The weather was deteriorating; it had been ever since I’d entered the water, although the weather forecasters had promised winds that would only be light and variable, with no surf at all. They were wrong: the waves were four feet high, crashing headfirst into us; the wind was already up to fifteen knots, churning the strait into chop; and I was physically and mentally exhausted. I had made an enormous mistake. From the onset of the swim, I’d thought this twelve-mile swim would take five hours, at most, to complete. Months before the channel crossing, I had spoken with Sandy Blewett, the swimmer from New Zealand I had met in Dover while preparing for the English Channel. I knew that one day she had wanted to swim Cook Strait and I knew it was her idea to be the first woman across. But she had attempted the English Channel and had had very poor conditions; she hadn’t been able to complete the swim. Phoning her, I’d asked her if she minded if I attempted the crossing before she had a go at it.
What do You think about Swimming To Antarctica (2004)?
