Our Life In Miles

Introduction

The English Channel is a 21-mile wide passage between the UK and France, plagued with forceful, unpredictable gusts of wind, rough waters, strong tides and blooms of jellyfish. It is considered the Everest of open-water swimming, and many swimmers attempt crossing it (either solo or as a relay team) from the months of June to September, where the water temperature can vary from 14 to 19 degrees Celsius. This is the story of an all-Indian 4-member relay team from Bangalore, that crossed it on 11th August, 2024, in 17 hours and 9 minutes – consisting of Vrushali, Anuj, Rohan and me (Danish).

Aug 11, 2024, Dover (England) – Judgement Day

12 midnight

We were all sitting at the dining table, chewing some muesli and bananas and oats absent-mindedly and groggily – neither of us had gotten any sleep, and it was showing. No matter, we had planned on sleeping in rotations, since each of us would get almost 3 hours between each hour of swimming.

‘Everything packed?’ Ruchi asked around the table, trying to shake us out of our stupors. She was Rohan’s wife, who had accompanied us to support us on the boat – it was very convenient, as her work took her to Europe (especially UK) quite often. Even Rohan’s uncle and his family were going to come down to the harbor to see us off.

‘Yeah it’s all in the living room, we can start loading everything in the car,’ Vrushali piped up, perusing the Excel sheet she’d made, displaying her Product Management skills. ‘Danish, can you fill the hot water in the thermos? ‘

We didn’t need any swim-specific feeds, since it wasn’t a solo swim. All of us would eat on the boat – but we still needed carb-heavy, easily digestible stuff that would keep us going for hours, without any risk of nausea. Hence, I and Ruchi had prepared an entire bagful of minced chicken and potato sandwiches as the main fuel; potato chips, Coke, some chocolates, teabags, ginger candy and some ready-to-eat porridge boxes were supplementary, personal additions to the kitty.

Apart from that, lots of bottled water, our dry robes, some warm and dry clothes for the return journey, our swimming trunks, goggles and caps, and a thermos of warm water were the essentials. We had also taken an inflatable air-bed and a sleeping bag for our power naps. Anything we missed would just be lessons for future probable swims.

‘Okay then,’ Vrushali got into the driver’s seat. We had leased a car even though the harbor was just a 10-minute drive away. It would be convenient to drive around the countryside in, and it would be economical – considering we had already been in England for 3 months now, and would stay for almost a month more. Suffice to say, frequent trips to the harbor for practice swims, visits to Canterbury and Deal and other places around had milked every penny we had spent on it.

‘Jai mata di,’ Rohan muttered sleepily. ‘Also, wake me up once we get there.’

‘I’ll splash some cold water on your face,’ Anuj smirked, which evoked chuckles from everyone in the car.

It was 1 am on a cold night in Dover, and we were all stuffed inside, ready to jump into even colder waters. How did we get here?

One week after signing up for the English Channel Relay, we realized we had greatly underestimated the cold factor.

‘I can’t stop shivering after swimming even in Bangalore winters, what will I do in Spain and England?’ I lamented to Vrushali through chattering teeth, trying to put on my dry clothes while all my limbs were shaking – I looked like a monkey dancing on hot coals.

‘I wonder what will happen to us in Menorca,’ Vrushali mused. We had booked an open water swimming camp with Kings Swimmers in April to build up cold tolerance and get our qualifier certificates. They were calling us to a beautiful island, Menorca, off the coast of Spain – not that we would be in the mood to appreciate any beauty while we were freezing our socks off in the chilling waters.

We exited the pool, saying our goodbyes to our coach, Mr. N.D Burman. We had been training under him for the past year or so, and under his mentorship, had ramped up pretty quickly. Now, it was time to make him proud.

2:00 am

‘So there’s a problem,’ Andy started, with a pained look on his face. ‘She isn’t registered to be on the boat – only the four of you seem to have submitted your documents and whatnot to Howard.’ He said, pointing to Ruchi.

I stared at Vrushali, who put a hand on her head. ‘Oh damn, we forgot to inform Howard that Ruchi will be crewing for us.’ She grimaced and turned to Andy. ‘Is it possible to register her now? We can give you her passport details and whatever else is necessary.’

‘I mean, it’s really the Coast Guard that needs to know. I’ll have to send someone down to the office, since they won’t be up at this point – and then they’ll need to wake the French guys up, and who knows if they’ll be up? It could take more than an hour, and our tide window will be gone.’ He shrugged sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry folks, looks like it’s just the four of you.’

Rohan looked the most panicked. ‘Oh damn, half my motivation was based on seeing you while swimming,’ he said, giving Ruchi a sad smile. ‘All right, no worries. See you tonight I guess.’

We didn’t expect a setback so early, but at least it wasn’t something that could abort the swim. We waved our goodbyes and climbed aboard, as it was time to leave. Not a great starting, but hopefully it wouldn’t affect our finish.

