One Stroke at a Time: Open Water Swimmers Share Their Stories of Determination, Resilience and Passion

PREFACE

FOREWORD

SEA FEVER CAMERON BELLAMY KIERON PALFRAMANMARK DE KLERKTYRONE VENTERRYAN STRAMROODRAM BARKAICLINTON LE SUEURCARINA BRUWERKAREN GIBSONCHAD HOCAREN NAUDEDERRICK FRAZER JASON LEMMERKARON (KIKI) MARXCRAIG NERWICHMIKE PRENTICEEMIL BERNINGHERMAN VAN DER WESTHUIZENHERMAN VAN DER WESTHUIZEN HOWARD WARRINGTONSAM WHELPTONMADSWIMMER CHARITYJEAN CRAVENANDREW FORDMONA VAN EEDEN MERVYN BREMNERKELVIN STEYNMARTIN HOBBSSARAH FERGUSONSARAH HOUSTONJOHN McCARTHYTROY MAYERS OWEN SHEFTZ FRANCOIS DU TOITGLOSSARYIMAGES

PREFACE

I had my year mapped out and it was filled with swimming. My mind was set and I thought my body was too. Four years earlier I had had major back surgery with a full L5/S1 joint replacement and I finally felt like I could push my body.

I had a 2020 English Channel slot booked and my thoughts were absorbed with getting me to that French shore: planning sets, finding training partners, booking swim camps, and researching everything related to training for the English Channel. I was in great condition, ticking off the mileage and feeling my body responding positively. Really loving every moment of the journey I was on.

And then I was struck down. A hard set and the next morning I could not move my neck without serious pain. Rounds of physio and chiro, loads of painkillers and anti-inflammatories, as I tried to limp along without losing too much fitness, my 6-hour qualifying swim looming large on the horizon. Eventually I had to bow out of any form of exercise in a desperate attempt at healing. An MRI confirmed the source of my pain: a herniated disc in my neck. My dream of a 2020 Channel crossing dissolved through my tears as I looked at the X-ray. My identity as an athlete in training for the Everest of swimming was stripped away. Who was I now?

In an attempt to maintain my link to the world of open water swimming, while bound to the pool-side deck and only coaching, I scoured the internet following other people’s swims. I was sucked into recounts that reflected my own love of the water and adventure. Surely, I thought, others would be as interested as I am in the stories of those who have taken the plunge into uncharted and icy waters? In addition to this, I had another mission: I wanted to uncover the secrets to endurance swimming. What was the key ingredient in the make-up of an open water swimmer?

I was encouraged by the fact that so many of the news feeds and social media posts featured South African swimmers doing some crazy swims, but I was also disheartened by the impermanence of the recording of these adventures and often noteworthy accomplishments. I felt these stories should have a more permanent repository; I wanted to showcase South Africa’s open water swimming talent. And so, I began to tentatively reach out and ask for story contributions.

I was overwhelmed by the positive response and generosity of spirit of every contributor. I was excited every time I opened my email and delighted in reading every single contribution. I was humbled by many of the responses thanking me for encouraging them to put fingers to keyboards and relay their memories and experiences. This, despite my sounding like a psychologist, with prying questions like ‘How did you feel?’, ‘What were you thinking?’, ‘What were your darkest moments?’

Every story in this compilation details the relationship between swimmer and water. The thread that weaves through the book is of how water acts as a receptacle for so many emotions and, more often than not, for personal growth. Each story captures and shares a little of the wonder and thrill of swimming in open water. There is even the occasional key as to how to become an accomplished open water swimmer!

These are the secrets that I have uncovered through the various swimming accounts – perhaps you will find a few more of your own as you go along:

doing the hard work – the time in the pool, in the open water, in the cold – provides a confident, solid mental and physical base at the start of a marathon swim;

breaking a mammoth task down into smaller chunks – one feed at a time and, often literally, one stroke at a time – helps to keep the mind distracted and the body in a sustained forward motion;

getting to a point of being comfortable with being uncomfortable;

being able distract the mind when the body is taking strain;

having a reason – a strong ‘why’ – whether it’s philanthropic or one of pride, is a strong motivator;

having a support team that you can trust implicitly helps alleviate the burden of self-preservation and diminishes the mental fatigue of checking in on oneself; and

developing a strong sense of discipline and focus that makes all the sacrifices secondary to the end goal.

In addition to these ‘secrets’, the book is peppered with tips on nutrition, and feeding and training regimes, and is an invaluable resource for any aspirant open water swimmer.

I hope that these stories will encourage and motivate others to take up the endless opportunities to swim in the world’s open waters. To explore the relationship with their inner world and their limits, all the while swimming in beautiful places.

FOREWORD

When Sue first approached me to write the foreword for One Stroke at a Time, I had no hesitation in agreeing to her request! Sue’s passion for swimming, her commitment to adding value wherever she can and for making a positive contribution to those around her, make her the ideal person to compile a book of this nature.

