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St Barnabas gave such support to our friends, Fiona and Rob, and their family when they needed it. We wanted to do something to thank them, and to remember Fiona.

Leaping into the sea was something Fiona relished and so we thought a 3km race around St Michael's Mount (off the coast of Cornwall) would be an appropriate challenge (we aren't co-ordinated enough to balance on a kiteboard, so swimming is best we can achieve!).

The three of us (Jo, Elfie and Ady) have been taking part in open water swims for a couple of years now, but so far a mile had been the furthest we have ventured together. So 3km and out at sea was a significant challenge for us all. The event was on Saturday September 15th 2012. Here we've written up the full story of how we got on.

A TALE OF THREE SWIMMERS

Ady Kerry, Jo Osborn and Elfie Gloster

The morning of the 15 September 2012 dawns in Cornwall, bright and calm, the trees outside the window of the cottage motionless like a painting, it is breathless – ideal. There is a degree of efficiency in the farmhouse we are staying in, breakfast is cooked, we entertain Alma by completing a jigsaw and we pack our bags, but underlying there is nervousness. We check our bags, we visit the toilet a lot, we check our watches, and we visit the toilet – again! Elfie said “I feel like I’m going into an exam!”

Remembering that exams were almost always easier than you expected we kept saying to ourselves and each other – “We can do this!”

Ady knew deep down that he should be ok – “I had swum the distance on numerous occasions, either round Leybourne Lake or at Grafham Water in race conditions – this is in the sea though! Leybourne is warm, very warm some days – who needs a wetsuit? Grafham Water was choppy but pretty warm and into the wind on two legs of the triangular lap, but it still doesn’t have the power of the sea. I am a good swimmer but the sea should always be respected.”

Elfie living in Brighton had been making the most of the sea on her doorstep for her training – “Despite doing a fair amount of sea swimming, I hadn’t had the time between work and looking after my daughter to do more than 2km in total, so I was nervous about whether my arms would hold out for the final 1km. The sea in Cornwall is also much colder than Brighton, and I was worried about my poor feet!”

Jo visited the toilet most that morning! – “I learnt to swim front crawl just three years ago and I’m still not completely confident using that stroke, especially in choppy water. I had swum almost 3k in Leybourne Lake during training, but like Ady said its warm in the lake and often mirror flat. As well as the worry about swimming in the sea, I am prone to seasickness (I have been known to be sick while in a kayak) so I did wonder how I’d fare if it was choppy!”

Having been in Cornwall for the week prior to the event, we had done some acclimatisation - a couple of swims in the Helford River on the approaching high tide and a cold bracing choppy one in Porthcurno Bay almost at Land’s End as the tide went out. This was a great idea as 16 degrees is chilly when you have been used to 20+. We also did a recce driving past the Mount on one of our days out; suddenly 3k looked along way!

Arriving at Marazion, the setting for the Festival of Sport, the 10k and 5k runs were in full swing and the cyclists had left long ago for their 150k ride round the lanes of Cornwall. The tide is out but turning as we visualise the route from the seawall. There are still a couple of hours before we get out there. From land it looks pretty flat, and the sea is clear.

A light lunch, then it’s time to don the wetsuit and make our way to the start. Elfie meets Vicky in the changing rooms, a journalist giving open water swimming a try for the first time. She looked more nervous than us (link to Zest blog) and giving her our words of wisdom helped take our minds off our own nerves.

Just time for some “drugs”, sports supplements (a viper gel and an apricot energy bar, to give us energy, focus and keep us going) and Fi’s Fast Flipper team photos courtesy of Jonny G our team photographer. As there is a 10K race starting with us there is a food station at the turn for home, so that might be useful, should things get rough?

The tide is now rushing in as we stand on the Causeway for the briefing, delivered by the friendly face of Annie Thomas, a lady who Ady knows through hockey and is a Great Britain age-group triathlete herself.

After being counted into the start area we walk further along the causeway, the water being warmed by the stones lulls you into a false sense of security. First our toes are wet, and then our ankles, as we walk further we find the water reaching our knees.

The 10k swimmers ahead of us get into the water and then the hooter sounds to start the race. We are still walking along the causeway and yet to acclimatise ourselves to the water. We get into the sea waist deep, it’s much colder than on the causeway, then we duck under the water letting litres of water into our wetsuits. The cold hits us, and rushes down our body, but we know that this is for our own good and will insulate us against the cold water for the next three thousand metres.

Now although a team when it comes to spurring each other on and raising money for St Barnabas open water swimming is all about your own challenge, and each of us had our own experiences of the race.

