say, I took advantage of him offering to ratify it. It was 1.5 hours in the water, one hour out and another hour in - simulating a relay. I treaded water until I had a thumbs up from him checking his stopwatch, with the sun and warm breeze, I even went slightly over the times required. Such a huge difference from just one week earlier even though water temperature was actually only 1 degree higher.

Once finished, I took a leisurely stroll in the sunshine to the marina in the hope of spotting a few of the pilot boats, knowing that some would almost certainly be out on the Channel. I wandered along the harbour wall separating Swimmers' Beach from the marina, under a spectacular herringbone sky.

On the same day I was doing my qualifier, one of the swimmers from our swim camp set off on her English Channel crossing. The WhatsApp group we'd created was buzzing with updates and pictures of her in dead flat seas, powering through mirror-flat seas at an incredible pace. She completed it in 10 hours, 3 minutes - an incredibly fast time and likely to be one of the fastest this season. Later she agreed to a Zoom call with us all to share her experience and learnings. Insightful.

A few days later, I contacted the J-F pilot boat to advise this would now be a relay swim; I also emailed the JLDSC (Jersey Long Distance Swimming Club) asking what they needed from me to allocate an observer to ratify the swim.

On 29 June, I attended my Channel-specific medical – a mandatory requirement for both J-F and the English Channel. Held in a local (and immaculate) private clinic, it felt somewhat different from my usual NHS doctor's surgery - there was even a piano in reception. I did wonder if I might get a discount if I played a tune or two, but no! The assessment was fairly straight forward and typical, although there were more ear and nose tests than I'd have expected due to endurance swimmers being exposed to extreme water pressure, cold temperatures, and potential bacteria which could potentially lead to a medical emergency in open water. Thankfully, everything was signed off leaving me one step closer to the sea.

Things were happening. All I needed now was a relay buddy!

July 2026

I got into a rhythm of weekend trips to Dover, staying at a small guest house that reminded me of early childhood holidays, on a Saturday night. It's not the Ritz, but due to the good price I booked it for every weekend throughout the summer and it does the job. This channel thing is an expensive business!

I also got some 4 and 5 hour (10k+) lake swims in towards the end of June and early July, and Dover swims increased to 2, then 3 hours as the water temperature increased.

Meanwhile, I'd decided I wanted J-F to be a 2-person breaststroke relay. Relays can consist of 2-6 people but given this was originally a solo swim, I felt I wanted to complete as much of it as possible, i.e. half of it, rather than a third, fourth, fifth or sixth.

Someone had sent me some information on EC breaststroke crossings some time ago. I didn't know them, but knowing they were a serious breaststroker, I contacted them to see if they were interested in partnering with me. Yes they were! So Bryn Dymott became my swim buddy, making us a 2-person breaststroke relay team for Jersey to France - something I've heard hasn't been done before, but I'd need to check.

I had a call with my coach Emma, on 5 July, to discuss swim camp, cold and longer swims going forward - including the elusive solo qualifier. She said the relay would be tough with only 2 people given you have only 1 hour out to get dressed (under a robe, while shivering & with numb fingers - there's 20 mins gone already), get warm (the most important part), get fed & watered, defog goggles, attend to sea sickness, chafing & any other niggles - while on a rocking boat - in the dark - before stripping off and jumping back into the deep.

Bryn and I anticipate 5 or 6 swims (of an hour) each, which Emma warned will become progressively harder to undertake. Yes, fatigue is part of the challenge, but if you've got yourself warm & cosy after your 'turn', the last thing you want to do is jump back into cold water. And if you're still shivering from your previous hour, getting back in only makes it worse.

And she should know - she's just completed her 21st relay of the English Channel and not one of them has been a 2-person. Congratulations Emma - one more to go to hold the record!

Mid-month I had work trips in Amsterdam and Manchester where I was able to swim at pools I'd visited previously.

And somewhere in between those trips at Dover, I earned my jellyfish stripes, getting my first couple of stings. Strangely, the part I disliked most was the texture of hitting them - soft, squishy & slimy - a bit like jelly... you don't say! The fact I didn't see any of them together with the sting being mild (like a nettle), suggests they were translucent Moon jellyfish. I'm sure there will come a time it's such a frequent occurrence, I won't bother to mention it, but on this occasion I wore my stripes with pride.

Bryn and I needed a team name for paperwork and settled on the 'Breaststroke Bandits'. I forwarded the qualifier, medical and temporary club membership forms for us both, to the JLDSC, so now everything is official. We've spoken on the phone, but haven't actually met yet - something we're aiming to rectify in August by planning a couple of swim dates.

Over 18/19 July weekend, I managed 3 hour swims in Dover on both days. Not massive by the standards of some incredible swimmers I've met recently, but my longest sea swims to date, so a milestone I'm pleased with.

These last few weekends has taught me that 3 hours in the sea is SO different from 3 hours in a lake - wind chop, swell, tides, currents, breaking waves, patches of significant temperature changes, salty water, underwater visibility and seaweed - not forgetting the jellyfish.

And one of the biggest differences I've noticed is the psychological challenge of constant awareness - you never really switch off. I'm always scanning ahead, watching for jellyfish, waves, debris and changing conditions, while knowing I can't see beneath the surface to anticipate what's there.

I'm also constantly checking my position against a point on shore or the next buoy, to make sure I'm still heading the right way. Sometimes the waves are higher than my head and I completely lose sight of the point I'm aiming for for several strokes. One day I was heading towards a specific post on shore and when I got there, I was 2 posts (200m) further along, having been swept by wind & tide, but on autopilot with head down I hadn't realised.

Unlike in a lake or pool, I rarely settle into a completely relaxed rhythm or drift into the meditative state I've been used to. Instead, I need to be constantly alert - a different kind of challenge I hadn't anticipated and one I'm gradually getting used to.

The end of July found me in Nova Scotia, Canada. During a sailing trip, I discovered sea temperatures are around 14° and that Great Whites aren't entirely out the question. So I'm giving that a miss on both counts! Swim lakes are a fair distance away so I've settled on a rather charming open air pool instead. Not quite the wild swimming I'd imagined, but no seals, sharks or jellyfish, I can concentrate on swimming rather than wondering what's swimming beneath me!

Onwards & forwards...

What have I learned these last 2 months?