This book provides a fascinating insight into the challenging world of open water swimming. The personal accounts of the various contributors paints a picture of passion and perseverance in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. The mental strategies employed by open water swimmers are both creative and powerful, which is crucial for success in a sport that is often brutal and extremely unforgiving. When reading the accounts of injured lips and tongues, muscles and joints in agony, near hypothermia and bodies on the verge of shutdown, the tenacity and courage of the open water swimmer is laid bare. And when the tears start flowing and the joy of the swimmer and their supporters is described, one begins to understand exactly what extreme swimming means to these athletes.

However, this book is far more than simply stories about swimming. It also serves as the perfect metaphor for life. These stories portray a variety of scenarios that occur in our everyday lives: the satisfaction of achieving goals, opportunities for personal growth, dealing with disappointments, coping with pressure and the reminder that nothing great is achieved without some kind of sacrifice. It’s impossible not to find relevance to life’s challenges when reading these accounts.

Given my passion for all things ‘psychology’ and sport, perhaps the most intriguing concept is to what extent the limits of human endurance can be pushed. I was once again reminded of just how powerful a force the human mind can be, both positively and negatively, depending on what we allow ourselves to focus on. The emotional impact on the reader is unavoidable as the contributors highlight their feelings when taking on some of the coldest and most dangerous waters on the planet.

The insight into the incredible feats of these swimmers is both humbling and inspiring. One cannot help but feel warm and fuzzy when reading of the charities and causes that so many of them support through their participation in open water swimming events. How wonderful it is to benefit others whilst engaging in a passionate endeavor!

Many of the contributors are ordinary people like you and me and therefore all of us can benefit from this book. These swimmers set themselves challenges which they pursue with relentless energy and focus. This book will cause any reader to question whether they are really living or simply just existing. For this reason, I have no doubt that One Stroke at a Time will inspire even the most passive among us.

Martin Scheepers - Counselling & Sport Psychologist

SEA FEVER

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying. I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

John Masefield

CAMERON BELLAMY

The mindset of an ultra, ultra-marathon swimmer

Cameron’s swimming resume scrolls for pages. He is an ultra-endurance athlete with an exceptional track record, and a humble, philanthropic attitude to go with it.

He became the first South African and 11th person in history to complete the Oceans Seven Challenge.

Cameron’s story is about his epic 96-kilometre swim around the jagged coastline of Barbados and a 150-kilometre swim across the open ocean, from Barbados to St Lucia.

I was never part of a school swim team and I only really started swimming later in my life. I had been a keen rower, making the under-23 South African squad while studying at Rhodes University, and I had travelled internationally to race. That was the pinnacle of my early sporting career. After spending 3 years living and working in China, I decided on a whim to ride a bicycle from there across to Europe. I ran out of money at the southern tip of India, so I called my old boss and asked for my job back. Luckily someone had just quit in the London office and so that’s where I headed. When I arrived in the United Kingdom, I needed new goals and so decided to swim the English Channel to raise money for charity. I had 8 months to train and, without a solid swimming foundation, I needed to learn how to swim properly!

I found a coach and trained hard, but only just managed to complete the Channel. It was a very tough swim, but I really enjoyed it: the bug had bitten. I loved both the physical side of the training and the execution of the actual swim. I completed other fundraising goals – including cycling the length of the UK and rowing across the Indian Ocean – but once those were finished, I really wanted to get back to swimming. I loved being in the water.

In 2011, I started the Ubunye Charity, a South African educational charity, along with 19 other guys. Unfortunately, the others have all fallen away but I’ve carried on and have managed to achieve a great deal, raising money through various adventures. I love seeing the impact my swims have had on others less fortunate and when I’m doing a long, tough swim, it helps me when I think about how the money I’ve raised will be used; how the kids we support are following the swim and are being inspired by it. Obviously, the main goal is to complete the swim, to execute it as best I can, but having a more significant purpose really helps me get through the tough moments.

Of all the channel swims that comprise the Oceans Seven Challenge, the North Channel is definitely the hardest one in my opinion. It’s a beast! I have never felt so nervous going into a swim. My slot was very early in the season in 2016, so I knew it was going to be cold – a vicious, icy 12 degrees Celsius. Despite being the same distance as the English Channel, it is much tougher. There are a crazy number of lion’s mane jellyfish which look like gross aliens with heinous, stinging tentacles! They are everywhere … it’s like swimming through a minefield. There are many currents and the cold completely penetrates your bones. Before this swim, I had spent 2 months rowing across the Indian Ocean and I consider the North Channel swim harder than those 2 months!