Vrushali suited and lubed up, and put on her night lights during the small 20-minute boat journey to Samphire Hoe, our starting point. Before we knew it, we were about a 100 meters or so away from the pebble beach, among 4-5 other boats that were also attempting their own solos and relays.

‘All right, just swim to the shore, clear the water and give us a thumbs up. We’ll sound the starting horn, and you can begin.’ James, Andy’s son and the co-pilot, told her. Vrushali nodded and jumped in – she knew the drill, having attempted a solo crossing just a month prior.

‘Wait, seriously,’ Anuj whispered. ‘So then she has to swim some 2-3 minutes extra?’ I laughed – when you had to swim a total of 4 or 5 hours, every extra minute felt like a punishment.

‘All right, Madam sir!’ Anuj declared, saluting her with her unofficial title. ‘Lead the way!’

Vrushali grinned and jumped, swimming smoothly to the shore, guided by only the strong light of the boat, showing her the way. Within a few minutes, she was climbing up the pebble beach, waving her hands in the air.

‘Goddamn, look at her shadow!’ Rohan exclaimed, as the light beamed directly on her, casting a giant, apocalyptic shadow on the tall cliffs of Samphire Hoe. It was an appropriate, albeit terrifying image of our team leader, and we took whatever motivation from it we could.

Then just like that, the ship sounded the horn, and Vrushali jumped in, and the memories of Menorca came flooding back.

‘Yeah, we’re done for,’ I muttered shakily, breathing heavily inside my dry robe, trying to trap all my body heat. Next to me, Rohan and Anuj sat shivering, trying to drink hot chocolate without spilling it all over themselves. We looked like members of a secret cult in our baggy robes and hoodies, on a day outing to the beach.

Kevin Murphy, Marc Newman, Kathy Batts and Ian Muir were the ones leading the Kings Swimmers group – all legends of open water swimming, having done multiple crossings of the Channel (even a few 2-ways) and other water bodies. It was important to hang on to their every word – apart from swimming, there were also multiple presentations and Q&As about the English Channel swim and what to expect when attempting a crossing. Logistics, weather, feeding, staying motivated and mentally prepared for the vagaries of nature; everything was explained. It was an invaluable experience for any swimmer who was willing to invest time and money in it.

‘All right, break’s over. Take off your clothes and be ready in five minutes; I’ll be here with the Vaseline,’ Kevin announced – a statement that would be scandalous outside of open-water swimming. He walked back to his table to prepare the feed for the solo swimmers (Vrushali included). I screamed internally – I had just stopped shivering, and it was already time to jump back into the cold hell.

For us relay folks, our longest continuous swim would be 2 hours, which was the qualifier for CSA, one of the 2 major bodies that regulated Channel swims. For the CSPF qualifier (the other major body), we needed to swim 1.5 hours, followed by an hour’s break out of the water, followed by another hour of swimming. Even though our relay swim was with the CSA, we were doing both the qualifiers. Because Kevin.

It was a really tough week, as we ramped up from an hour a day, to multiple hours with breaks and even a small night swim. As we got tougher, so did the workouts, which made it look like we weren’t growing – but by the time the camp ended, we realized we were ready for the Channel at last.

On the last day, all I remember was hugging Vrushali for completing her solo qualifier and sipping hot chocolate, congratulating everyone around me for a brutal and successful swimming camp.

Now it was time for the real deal.

2:30 am

‘And so it begins,’ Rohan smiled. ‘All right boys, who’s taking the first shift?’ The plan was quite simple – if swimmer no. 1 was in the water, swimmer no. 2 would watch over them, communicate with them and cheer them on. Swimmers no. 3 and 4 would take a nap or eat or get a status update from the pilots, as needed. 10 minutes before swimmer no. 2 had to jump in, swimmer no. 3 would get ready to help out swimmer no. 1 with their dry robe and towel etc as they came onto the boat, and then become the cheerleader for swimmer no. 2. Easy enough.

However, we were all a bit too pumped up, and so spent the first hour observing Vrushali and cheering her on. It was slightly choppy, and the air felt cold, but this was what we had been trained for extensively in Menorca. There wasn’t much to observe outside, as the ship lights were really bright and it was a moonless, slightly overcast night.

‘Eat and hydrate folks, it’s gonna be a long way to France,’ Adam told us, noting down Vrushali’s stroke rate and other stats. He was the official observer for our swim, reporting to the CSA. ‘Keep your energies up, and save some for the final hours.’

‘She’s doing great, yaar,‘ Rohan beamed, impressed. ‘Long stroke and glide, very relaxed form.’

‘Definitely,’ Anuj concurred. ‘And now it’s up to us not to let our captain down.’

‘That’s the thing with a relay swim,’ Rohan added sagely. ‘You’re swimming for everyone, so even when you feel like giving up, the team spirit sort of keeps you going.’

Anuj patted him on the back. ‘Just remember this philosophy when you have to jump into the water.’ He laughed.