Ady’s story (completes the race in 1h 02mins 02 seconds)

I dive into the breaking waves and realise that for the first 700m or so we will be swimming into the tide. We are very close to the shore of the Mount and you can see through the clear water fronds of seaweed shimmer in the tide. They are very long red tree like structures which luckily you don’t get tangled up in. Shoals of little fish swim through them with you, the sand looking an azure blue with bubbles of turbulence from the other swimmers drifting by.

The field spreads out - the 10Kers are long gone into the distance, but the route is easy to follow as there are kayaks and paddle-boarders keeping an eye on all the competitors preventing you from swimming too far off course. As Annie said in the briefing, you can’t get lost “if you are the front you have a kayak for company, at the back you have a kayak and in the middle you follow the man in front.” Just hoping he can swim a straight short route.

As I near the first buoy, the waves are getting bigger and I am still swimming directly towards them. The occasional breath is thwarted as you hit a trough and get slapped back into the water, it will be less bumpy on the next leg as we turn right across the tide.

Wrong. This leg is worse. The tide buffets you from the left pushing you all the time towards the Mount, fighting against it by aiming further left to counteract the tides force. The field is very strung out now, I have made progress but seem to be a little isolated. As I reach the turn at the second buoy I catch a bunch of swimmers as I have swum a shorter route. This next leg is going to be easy, two buoys then at the red buoy where we turn for home. The leg is probably about 1.5K, but with the tide.

Wrong again, buoy two to three seems to take an eternity. I can see the bottom and the rock formations below which are causing currents to buffet me more than before. Taking a couple of strokes I look down again and I can still see the same rocks, I look to my right at the Mount I swim 20 or more stokes and look at the Mount again, It looks like I am swimming but going nowhere and certainly not fast. The Mount it transpires looks pretty much the same all the way round.

I make buoy three but am getting tired. My legs are beginning to feel the cold, or more accurately I assume that was the case as I couldn’t actually feel my legs. I am not much of a leg kicker anyway as having started my open water swimming aiming at triathlons many coaches recommend you save you legs for the bike, so I tend to drag them round the odd kick here or there to get away from other swimmers.

Buoy three to four I realised I was getting somewhere as the Mount had gone from my right shoulder and it was now behind me. At buoy four I started to struggle, my stroke had fallen away from its regular pace, my left arm always weaker was feeling cold and a little tight, but I was only just halfway or a bit beyond. The water was so clear I could see a small group of swimmers about 20 metres in front so I decided I would try to gradually catch them without doing any damage to my arm. I reverted to slower longer strokes and caught them quite quickly.

All the training in the pool swimming behind slower swimmers was to pay off. I was going to sit on this group’s feet all the way to the red buoy and benefit from drag that this gives, so reducing the energy I have to expend saving myself for the leg home. This is a legal tactic in open water swimming. With hindsight it saved my race and I was in a fit state to return the favour on the final leg.

The group I was now swimming with was a mix of white hats, 10K swimmers, and yellow hats, 3K swimmers. At the tall red buoy we would go our separate ways, the white further out in to the bay and yellows back to the beach. This caused a degree of confusion with the yellow hats not sure of the route home. This was the only bad piece of organisation, there were no other buoys marking the route to the beach and we had about 800m to go. So after a moment’s discussion the six remaining yellow hats took aim for the middle of the white marquee on the beach front which housed the bar, after all that was where the majority of us were heading as soon as we had finished anyway.

The tide was very much with us now and we all lengthened and slowed our strokes but travelled further with each one. This time I took my turn at the front helping the others draft off me for a while until someone would swim by and take over. As we passed over the rocky shelf around the Mount the water warmed up markedly. This really helped the last effort to the beach. We were slightly right of where the finish funnel was on the beach, so had to hanger left, but the shallow beach approach meant you could run the last 50 metres if you wished. I crossed the line in an official time of 62 minutes and 02 seconds. Unofficially it was bit quicker than that, as I didn’t start on the hooter, but I was more than happy as I walked up the beach with Jonny, our official photographer, taking pictures, remember to smile I thought to myself…..

Elfie’s story (completes the race in 1h 08min)

“I love swimming and I love the sea, but the thought of swimming 3km in the sea is sitting like a lead weight in my stomach. I give myself a mental slap in the face and think of all the amazing people who have swum 35km of The Channel and think ‘this is just a quick dip compared to that!’ I also remember why we’re doing it this – to raise money in memory of Fiona and to help St Barnabas Hospice keep doing the wonderful work they do – and that gives me plenty of courage.

