English Channel | Open Water Aerin

Are you going through something?

I originally wrote this post on World Mental Health Day in October. I chickened out of posting it, but I think it’s ok now. So let’s talk about mine, and yours, and ours.

I’ve stewed over whether my website is the appropriate place to discuss personal things. My original purpose in starting this blog was to journal my swimming journey while going through a challenging period in my life – the divorce from my partner of 17 years in 2017. It was a difficult time for me, and swimming was absolutely the best tool I had to move past the pain, develop a new focus, and commit to working on myself. I wrote about my struggles and how the water was helping me work things out. This combination of writing and swimming has worked for me in several other difficult circumstances, including the death of my father in 2019 and my English Channel DNS in 2024. It’s a proven method.

Since then, this site has become so much more. It’s a timeline of the events I’ve participated in. A journal about training. A travelogue, of sorts. It’s also a record of the accomplishments that I’m very proud of. And it’s very much a community (based on what readers share with me) rather than just a place to jot down my musings. I like to keep it fluid (hence “Open Water Aerin”) and part of what makes it valuable for me, and hopefully others, is that physical health and mental health – and the way that these two things are just LIFE – relate to swimming. I swim for my physical health. I swim for my mental health. Without swimming, my physical and mental health would suffer. But like any valid attempt at balance, it is an ongoing project and a work in progress. The feeling of flow I have when I’m swimming isn’t necessarily how I’m feeling about my mental or emotional state in general. Swimming is how I try to get there. Sometimes it works and sometimes it’s harder and takes longer. Right now is one of those times, dear friends.

“Under the pillow a little room to breathe
The early morning light’s a pale cranberry
I hear the Aaa-aah-aah not now-wow-wow
Of a siren faraway and closing steadily

Saying Are you going through something?
Are you going through something?
Cuz I – I – I – I I am too.“

Gord Downie, The Depression Suite

So yes, I am going through another very personal challenge. If this gives you the heeby-jeebies, then I’d suggest that you stop reading here and maybe visit some of my other posts. Consider this a trigger warning if you have experienced infidelity or emotional trauma, and give yourself the space you need.

If you’re still here with me, I’d like to tell you what really happened with my English Channel swim.

My partner and I started our relationship in late 2018. As with all relationships when you’re over 40, we came to it with some baggage and battle scars. Despite all this, we built a partnership focused on our compatibility: mutual attraction combined with a passion for adventure. As skiers and cyclists, we enjoyed holidays near and far. He introduced me to bike touring, and we cycled in beautiful places in Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and Italy, as well as nearer to home in BC. We found connection in our shared love of literature, philosophy, and cinema, admired each other’s ambition and commitment to our careers, and shared places, like my home in Rossland. We planned to spend our lives together.

In many ways, our relationship was a perfect partnership based on pure and undeniable common values.

Or it seemed to be.

(this is the gross part, so there’s still time for you to go and do the Wordle or whatever)

Four days after my English Channel swim and 8 hours after saying yes to his romantic marriage proposal on the white cliffs of Dover, as we were about to leave Deal for our London trains to Germany (for him) and Edinburgh (for me), I learned that he was having an affair with his ex-wife. The affair had started a few weeks before the swim. I’m not going to comment here about the timing of all this, because I think it’s pretty obvious that their timing was less than ideal. I now understand the timing to have been intentional, which adds another layer of steaming hot rat shit garbage to the story. He was on the boat, cheering me on, saying “I love you, Aerin!” during my feeds. So yeah – four days of post-swim celebration with my whole support team came crashing down in a shitpile of shock, anger, and disbelief.

My salt tongue had barely disappeared. My fingers were still post-swim wrinkly. I had a lot of media interviews to do. Most of these next few weeks were a blur, much the same way that the middle chunk of my 16.5 hour swim was a blur. I know I was there….but was I really there? I came back to Canada on July 14 and knew I had to deal with it. All of it.

At first, I fought back. I hear the terms grit and resilience tossed around a lot, and I do believe in my heart that I am a resilient person who embodies a fair bit of grit. But I fought back, since that is what I thought a gritty and resilient person should do. I would not let this awfulness shatter the experience of the swim. I’m not proud of all of the things I did and said, although some of these things were certainly deserved. I am particularly frustrated that I lowered myself in an attempt to save the relationship, because in the months of cruel limbo, the affair continued, my mental health suffered, and my swimming stopped.