‘Oh God Anuj,’ Rohan lamented. ‘I had forgotten about that. Now I’m going to be anxious for a full hour.’

‘Sorry yaar,’ Anuj took off his dry robe and got ready to jump in. ‘I’m as scared as you are – but now it’s do or die.’

‘All right then,’ Adam made his way to the gate, opening it for Anuj. ‘Her hour’s up in 30 seconds. You can sit on the edge and jump in once I tell you. One of you, just guide her to the back of the boat and help her on.’ Rohan nodded, that was his task.

‘Okay, 3, 2, 1, in you go.’ Anuj took a deep breath and jumped in, splashing a few drops of cold water on my face. A trail of goosebumps snaked all the way up my spine – that was enough to shake my resolve.

It was the first of August, as The Petite Dauphins (our team name) stood on the shores of Dover harbour.

‘This is the real deal,’ Anuj announced, as all four of us walked into the chilly waters. He had just recovered from a really bad case of dengue; he had been hospitalized for more than a week, and his platelets looked like they had undergone a mass extinction event. It was a miracle he had even made it to Dover; but the real challenge had only just begun – our actual swim window (11-17 August) was 10 days away, so we had to acclimatize quickly.

‘Oh God, I’m having PTSD flashbacks from Menorca,’ Rohan exclaimed, as the first wave hit his chest. ‘Nothing easy about this – how are you guys so calm?!’

‘Too late, we’re here now, no take-backs,’ Vrushali chuckled briefly, and swam off behind Anuj.

‘Jai mata di,’ Rohan squeaked, and followed. And so, we were at the point of no return.

4:25 am

Anuj had confidently blasted through his hour, even though conditions were starting to get a bit choppier. I could feel the cold night starting to get to me, even though I had been wrapped up in my dry robe the entire time – I could not imagine jumping into the water in a tiny pair of shorts in about an hour. All that kept me going was that sunlight would start creeping in by the time my turn arrived.

Rohan’s face was dented with various concerns; his aversion to the cold, Ruchi’s absence, and his different breathing side. While the rest of us breathed to our left, which meant we could swim at exactly the side we got off from, Rohan breathed to the right – he would have to jump off, swim all the way to the other side of the boat and then start swimming.

‘All right,’ Rohan sighed resignedly as Adam nodded at him, taking off his dry robe and walking to the gate like a prisoner to the gallows. ‘Danish, just keep looking at me while I’m swimming to the other side,’ he pleaded. ‘And push me in if I don’t jump in time.’

I smiled sympathetically at him, as he sat by the gate and splashed some water on his legs. ‘It’s definitely cold.’ He looked back at me, with a sort of calm panic in his eyes. ‘Someone call Kevin, please.’

‘All right then,’ Adam announced, while I signaled Anuj to slow down. ‘In you go.’

Rohan went in without delay, and I observed him as he breast-stroked all the way to the other side. He looked okay, but water tends to hide a lot of signs.

‘You’re good, you’re doing all right, just breathe, think about nothing else.’ I called out to Rohan, as Anuj climbed in, beaming. I handed him a towel, and he took it, making a beeline for his teabags. ‘I’m gonna treat myself to some hot chai.‘

‘Off you go,’ Adam shouted, and Rohan started swimming. He began with rushed, slightly anxious strokes, but soon settled into a steady, relaxed cadence. The Menorca camp training was kicking in.

I smiled and gave a thumbs up to Vrushali and Anuj. He would be fine. Now the question was, would I?

‘All right, so this is Louis Jane II,’ Andy King – our pilot – announced, as we stepped on deck. Andy had called us all down to the harbor to give us a briefing about the boat and the swim a week before our window started. We had booked our slot through Howard James and his Alexa Trust, which raised money for babies in neonatal, and Andy was one of his regular pilots. ‘Louis Jane II here’s the star of the show,’ Andy continued, ‘and with a little cooperation from Mother Nature, she’ll get us there.’

‘It’s all pretty simple really – you get into the water from here, and come back onto the boat from here. Toilet’s over there, this is the sleeping area, and we’ll watch you from over here – don’t block this window if you value your friend’s life.’ He smiled at us, to slightly soften the seriousness of the message.

‘Just one question Andy,’ Rohan asked, and I, Anuj and Vrushali shared some nervous glances. ‘Will I get a chance to just dip my legs in the water first and get used to the cold, before having to jump into the water? I just need some time to prepare myself mentally, and then I’ll be fine.’

‘Well,’ Andy started, scratching his chin. ‘If you fail to go into the water as soon as the observer tells you to, the swim will be disqualified and we’ll turn back instantly,’ he stated, a bit too casually if you ask me.

‘Don’t worry Andy,’ Anuj jumped in. ‘We’ll throw him into the water when it’s his turn.’ We all laughed at that, and Rohan cracked a nervous grin. Later, it would turn out that he would see us through the toughest hour of the swim.