My mindset going into this swim was to go as fast and as hard as I could. I knew I was going to get cold, and that it could be a matter of life and death, success or a DNF. I just wanted to get it done. At 6 hours, I remember approaching the boat and telling my crew that I was tired and cold, and that my shoulders were sore. I really wanted to just give up. My mom was on the boat and, in her usual stern voice, she told me to just keep going. The pilot said that if I kept going at the same pace, I would have a chance at setting a new record. I knew I was swimming fast, but I didn’t realise how fast! This information gave me a boost of positivity and I put my head down and resumed swimming. I knew I could make it; it ended up taking me 12 hours.

It is a known fact that the cold has a negative effect on one’s psyche. When it seeps into my body and my mind, it makes me feel depressed. When I find myself in this mental state, as well as physically fatigued and in pain, I start unpacking my ‘why’. I know I have to distract myself so I start thinking about what I will be doing the next day, the day after that, the weeks, the months and even the years ahead if the swim is successful. What will I be telling my grandkids? How will I be acting in the future? And then I turn it around and ask myself the same questions, but with the assumption that I have failed. The different feelings I experience between the 2 outcomes is so extreme that I immediately feel motivated to keep going. This was the approach I used to motivate myself in any endurance event I undertook. But more recently, my mindset has changed: with the longer, more extreme challenges, I have had to use a different tactic to keep me going.

Recently I undertook 2 much longer swims. The latter was 56 hours of continuous swimming in 32-degree water and it was significantly harder from a mental perspective. I have had to look at the swims in a more holistic way with regard to how I prepare and execute them. On the one hand, I have to focus on the end goal: the finish. But because the swim is 150 kilometres long, I have to break it down into chunks to work out how I am going to get there. Each chunk becomes a goal in itself. On the other hand, I have to be wholly detached from the final outcome as it’s just too long to think about, being 21/2 days of continuous swimming. It is impossible to keep myself motivated over such a long time. I have learnt to detach from the swim itself and to just live in the moment. To just let it happen: let it unfold and deal with each thing as it comes up. To enjoy the process.

The first ultra, ultra-marathon swim where I applied this mindset was my 96-kilometre swim around Barbados. I was living in San Francisco at the time and wanted to train for the Molokai Channel crossing, one of the swims comprising the Oceans Seven Challenge. Because the water in the San Francisco Bay is cold like in Cape Town, I needed to train in warmer water to prepare for the similar temperatures I would experience off Hawaii. So, when friends suggested I come and stay with them in Barbados, I took them up on the offer and got some excellent training under the belt. On my flight out, I had a beautiful aerial view of the island and it occurred to me that I might be able to swim around it. It felt like a good idea at the time … in hindsight, I’m less convinced! A year later I was back to attempt the swim and I realised it was a much harder undertaking than I had expected. Barbados sits in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and is continually hit by the South Atlantic trade winds, which made this a very challenging swim.

The rule of thumb for long open water swims is that one should train in a week the total number of hours that one expects to complete the event in. So for the Molokai swim, which I expected would take me 17 hours, I swam for 21/2 hours a day, 6 days a week. That’s very manageable while holding down a job and having a social life. However, the Barbados swim would require me to train for 40 hours a week which amounted to 7 hours of swimming a day.

So I did just that: in San Francisco I trained in a pool and in the Bay, and in Barbados I trained in the crystal-clear sea. It was really tough ramping up from 2 to 7 hours a day. My maximum week was 45 hours!

The first time I attempted the ‘Around Barbados’ swim was in September 2018. I didn’t have a good lead up to the swim. A strong wind blew every day for a month. While waiting, I didn’t keep up my training as I was expecting a weather window to open up at any time. On top of this, my state of mind was not right; I was too long on ego because I wanted to swim it fast. When I eventually attempted the swim, I made it about two-thirds of the way around the island. I just didn’t feel like I could finish it and so I stopped. Interestingly, I wasn’t too disappointed because I had the goal of swimming around the island in mind, but I hadn’t been that attached to the outcome. I also knew I would come back and try it again. In fact, I already knew the date: 2 months later I was back in Barbados for the Open Water Swimming Festival. On the last day, as the final race was finishing, a window opened up. My headspace was right and I had the best swim of my life; I was primed physically and was able to swim hard and fast.

I loved every second of the 41 hours. I had done the training and I was well prepared. The ‘why’ – raising money for my charity – was there. However, the most significant factor to my success was that I had let go of my ego. On the first attempt, because I had wanted to swim it fast, there was a lot of pride at stake and a good dose of ego too. I learnt that one’s ego can’t sustain you and that it’s a very negative part of one’s psyche. During the second attempt, I completely lost any attachment to the swim and meditated with intention to let go of any ego. As a result, I loved every second of it and had a calm and measured swim. The next swim I did was 150 kilometres, from Barbados to St Lucia.

For me, the best part of any swim is the start. I found this out on my first marathon swim, the English Channel. As you stand on the beach, you can’t see the finish line. All you can see is the horizon; you know your goal is to get across the water but the journey to get there is going to be long and hard. There