Hypothermia in Open Water Swimming

On the channel swimmers group, I came across this scientific study that examined hypothermia in swimmers during the 2006 Rottnest Channel swim.  For those who can't be bothered to read the article the conclusion was that an increase in BMI (weight) reduced the risk of hypothermia. And surprise surprise...  a prolonged duration of swimming increased the risk!  Therefore in summary, carrying a little fat helps but the quicker you do it the better.  


Link to the research paper - Hypothermia in Open Water Swimming


Now... do I go for a swim or a McDonald's?

I only have one job...it's the others that have the work!

My responsibility on The Day is clear. I must simply SWIM. Just keep my arms going round and round and my legs doing the scissor-movement thingy from the moment I leave the shore at

mid morning to when I stagger ashore and collapse on a rock at hopefully 7 or 8 hours later. No fear, no questions, no allowance for pain. Just SWIM! Wayne the Machine.

To get to that point, however, is not a solo effort. I have a support team, and an amazing one at that. Let me briefly introduce you to them.

First up there’s Paul Greenhalgh. Paul was born weighing in at 13 lbs and has remained a solid soul ever since. Everyone likes Paul – Jeremy Clarkson could learn from him for sure. He also missed his calling in life, which would have been following Bear Grylls into the SAS. Paul’s official role is that of my manager, but the reality he’s so much more than that, having
been my good friend for over 15 years and business partner for the last 10. He's my wingman in this venture, the Goose to my Maverick (although women tell me he’s a lot better looking). He's also ever so slightly sadist. He truly believes it will be good for me to break a hole in the ice on some public pond and go swimming to toughen me up.

Then there’s Jon Fryer. He’s my rah-rah man. My motivator. My Stephen R Covey or Deepak Chopra (without the woo). He also trains with me. If you see us together in the water, he’s the one with the eight-pack and the posse of drooling admirers following his every stroke. Even when I was so exhausted I couldn’t lift my ears out of the water in the middle of the English Channel, I just KNEW he was there, leaning over the edge of the boat, willing me on with every cell in his body and ounce of air in his lungs.

In the run up to The Swim, I’m also lucky to have Janice Wright on my side. Janice is a staunch supporter of men in swimwear… err.. I mean my extreme swimming exploits. She’s in charge of communications, and as arguably the world’s best communicator, I couldn’t hope for better.  

And then of course, the support I get from my long suffering and stunning wife, Bernice. My guess is that she had no idea what lay in store that day we met on the intranet 18 years
ago (in the days before internet). She, and my two beautiful children, sacrifice tons of daddy-time as I spend hours away from home training. Thanks Bernie, for sort-of understanding.

Training in the snow

It's been snowing this week...so I thought it would be good training to get some exposure to the cold.

... what garbage.  In fact my wife thought it would be terribly funny taking pictures of me in my swimming kit in the snow.  Then she had the additional brainwave of getting me to lie in it!



Ok... if the Irish channel is this cold.  Forget it.

Colder than cold

I have a friend who says she doesn’t get into water that’s colder than 28°C.  I think she might be wiser than first impressions let on (she occasionally wears leopard print). A vitally important part of my training is acclimatising my body to being in really cold water for long periods. Whoever said hell is hot has no idea of the torment and trauma it takes to submerse oneself for 60 minutes in 120C water.

Willpower. Sheer, stubborn, mind-over-matter willpower has to be mobilised from my unwilling brain to get my body out of the front door on a chilly morning. And then into the water. I have previously trained in, and when the ice thaws will have to return to, Heron Lake.
At 5:30 am.

Having cleared the hurdle of actually getting out of bed (did I mention how much I like a warm toasty bed) and donning a Speedo, the next challenge is to actually get into the water. Breathe-in, breathe-out, breathe-in, breathe-out, and visualize. And then it hits you - pure anaphylactic shock, but without the allergy part.
Excruciatingly. Cold. Pain. Like an icecream headache except that the icecream runs into to all parts of the body, trailed by the pain.
Hyperventilate, hyperventilate, hyperventilate.

