Hello my lovely readers. Forgive my absence, but I've been busy. Busy tackling the challenge I set myself some 18 months ago when I turned 60; that being to swim around the entire island of Tresco which amounts to approximately 7 miles. (Since first publishing this, one of the local boatmen told me it's 7 miles to walk around the coast, but that my swim would have been more like 8 - hurrah!) This is me at 7.50am on Sunday 8th of September looking keen as I stood on the shore of New Grimsby, waiting for Steve to finish his preparations on the boat for our quest together.
It was a still golden morning. The forecast showed a perfect weather window giving us the best possible chance and probably the last opportunity of the year to do this. As I slipped into the water I just wanted to get on with it. I was determined to give this my best shot, but the truth that lay deep inside me was that I was fearful, scared of the dark water waiting for me at the North End of the island.
The calm waters within the harbour soon gave way to the tidal current that washed through the channel between Tresco and Bryher. We had timed our departure to coincide with low water which was 7.08am, but my nervous tummy and his last minute prep made us later than we expected. The tide was now coming in, but the wash we were facing seemed to be flooding in the wrong direction. No matter, we had to push on.
It was just about here that I looked up at the daunting task ahead of me. Keep calm and carry on was all I could muster.
We rounded the headland and the sea became more choppy as Kettle Neck lay in wait for me. I asked Steve if it was going to be OK to swim through and he said it would be lively, but do-able. Not quite the reassurance I needed.
It was probably just around here that I became swamped, gasping for air as the short choppy water crashed over my head with no real rhythm to it. Panic took hold and all resolve left me. I resorted to prayer, inwardly calling on God, Jesus and every angel I could remember by name, asking for them to help me. I fully expected to drown. This wasn't just the drama queen speaking. I was desperately thrashing about, breathing in water, looking for air, swimming for my life. Steve was beside me one moment, the boat towering above me and seconds later it was 20 feet away, as the rising swell lifted and parted us. He was trying to keep far enough away so as not to be a danger, but the boat was my security blanket and this distance further accentuated my panic.
I ploughed on, coughing through the briney waves, digging, pulling, plunging, making the shape of strokes and fighting to keep afloat. Eventually the black water, choppy sea and the rising and dropping swell all became too much and I called to him that I needed to get out. By the time I got on the boat I was shivering and scared. I drank some soup to try to get warm. I was worried - surely if I'm this cold already things are only going to get worse? I didn't voice those thoughts to Steve. No need to, as he was already thinking we'd be turning tail and going home. I caught sight of a distant figure on the headland above us. S**t, someone had come out to watch me! This was the push I needed - I couldn't give up now. (I later learnt that this was my friend Fiona, who was taking these shots for me.) With that, I said I wanted to get back into the water. Steve took me 100 metres through the worst of the slop and I slipped back down the ladder into the darkness again. Before I set off I asked, "Is the tide with me or against me?" to which Steve replied "With you."
That was all I needed to hear. My resolve stiffened and I felt my gritty determination return. I could do this! I struck out, feeling the current carry me along, digging in with every stroke, rolling smoothly, stretching out, scooping the water past me with purpose, keeping each stroke as perfect as I could. I felt strong, part of the ocean's tide, like a creature of the sea, at one with the grey Atlantic wash. This was what I'd been waiting for. This was my moment. Afterwards, Steve told me that this was the strongest part of my whole swim. Maybe my prayers were answered after all.
Swimming past Gimble Porth for the first, and probably the last time.
Looking down from Merchant's Point, Fiona said at times I was invisible.
I climbed on board again for breakfast once we arrived at Long Point, Old Grimsby. Hot soup and banana never tasted so good! The chills and shivers had left me and I felt happier to be entering into the white sandy shores that are my stamping ground. This felt more like home.
Fuelled up, I felt a renewed sense of vigour and struck out again in this more scenic stretch from Blockhouse through to the Diamond. Steve looked more visibly relaxed at this stage too, pouring himself tea from his thermos flask and eating something from his picnic. At seeing this I knew that all was well and my job was just to keep swimming.
The water had turned into a clear pale turquoise colour, relaxing me further as I saw small crabs rear up and threaten me with their tiny claws. Little did they know I'd fought off bigger demons already this morning!
My dear friend Fiona continued her shoreline walk following my progress, taking photos and videos along the way. I met up with her and Sarah (her sister) as I was skirting around some rocks at the south end of the island. It was wonderful to see them and to have some extra words of encouragement.
With St Mary's in the distance behind me, I knew that I was well on my way.
I rounded the end of Carn Near quay, feeling tired, but knowing that the end was in sight.
My support team, Sarah and Fiona.
From here we rounded the southerly tip of Tresco passing through Carn Near Neck where we discovered that the tide had turned once more, leaving my final passage up the channel towards New Grimsby one where I'd be swimming against the full force of the tide. "It was running like a river." Steve told me much later. Initially, I was swimming as hard as I could just to stay in the same place.
It was here in the middle of Carn Near Neck that I met my son, Jamie with his friend Adam on their way to play football on St Mary's. They were brilliant, clapping and cheering me on which gave me another lovely boost. Which was just as well, considering that I was right in the middle of the force of the tide, pushing me backwards despite my best efforts. What you can see as the rippling around me is the current pulling the body of water out of the bay in the opposite direction. Steve pointed for me to go into the shallows, right against the shore to escape the worst of the effects. By this time, I was exhausted, having been swimming for five hours. I stood up at one point, trying to catch my breath, searching for my reserve tank to draw on for this final push.
So near and yet so far. By this stage, cap nearly popping off my head and all attempts at holding my stroke together failing, I was done, running on empty. My arms were flailing about, feet thrashing in an effort to keep some forward momentum. It felt pathetic. It was all I had.
And finally, New Grimsby hove into view. I was almost there!
The last push, through Plumb Island Neck was smoother than I expected and a welcome relief.
The bay along Farm Beach leads into New Grimsby and the starting point of this most epic challenge. My adventure nearly at an end, I allowed my stroke to slow so that I could observe the feelings bubbling up inside me - relief, wonder, joy, pride and amazement to name a few.
And here I am exactly 6 hours after I slipped into the water, back, full circle at New Grimsby. The welcoming party of Sasha, Fiona and Sarah gathered me up, wrapped me in towels and helped to peel me out of my wetsuit and boots. Half an hour later I was showered and tucked up in bed, surrounded by enough food and drink to feed a small army. Two days down the line, I'm gradually getting my strength back and strange to say, I have no desire to swim in the sea in the immediate future. I've done what I set out to do. I'm the first woman/person to swim all the way around Tresco which is no small achievement. A feather in my cap you might say. And with that, I'm off for another nap. I'll be back later on this week. I do hope you've enjoyed this post. It means a lot to me.
P.S. A huge thank you to my marvellous boatman, Steve for his seamanship and steadying hand. Thanks to Fiona and Sarah for their wonderful support throughout the day and to Steve, Jamie, Sasha and Fiona for capturing my adventure on camera and video.
Anna x