5:20 am

The first light of dawn had broken through the clouds. Blue and orange rays were skimming the surface of every crest formed by the swells in the ocean, like tiny fluorescent surfers. The depths of the water were still a black, unforgiving mass – as if it was too cold for even the light to swim in it.

I was standing by the gate, in a tiny pair of swimming trunks, dreading every minute that passed. In Menorca, the longest night swim we had done had been around 20 minutes long, and even though the water had been colder during morning hours, the presence of the sun would be a balm to our wounds; warming our backs, enhancing visibility and providing psychological relief that everything would be getting warmer from there on.

There would be no such relief right now – the water was actually the coldest at dawn, having let go of all the heat accumulated throughout the day. I was also the leanest swimmer of our team, and even though I had the mental strength to overcome the initial cold shock, I knew I would end up shivering for almost an hour after my swim.

‘Come on now,’ Adam beckoned to me. ‘Push a bit harder than usual, okay? We need a bit more speed right now.’ I nodded – we’d predicted that we would be one of the slowest relay teams in the season, considering we were still amateurs overall – so that would mean we would have to be one of the most resilient. I took off my dry robe (instant regret) and sat near the gate, dipping my feet into the ocean (instant regret again).

‘3, 2, 1…in you go.’ I pushed myself into the water, and my whole body screamed.

5:30 am

“The key is to relax, ma. That is how everything works – contract, and relax. Most people know how to contract but cannot relax – that is why they eventually fail.” – Mr. N.D Burman

Quite a few things happen once you jump into cold water. All sound vanishes, like a power outage at a concert. All the blood rushes away from your skin into your body, protecting the vital organs, like troops withdrawing to the inner palace once the castle walls fall. For a few seconds, your chest tightens so hard, it ties a knot around your lungs, and you can’t breathe. All your swimming techniques go out the window for a second, and your first instinct is to thrash wildly in the hopes of generating some heat.

How do you deal with it? By dealing with it. That’s not even a poetic answer – it’s the very definition of acclimatization. And with every jump, you learnt to realize that all of these alarm bells were just the body adapting; it looked like suffering, but it was evolution. You would feel less cold when the blood left your skin. Your organs would work better at providing you energy with more blood available to them. You definitely had enough oxygen in your blood, so you could do a few strokes without breathing, while your body adjusted.

All the lessons came rushing back, and I popped up, doing a few breaststrokes while Rohan made his way to the back of the boat – I couldn’t see him, so I waited for Adam to tell me when I should start swimming. He gave me the thumbs up, and I was off.

It took some time, but I remembered my basics soon enough, once the cold wore off. Long glide, strong pull, finish the stroke right up to my thigh, relaxed kick. I held a higher stroke rate, hoping to make some more forward progress in this hour. As I exhaled into the water, I relaxed involuntarily. We would all be fine.

6:30 am

As I breathed, I could see Vrushali on the boat in her swimsuit, getting ready to jump in. There was a sort of relief in that, a visual countdown to your 3-hour break.

As soon as she jumped in, I stopped, giving her a smile and a quick nod, and racing to the back of the boat – the sooner I got on, the sooner she could start, and the tides would carry us away a little bit lesser.

‘Good going, sher,’ Anuj clapped me on my back, handing me a towel. Unlike the others, I quickly made a beeline for my dry robe instead of my snacks, knowing what was coming. Rohan seemed to be napping, in one of the small chairs Andy had set out for us. I cocooned myself into my dry robe and grabbed a sandwich.

‘Water’s getting choppier,’ I informed Anuj, between bites. ‘Drank some seawater a couple of times while breathing, but nothing unmanageable.’

‘Yeah, it’s all good. Just think of it as electrolytes on the go,’ he chuckled at me. ‘How’s the cold?’

‘Still my enemy,’ I grumbled, as the violent shivering began. ‘Oh God, why can’t I gain weight?’

I continued devouring my sandwich, reclaiming all my lost calories. The lack of sleep was now starting to weigh heavily on my eyelids; I decided to inflate the air bed – the activity would warm me up slightly, and by the end of it, I could take a long, well-deserved nap.

9:00 am

I was awoken by a bead of sweat rolling down my forehead, which confused me, as I was still pretty cold inside the dry robe. My eyes opened to Anuj relaxing on the deck chair, gobbling a sandwich with some tea. The sun was a welcome balm, and I took off the dry robe, letting the morning trickle into my skin. I cheered silently – no more shivering.

‘Good news, we’ve reached the separation zone.’ Vrushali announced, offering me a sandwich (she of all people knew how perpetually hungry I was). ‘We should be halfway there by the time Danish finishes; so, well under Andy’s cut-off.’

The separation zone was essentially international waters, belonging to neither England nor France, busy with large cargo ships, ferries and mega-yachts – one particular behemoth was visible directly to our left, where Rohan was currently swimming. The size of some of these vessels seemed to defy physics.