All this only lasts about 90 seconds, but it feels like eternity (which I guess is what hell’s about). Those pre-birth breathing sessions I attended with my wife, as a passive observer, have renewed meaning now.

Survival instinct kicks in. And your body, your muscles, in fact every single cell in your being, screams OUT, OUT, OUT! And the only way to deal with this is to muster what’s left of your willpower resources to put your brain into 'body override' mode and swim. Swim like a finned and scaly Usain Bolt. Two minutes into this you begin to feel that your genes might just, just have showed true Darwinian mettle (the adapt or die adage), and that you’ll survive. Maybe thrive even. And therewith starts the day’s training.

What's ahead?

The headline reads: “A 42 year old South African hopes to become the first person to swim between the Mull of Kintyre and the Ballycastle coastline in the summer…Many endurance swimmers have tried unsuccessfully to conquer this treacherous North Channel route – but Wayne Soutter believes he could be the first to complete the challenge”. Yup, that’s me: Wayne-burning-coal-in-the-brain-Soutter.

Leading Marine Scientist and CRS member Joe Breen is clear about the difficulties such a swim presents: “This is one of the most dangerous and volatile stretches of water in the world with many tides converging in the area. Apart from the prospect of searing pain caused by jellyfish stings, Wayne will have to navigate his way through rip currents and eddies which will test his stamina to the extreme – even on a good day.”

Ahh yes, the challenges I face. Let me take a moment to summarise the vital statistics:

· 11 miles of hostile open water

· 12⁰C H²O (that’s code for very cold water)

· The strongest tides in the world, clocking in at 3,5m/sec...yes you read that correctly 3.5 meters per second.

· Huge swells created by the mighty Atlantic objecting to being corseted into the rather narrow North Channel strait

· Up to 7...10...maybe 15 hours of non-stop swimming, in only a Speedo, a swimming cap and goggles.

· The psychological (water) bedfellows of depression and and a burning desire to end the pain of the cold

· Only isotonic drinks and the occasional fish as company.

· And of course, *drumroll* The Jellyfish.

Am I up to it? Hell yeah! Now excuse me while I go eat another two pork pies on the way to the gym.  

Fear

What am I most afraid of?

Straight out I have to say I have an unnaturally vivid fear of sharks. I think this might have to do with the time I was an 6-year old boy, ship (okay, yacht)- wrecked with my parents on a reef in the bahamas, but I could be wrong.

Given that the chances of me losing a limb to a “marine carnivorous elongated elasmobranch with a prominent dorsal fin” (see – I’ve been doing my homework) are about 300 million-to-one, I think I can package the fear.  I read once that I am statistically much more likely to be killed by a donkey bite in Africa. Given that I live in the UK, I should be ok then.

Then there’s the cold, cold, COLD water, but I’m eating my way to better insulation. Walrus Wayne, they call me at work. There’s the treacherous currents, which I hope to dodge with the dexterity akin to Blair answering WMD questions.  There’s also the mental and physical exertion and exhaustion that will befriend me during the swim. But more of that another time.  And I suppose, because I was once a Boy Scout, I should be prepared and consider the possibility of rogue (and very lost) Somalian pirates.

All of this, however, fades into oblivion in the face of - *drumroll* - The Jellyfish. To be specific, the swarms of Giant Venomous Jellyfish, aka Lion's Mane jellyfish or Cyanea capillata, that are tentacling their way around the Cornish coast. Hell, I might even consider re-greasing myself to avoid the potent sting.  *pauses*  Then again, with my greased (non)lightning experience the other night, maybe not.

Greased up

Got all greased up for my swim this evening. Well one arm did.

 In case my rampant daily intake of food (two breadrolls, half a quiche and a token salad for lunch alone) doesn't yield enough blubbery insulating protection, I'd read that grease might help. http://soloswims.com/grease-baddeley.htm

Remember when Frankie Vallie sang "Grease is the word, is the word that you heard; it's got groove, it's got meaning; Grease is the time, is the place, is the motion; Grease is the way we are feeling"? Well, he was wrong. I'm not doing grease. I'll just have to eat more.

Not sure how the gym pool cleaners will feel tomorrow about the residue of my experiment...