Getting in the water made me feel sick. I cancelled all of my planned events. I avoided the beautiful lake at the end of my street. I went to the YMCA/H2O Centre where I love to train, and sat on an exercise bike in the gym overlooking the pool, watching people swim laps, glorious laps. But I didn’t get in. I stayed up late. I drank a lot of wine. I smoked a lot of cigarettes. My brain played endless loops of the disgusting scenarios I knew about when I tried to sleep. I didn’t sleep. I mostly ate cereal and nectarines. When I met with friends, I wasn’t there. It wasn’t me. The endless loops consumed me.

At the same time, I was in the middle of processing my English Channel swim. I was aware of the well-known “Channel Blues” that swimmers experience when processing such a big event. In fact, most athletes experience a cycle of lows after accomplishing a major goal, whether that’s a marathon, a summit, an Ironman….you name it. It’s not new, and it’s not unique to me. The hours and hours of training and preparation and anticipation and focus all suddenly come to an end, and then what is there? There’s a void. A void in my schedule. The critical pressure that, for me, pushed me to swim and train and stick to my plan was over.

I expected that I’d have to deal with the Channel Blues. My intention was to keep swimming all summer to ward it off – maybe even do another big one – but definitely to keep connecting with my lovely local swimming community at our summer events. I was looking forward to writing about it, too. Reading back, I can feel the tension in my writing voice.

But I wasn’t even able to talk about my swim without crying. Writing that I had a lump in my throat feels like a cliche, but that’s exactly what I had. I had a giant lump in my throat and a gaping, bleeding gash in my heart. I forgot things. I forgot how to talk, sometimes, which is difficult for someone whose ability to make a living depends on talking and communicating effectively. I declined opportunities to speak about my swim. I couldn’t concentrate. My head hurt. I was nauseous all the time. I was mean and impatient with cashiers and at the person driving slowly in front of me. I was always tired. I created a script that I could use, and when asked, I gave scant details about the swim, except to say that I couldn’t remember much about the middle. A few anecdotes about jellyfish, barfing, and the beach in France seemed to tide people over. If you were someone to whom I gave this truncated and bland account, I’m sorry. Now you know.

I had to do something about it, because I wanted to swim and I wanted to move on. But mostly, I wanted to stop feeling the way I was feeling. I sought out the best counselling I could find immediately in the aftermath of the grisly discovery, and continued this work through the summer and fall as I flailed and ruminated and gasped for air, like a fish out of water. My doctor prescribed anti-anxiety medication to help me get some rest. I walked, and the dog probably lost 10 pounds. I started using different thought models and tried to make a practice of journaling and applying therapeutic cognitive behavioural techniques. I tried really hard, because I’m a hard worker. I wish I’d told more people about what I was going through, but it felt somehow weak or ungrateful or fragile or embarrassing to admit the mental mess I was in.

It took me 16.5 hours to swim from England to France, but it’s taken me almost 20 weeks to be able to write this post – to tell you that our common mental health struggles are that – they are COMMON. When I told people how I felt, the response was often “me too.” My relationship situation is not unique. My partner is not the first person to have an affair, as he so kindly informed me. My post-swim depression is not unique. Even the combination of the two hard things has probably happened to someone, somewhere. If it’s you, let’s please find each other and go and find some water. Or throw axes.

I should have spent the summer in celebration mode, and some selfish assholes stole that from me. But now I’m doing ok, or at least giving it my best go.

I’ve been swimming, outside and inside. I’ve been walking a lot. I’ve been spending as much time with friends as possible. I’m trying to continue to do the work I need to do. I’ve come to some understandings that weren’t transparent to me in July and August and September and October. I’ve done some forgiving (mostly of myself), and I’ve shifted back into focusing on my physical and mental health, my productivity, and the things I want to achieve in swimming. There are many things. So many things. I am starting to talk about my swim with pride and joy. I can say how happy I am that I raised over $10,000 for charity. I’m looking forward to sharing the story of my swim with young’uns and old’uns and everyone in between. If you’d like me to speak to your class or organization, just send me a little note here. (I’ll keep it clean ;))

If you’re going through something, please understand that you are not alone. It sounds like another cliche, but I’m not sure how I would have pulled through without the support of my PEOPLE. You know who you are, PEOPLE. I LOVE YOU. I think we should talk about mental health more often than just on the “designated” day. I’m happy to talk with anyone who’s struggling, any time. I always have time for you.

I am your people. Now go listen to that Hip song (here’s the link again) and have a lovely day.

You’ve Gotta Be Tough: An English Channel Swim

Posted on July 10 by Aerin Bowers

We did it!

With the expert navigation of the pilots of Optimist, unrivalled coaching and encouragement from Brent Hobbs, and Debbie Collingwood’s superb attention to all of my nutritional needs, I swam from England to France in 16 hours and 33 minutes on a spring tide.