When we had warned Andy that we were a slow team, he hadn’t shown much concern – all he had was a simple cut-off; if we weren’t halfway there in 10 hours, we weren’t making it. So far, we were golden; but the English Channel had a habit of throwing in some nasty surprises near the French waters.

‘Water’s getting calmer too,’ Anuj beamed. ‘And my God, it looks so beautiful.’

I smiled, looking at the shimmering, velvet curtains of blue rippling in the morning light. It had gotten quieter as well – the sound of the boat’s engine seemed to fade into the background, and all I could hear was the gentle patter of Rohan’s arms hitting the water. I had already seen such waters during Vrushali’s solo attempt, but swimming in them would be a much more surreal feeling.

I stretched lazily, and changed into my swimming trunks, basking confidently in the sunlight. It was time to make hay while the sun was still shining.

9:30 am

“Life is about enjoying, ma. Ultimately, you should enjoy what you do. Otherwise no point.” – Mr. N.D Burman

The water felt warmer this time – but the truth was, the aesthetics of it all were providing a huge distraction. The ocean was an azure vastness, with yellowish-white rays falling through like a meteor shower. In the slightly more navy blue depths, there was a green-blue twinkling of bioluminescence, as if a galaxy of sentient stars was migrating. Every time I placed my hand forward, it shone bright yellow from the sunlight; I liked to imagine that the sun had thrown me a rope, and I was simply following it towards the horizon.

As I breathed, I could see Anuj and Rohan standing on the edge, shouting some incomprehensible, encouraging slogans. Everybody was too pumped up – the day was warming up, the sea was getting calmer, and we were making good progress.

That was when I sighted my first jellyfish; electric blue, translucent, tendrils trailing behind innocently. I chuckled and remembered the Spanish word for it that we had learnt in Menorca – Medusa. How apt; beautiful, and deadly.

Soon, another one floated by – this one was solid white, with some brown patterns on top of its bulbous head, like a Rorschach inkblot. The brown shapes looked like rolling waves – hopefully that was a good omen.

12 noon

‘Folks, we need to push a bit harder. I don’t mean to scare you, but the wind’s picking up a bit on the French side, so we’d like to get to the ZC2 buoy as quickly as possible – otherwise, we could be looking at 5-6 hours in bad weather before we get any shelter.’ Andy said, shrugging casually. ‘No pressure, it’s just about suffering more now than later in worse weather.’

I looked at Vrushali and Rohan. ‘All right then, time to get the whiteboard out.’ I went to the luggage area, scrummaging through the various bags we had carried, and extricated a large, laminated chart paper and a black marker. We had tried various combinations of canvases and markers during Vrushali’s solo, and had finally settled upon writing big, bold letters on an A3 chart paper.

‘PUSH HARD’ I wrote on the paper, and rushed to the edge to show it to Anuj, who was now half-way through his hour. Mid-stroke, he acknowledged the message with a thumbs-up and increased his stroke rate.

‘I guess we should also do a small countdown,’ Rohan piped up. ‘Say, every 15 minutes or so?’

‘Oh, you can just set that in Garmin. Timed alerts every 15 minutes – just give me your watches, I’ll do it for you.’ Vrushali took our watches and got to work. ‘Until then, just show it on fingers to Anuj – I’ll set it on his watch once he’s back.’

I looked at our team captain, fiddling away with our watches, her game face slowly emerging. We had been swimming like tourists – now we would have to swim like warriors.

1:30 pm

“When I say ‘Go’, you go ma! Like one crocodile is behind you!” – Mr. N.D Burman

I was determined to treat this hour like a triathlon sprint swim. Downing a gel, I jumped into the water, and shot off. My shoulders and lats were aching now, but there would be plenty of time to recover later – as Andy had said, suffer a little now or suffer a lot more, later.

‘Come on Danish!’ Anuj roared, ‘The ZC2 buoy is here!’ I could hear small snatches of sound in between total, calm silence; like putting earplugs in and out again and again. Sprinting in water was always a paradoxical feeling – water tends to calm you, slow you down, and you’re not supposed to fight either; only pull and push harder.

Taking advantage of the calm seas, Vrushali had also turned on the speaker, at full blast. I could intermittently hear ‘The Climb’ by Miley Cyrus blasting through the boat’s engine and my own splashing; enough to hum along to it in my mind.

All three of them were standing at the edge, staring at me, urging me on. Vrushali and Rohan kept flashing thumbs up signs and pumping fists at me, frequently flashing the ‘PUSH HARD’ message (which we had smartly decided not to erase). Anuj was positively roaring, determined to get at least some decibels trickling into my ears. Every bit was helping me go faster.

I felt the familiar burn creeping up my shoulders, and I dug deep. Multiple overlapping voices from Marc, Kevin and Burman sir mixed in with the rest of the cacophony, and I used it all; there was a small chance this could be my last hour, and I was determined to make it count.

2:30 pm

I was about to reach my threshold, when the 4th alert in my watch went off; I was done. My hour was up. I saw Vrushali jumping in, and I relaxed, taking a small moment to shake my shoulders loose.