The actual swim itself is a bit of a blur, I go into a trance like state, and keep thinking ‘one, two, blow, breathe’, and focus on keeping my stroke long and relaxed. The words of Loudon Wainwright’s Swimming Song, play on a loop in my head:

“This summer I went swimming,
This summer I might have drowned
But I held my breath and I kicked my feet
And I moved my arms around, I moved my arms around”

Looking back on my swim is a bit like looking back on giving birth, I know it was hard and it hurt a fair bit at times, but at the end I feel elated, proud and exhausted (and damn happy that it was all over!) I even got that rose tinted effect that it really wasn’t too bad, and maybe I’d even do another one in a little while . . . . “

Jo’s story (completes the race in 1h 54mins)

As the swim begins I suddenly feel strangely confident. The swim out from the Causeway to the first buoy there seemed to be plenty of swimmers around me and I felt I was keeping pace. In my head I was thinking ‘this is the leg that is pushing against the tide – if I can do this bit the rest will be easy’ – hmmm famous last thoughts!

I really enjoyed the swim to the first two buoys, unlike swimming in a pool you had things to look at, little fish, rocks, seaweed fronds dancing on the tide. It was all quite distracting and took my mind off the effort or the time. Looking up to my right I could see the awesome St Michael’s Mount dominating the view.

St Michael’s Mount has been a pilgrimage destination throughout the ages – I wonder if it’s ever seen a pilgrimage quite like this one, with hundreds of people wearing yellow and white rubber hats and swimming around it! Although not religious myself, you can understand why if you were going to choose somewhere to visit for a spiritual experience you would choose this place, and this swim felt like a sort of retreat as I had plenty of time to think.

After reaching the second buoy I suddenly remembered that actually this swim is quite far and it’s in the sea and the sea is not to be messed with! Having thought things would get easier, I discovered that actually they got harder. The swim between the second and third buoy was hard, it was much choppier and felt like I was going back as much as I was going forward. I began to feel uneasy and this meant I kept reverting to breaststroke – anything to try and get a look over the waves – not good for my speed, but better for my sanity.

I realised too that everyone else seemed to have disappeared, I was on my own and there was still a long way to go. When I say I was on my own this wasn’t quite true as the whole way around there was a kayak close by, thank goodness as it was this reassurance that really helped me keep going.

When I reached the third buoy I could feel a wave rising and it wasn’t the sea – it was a wave of panic inside me! My googles were misting up a bit which made sighting difficult - not least because yellow hats and yellow buoys look quite similar bobbing in the sea! I shouted over to the kayaker, who paddled closer and pointed me in the right direction. It may sound a bit strange but just those few seconds of interaction helped me carry on to the next buoy. If I had the energy to speak and say “thanks” then I had the energy to swim further.

The third to fourth buoy didn’t get any easier, but I was thinking that I must be at the feeding station soon! As I got closer to the buoy I could feel tears welling up. I was wishing the confidence I had at the first leg would return. Again taking a moment to check my direction with the kayaker helped me pull myself together. Although it didn’t last long!

As I swam towards the red buoy (and the promise of energy gels and an opportunity for a rest) I kept thinking keep going Jo, you can do this. Raising funds for St Barnabas and swimming in memory of Fi meant a lot and helped me keep swimming on even when I could feel my legs were beginning to cramp and the back of my neck stung from chaffing.

Then another wave hit me – again not literally! This time it was the dreaded sea sickness! Nooooooo! I hadn’t reached the feeding station yet – there was still about a 1K to go before finishing, I can’t get sick!!

When I reached the feeding station I found another couple of yellow hatted swimmers holding on and enjoying a rest and some energy and water. Some of the 10K swimmers were already on their next laps! I held on to the platform to take a break – not a good idea – I quickly let go again as I realised the bobbing platform was making me greener. I downed an energy gel and figured that with around 800m to go and the next marker being the finish line I needed to just get going!

The rest of the swim was towards land; it’s amazing how just facing the direction of land and seeing the sea floor get closer and closer as you got shallower and shallower makes such a difference. I began to feel confident again – I am going to do it!!! As I got closer I could see a bald head bobbing in the water up ahead, it was Ady come back in to help me, I could tell he was worrying (I was about 15 minutes over the time I’d hoped to complete it in). Seeing my lovely man and seeing Elfie and Jonny waving on the sidelines I could feel tears bubbled over. It had been a really emotional swim.

Elfie came and joined us for a group hug and we had a bit of a cry together. We’ve raised over £800 for St Barnabas Hospice a charity that was there for our friends when they needed support. This may seem a strange analogy but I think St Barnabas is a bit like the kayaker who was by my side throughout the swim, giving encouragement, independence, direction and someone to talk to when needed. Hopefully the money we’ve raised can help keep St Barnabas travelling alongside families who need them.

If you've read this far you deserve a medal yourself! Thanks for taking the time to read it and thank you to everyone who has donated for such a special charity xxx