‘Kill it, Madam sir!’ I grinned at her, and went to the back of the boat.

‘Madaaaam Siiiir!’ I heard Anuj roar, and I grinned. With Vrushali’s speed, Anuj’s enthusiasm and Rohan’s dependability, we were going to smash any obstacle in our path.

The lighthouse at Cap Gris-Nez was clearly visible. In fact, we could faintly spot activity on the beaches nearby, and even some cars along the cliffs above.

‘We’re in French waters,’ James announced, as if on cue. ‘Not too far off now – but wind’s getting worse. I would say we still need to give it all we got.’

I looked at the water, and my cheerful optimism took a slight dent. The water was starting to get a bit choppy, and in the distance, I could see some pretty size-able swells. It wasn’t a guarantee yet. I grabbed a sandwich, shoved some potato chips between the slices, and made my way to the edge. ‘Come on Vrushali!’ I cheered her on, while Anuj started lubing up. ‘Push hard!’

‘That’s right,’ Adam nodded at me, as I took big bites out of my sandwich. ‘Cheer on your team, and eat up – I have a feeling you’re not done just yet.’

4:15 pm

‘How are we still in front of the lighthouse? It’s been almost 2 hours!’ Rohan exclaimed, staring at the lighthouse with an accusatory frown, as if it was slowly walking backwards, away from us.

‘We got caught in the turning of the tides,’ James announced, staggering on to the deck. The water had gotten much worse, and every minute, the swells seemed to be getting larger. It was getting pretty bad on the boat, and we all had to hold on to something at all times. As if that wasn’t enough, the wind was now slapping us around all over the place, with strong gusts that threatened to blow our dry robes off. Hopefully, it was better in the water. ‘Keep going Anuj!’ I cheered, putting on a brave face for his sake.

‘Looks like we’re not gonna be able to land at the Cap exactly,’ Adam confided in me. ‘The wind and the tides are blowing us slightly backwards, away from the coast. Our best bet would be to let the tides take us towards Wissant, and fight our way in. We should be getting some shelter from the wind and tides once we’re in the Wissant bay.’

Rohan was staring the water, on the left side of the boat, where he would be going in about ten minutes. He looked positively petrified – the swells were now reaching 2-3 meters high, with each one crashing into the boat with a scary impact. He would be tossed around like a lone sock in a washing machine.

‘Rohan, this is it. This is the crucial hour – screw the stroke, screw speed, just survive in the water, run out the clock. Once the tides take us further inward, hopefully we’ll get some shelter, and then we’ll do the rest.’ I said encouragingly. Rohan nodded slowly, probably just collecting all his willpower. He knew all this; I was mostly saying it for myself.

5:15 pm

‘Rohan! Move in closer to the boat! You’re too far!’ I and Vrushali yelled out, shouting in vain. We tried writing ‘COME CLOSER’ on the whiteboard, but the sun’s position would make it impossible for him to read it – we just hoped he would move in closer simply to try to read what we had written.

We all beckoned him to come closer in unison, with exaggerated arm actions – it was all we had. It was tough enough to balance ourselves on the boat without using our arms, let alone keep an eye on Rohan and coordinate with the boat.

I had already changed into my costume and was preparing myself mentally, while cheering Rohan on and beckoning him closer. The swells were terrifyingly high now – Rohan was disappearing out of view behind them, at times. How was he swimming in all of this?

Vrushali and I exchanged scared glances. All that was keeping us going was the sunk cost now – we had come so far, no matter how bad conditions got, we would not be the ones to abort the swim. Watching Rohan swim in those mountainous swells, with each wave threatening to pull him (and us) under, was inspiring and paralyzing at the same time.

‘I’m gonna be honest for a sec here,’ Andy staggered into view, and our hearts collectively dropped. ‘Conditions are getting too dangerous, and on any other day, I would have aborted the swim. But seeing as you folks are so determined to keep going, I’m gonna try my hardest to get us there. Fair warning – wind’s not getting better anytime soon, so it’s all on you now.’ He pointed to me. ‘Get us into that bay, and we might get some shelter.’

I cracked a weak smile. That was good news, right?

‘But again,’ he continued. ‘If conditions are this bad even inside the bay, we won’t be able to send the dinghy with the final swimmer to the shore – I’m not risking my son’s life, hope you understand.’

We nodded, and turned our attention back to Rohan. Anuj cheered like a maniac, Vrushali aggressively pumped her fists, and I simply held on to the side and took deep breaths. All I could do now was give our team a fighting chance.

5:30 pm

“When you can’t do, that is when you should push, ma. When you’re tired, or afraid, that is when you should do. That is how you grow, how you get to the next level.” – Mr. N.D Burman

I surrendered completely to the elements, and jumped in. I could feel the water already tossing me about, and wondered how I would be able to breathe in these conditions. Before I could finish the thought, Adam signaled to start swimming. I was off.

It was somehow worse than it had looked when Rohan had been swimming. Every stroke was either met by thin air, or was slapped away by a giant swell. On the rare occasions that I put my hand forward and touched water, when I looked to my left to breathe, I gulped an entire swell’s worth of seawater. Every stroke was a prayer, every breath a gamble. I was trying not to panic, and simply detach myself from what was happening, but there was something fundamentally biological that kicked in, a primal sort of panic when my brain expected oxygen and received seawater instead. One swell knocked my glasses slightly askew, and water rushed into my right eye. I felt an instant burning, and shut that eye. I could even feel light stinging on my fingers, as a school of jellyfish swam right through me – not as serious as the ones in Goa, but enough to disorient me. All my senses were under assault – I was struggling.

‘Breathe into your armpit.’ Marc’s voice came back. ‘Don’t breathe too high, create that pocket to breathe in.’

‘Just keep swimming – your hands and feet are working, you can keep going. You’ll be fine later, you can still see with one eye, just use your left eye.’ Kevin’s voice chimed in.

I regained my confidence, and powered on. I could see all 3 of my team-mates perched at the edge of the boat, motivating me while holding on for dear life. I couldn’t give up now – we had come so far.

Condensed versions of Qawwalis ran through my head, trying to match pace with my stroke, but always falling out of step with the random swells tossing me around. It was like a bad DJ concert – or a silent disco with a different song in each person’s earphones.

About 45 minutes in, I could feel the water get relatively calmer. I was still swallowing quite a bit of seawater, but was also getting oxygen with it. Were we finally heading into the bay?

‘Yay Danish! We’re almost there!’ I heard (or actually, lip-read) Anuj shouting. ‘Shabaash!’

As the fourth alert in my watch went off, I saw Vrushali step up to the gate. She had a determined smile on her face, almost as if she was going to finish it. A wave of relief spread all over my tired and beaten body, a wave larger than any that had battered me yet. It was done.

6:30 pm

‘You know, if she pushes hard enough,’ Adam walked up to me, with almost an encouraging smile. ‘She’ll finish it.’

‘Come on, Captain Madam Sir!’ Anuj roared, and we joined in with him. I and Rohan were particularly energetic, now that we definitely would not be in the water again. The boat was also more stable now, so we could even dance around if needed – anything to get our captain through the final hour.

‘We did it!’ Anuj roared, and started waving a pair of shorts around, reminiscent of Sourav Ganguly’s iconic celebration at Lord’s in 2002. A sort of childish frenzy took over all 3 of us, as we realized that it was definitely over – we were in the bay, the water was getting calmer, and we were racing towards the shore. There was nothing else to do but celebrate.

I quickly wrote ‘FINISH IT!’ on a whiteboard, tossed the marker aside and ran to Vrushali, holding up the sign like I was at a protest. Next to me, Anuj and Rohan were shouting made-up slogans – it didn’t matter now, (I think Anuj was actually shouting vegetable prices at one point), we were just letting out all the anxiety we had been holding in for the last three hours.

7:15 pm

The buoys near the beach were now right in front of us. We could see the very faces of people walking along the shore. Vrushali was still going at it, probably unaware of how close we were, but the continuous smile on our faces would have definitely given it away.

‘All right, tell her to pause a bit, we’ll just get the dinghy out. It’s time to finish this.’ Andy announced, emerging from his cabin.

‘Woohoo!” I cheered, and called out to Vrushali to stop. ‘Vrushali!’ She looked up towards the shore, and a smile spread across her face. ‘Wait a bit, they’re taking out the dinghy. Follow the dinghy now, it’s too shallow for the boat to go any further.’

She signed a thumbs up at me, having gotten the gist of it. The 3 of us cleared the area for James and Andy, to take care of business.

‘We should start packing,’ Anuj came up to me, putting on his hoodie and sweatpants. ‘That way we’ll be able to relax on the way back.’

‘Aah, hold off on the warm clothes.’ Andy came up, speaking directly to Anuj. ‘You’ll need to put on your costume and sit in the dinghy with James.’

‘Excuse me?’ Anuj stammered, midway through tying the drawstrings of his pajamas. He looked like he had just been told at the clinic that there was going to be a surprise prostate exam. ‘Take off what?’

‘Yeah, it’s possible she might take more than an hour. According to the rules, even if it’s only 5-10 minutes extra, you’ll need to go in. Sorry about that,’ Andy chuckled playfully.

‘Come on Anuj,’ Rohan slapped him on the back. ‘You get to finish it. You get to run up the coast of France! In fact, just go to the closing ceremony of the Olympics directly from here,’ he grinned.

‘Come on James, lead the way!’ Anuj called, suiting up quickly. He wasn’t going to let anything dampen his cheerfulness. ‘I’m gonna finish it.’

7:30 pm

It was surreal, watching everything happen 100-odd meters away. We saw Anuj jumping in, we saw Vrushali struggling to climb aboard the dinghy, we saw James helping her in, wishing we had been there. We saw Anuj sprint towards the shore at a stroke rate we had never seen before, powering through like a windmill in a hurricane.

‘It’s done man,’ Rohan turned to me, relief written all over his face. ‘During your final hour, when Andy said he was unsure, I was almost at peace with aborting. But somewhere deep down, I wanted to succeed.’

I smiled at him. ‘Somewhere deep down, I knew we would.’

‘I mean, we’re no strangers to pushing through difficulty.’ Rohan responded. He was right – he and Anuj were both Ironman finishers, I was preparing for one myself, and Vrushali – she was the strongest of us all; a 15-hour English Channel solo attempt was no joke. ‘It’s just, this is such an unfamiliar environment, there are so many variables, the mental game is much more complex here.’

I nodded. ‘Tides, winds, the cold, jellyfish, chafing, swells, the boat, the crew and the captain – everything needs to come together.’

‘And it has,’ Rohan turned towards France. ‘Look!’

I faintly saw Anuj running up the beach of Wissant, celebrating so loudly that I could almost hear him. The boat sounded the horn 3 times, marking the end.

’17 hours, 9 minutes!’ Andy called out to us. ‘Congratulations, mates! It’s done!’

I and Rohan cheered on the boat, jumping up and down. We had not been the fastest or the strongest, but we believed we had been the most resilient. I saw Anuj’s silhouette on the sands of France – it was the exact same pose Vrushali had started with, on the pebble beach of Samphire Hoe.

8 pm

“This is what the team is, ma. Alone, not much you can do. But in a team, everybody improves, everybody grows.” – Mr. N.D Burman

The aftermath of a success has a very different energy – one that cuts through all kinds of tiredness, soreness and sleepiness – and comes and goes, in bursts. We were celebrating, chatting, packing up, taking pictures and informing people on the phone, all at once.

‘Someone call Sucheta! Actually, put a message on the Mes Petite Whatsapp group, they must be tracking us there!’

‘Hello, yeah Ruchi? It’s done, we reached. Is Mama with you? Tell him as well.’

‘Yeah, 17 hours and 9 minutes! Oh man those 9 minutes were iconic, I was grabbing jellyfish and pebbles and whatnot, fighting to get on the shore. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I just ran up and started shouting! I think some people even looked at me.’

‘I can’t find my warm clothes – shall we just wear our dry robes again? How cold will it be? Is it only the water spraying that we have to avoid?’

‘All right, settle down!’ Andy came in, bellowing like a school principal. ‘I recommend packing all your stuff inside this bench here, and grabbing a seat, because it’s gonna be a bumpy and wet ride back home. Buckle up!’

The whole way back, we chatted like excited schoolchildren. How our swimming had evolved, how nervous we had been in Menorca, how many Indian teams had done a 4-member relay, how much effort we would need to put in to attempt our own solos, how nerve-wracking the last 4 hours had been, how hungry and thirsty we were, what we would do to celebrate, when we would meet the whole team again in Bangalore… we only paused to look at the sunset, as we came closer to the white cliffs of Dover, glowing a bright orange. The day was over.

11:30 pm

‘Well, I couldn’t help out as crew on the boat, so I thought I could at least prepare a lavish dinner for all of you,’ Ruchi beamed at us, revealing the dining table that was covered with a luxurious spread. ‘There’s chicken, potatoes, rice, naan, raita, salad, and plain curd as well, if anyone wants.’

‘You’re a godsend,’ I whispered tearfully. ‘This looks like an oasis in a desert made of salt.’

‘Grab your portions everyone,’ Anuj joked, taking a plate and heaping a lot of everything on it. ‘Before Danish eats everything and then us.’

We all sat and ate in silence, with occasional sighs and moans of satisfaction that definitely weren’t appropriate at a family dining table. We were too tired and happy to care, though. The exhaustion was catching up to us, and we were ready to pass out on the nearest soft, flat surface.

‘So, how was it?’ Ruchi asked, as we wiped our plates and fingers clean. ‘Had fun?’

All four of us looked at each other. It was evident we were all too tired for even sounds, let alone words – let alone a whole story.

‘Okay, so first Vrushali started from Samphire Hoe, the light from the boat was casting this huge shadow of her on the cliffs…’

‘Oh man, I was already scared of the cold and I couldn’t see anything, I just told Danish, boss, please observe me while I swim to the other side, I still don’t know how I did it…’

‘And then I’m scared of the cold myself, I was already shivering inside the dry robe before my turn…’

‘The water got very calm in between, we saw some jellyfish, and got stung by some in the end, but these ones are very tame…’

As the energy returned, and the story spilled out haphazardly, like a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle being put together from all 4 directions, I smiled. We had done something monumental today, something beyond our abilities, something we had done despite everything circumstances and Mother Nature could have thrown at us – it had taken everything we could give, from each of us.

And it had given back, so much more.

“What is your aim, ma? To move forward.” – Mr. N.D Burman