I started at 2:30 am GMT from Samphire Hoe near Dover and walked on to the beach at Wissant, France at around 7 pm CEST. I spent ten minutes celebrating with Brent (who followed me in from the boat as Official Safety Swimmer) and a group of lovely French people who were enjoying the beautiful evening sunlight. Then, as the French Coast Guard dictates, I walked back into the water, swam about 200 metres out to the boat, climbed a ladder, hugged and cried and hugged and cried, and then promptly fell asleep for the three hour journey back to Dover.

To be honest, my brain hasn’t seemed to “upload” the swim quite yet, potentially due to some unexpected post-swim information that demanded some extra processing. I can remember sections, like standing on the pebble beach in the dark at the start, thinking “Holy shit, I guess I’m going to do this!?!” when the boat sounded the horn and I went for it. I remember finding it difficult to confirm where my position should be relative to the boat, especially in the dark, as I was told to swim on the starboard side. I do always breathe bilaterally, but my right side is dominant and much more comfortable.

I received my first jellyfish love bites on my face and my forearms about an hour in. It hurt and it stung and the pain lasted much longer than I expected, but it turned out to be nothing I couldn’t handle. Nobody peed on me from the boat, thank goodness. I saw many other pretty and colourful jellies along the way, which also made the experience feel magical and surreal. Sometimes they bumped into me, as if giving me a little nudge.

And yes, despite taking Zofran and other anti-nauseants and antihistamines ahead of time, and relying on UCan as my priority energy source, I still vomited around 4 hours in. If it hadn’t been for Debbie’s approach to my feeding plan, and the magnificent concoctions she created that gave me nutrition, hydration, and pain and nausea management exactly when I needed it, I don’t think my swim would have been succcessful. Because this swim is HARD – and required me to turn on my speed and kick and push and get faster and stronger just when my body would normally tell me to go and fuck my hat. I always had enough sustenance and calories and focus. Maybe it was eye of newt after all. Maybe she’s….a wizard.

The middle of the swim – hours four to twelve – are murky in my mind. The sun rose, I changed to polarized goggles, and I was aware that my left boob was just hanging out the whole time, even though I had specifically chosen a bathing suit that normally holds the girls in and doesn’t chafe. I guess my boob wanted some glory too. I tried to adjust this during my feeds to save time, but she persisted. Oh well.

The last four hours in French waters were hard and forced me to dig deep to places I’d hoped I could access but never really had before. The strength of the current that was pushing me back into the Channel instead of into the Cap forced me to use every bit of mental and physical strength I could muster. Brent communicated this risk to me during my feeds, and I knew he meant it. I could sense the concern from the captain and Stan, the official observer from the CSPF. This is the section where most swims are aborted, especially when the tides change. And given that while I am a swimmer with reasonable technique and endurance, I am not particularly strong or fast. I’m 50 and more physiologically suited to pinching perogies. I have small hands and feet, and I’m 161 cm tall. The “Channel weight” I’ve maintained during my training helps to keep me warm and buoyant (and cuddly), but it doesn’t make me faster.

So – I had to find the will somewhere. I had to reason with myself, and tell myself that I could do anything for one more hour, and then another hour. I had to think about my Dad and conjure his voice, saying “Come on! You’ve gotta be tough!!” I had to use the power of the words of the people on the boat, who believed in me. Somehow, the shore grew closer, and then I was standing. And then I was walking, and crying, and clearing the water on all sides as required.

🎥: Debbie Collingwood

There were many more people who contributed to this effort. People who paddled for me, like Scott. People who built kick-ass training plans, like Amy. People who swam with me, put in kilometres alongside me, and urged me to get in the water, like Phred. People who saw that I wasn’t actually very tough, like my RMT Terry Downs who watched me levitate when she tried to work on my neck. And Jess Deglau, who is an amazing physiotherapist AND one of Canada’s best butterfliers ever. Emma France from Dover Channel Training, who introduced me to UCan.

Holger. My Mum. The Hoffmans. Nicole and Craig. Martyn. Kylie and Robynne. Donna and Don. Brendan. Sarah. My ATLS SwimSquad. Gary and Jane and the lovely champagne!

And Catherine Taylor-Ludolf. Without her kind and selfless offer to switch spots, I would have had to wait until September, 2026 to attempt my English Channel Swim. I know she’s gonna smash it out of the park. She’s such a star.

I also just achieved my fundraising goal. I raised $10,000 for Canadian Tire Jumpstart Children’s Charities through the generous donations from people all over the world, including The Earl of Sandwich, who we met on the train from London to Dover. Many people donated twice – which truly makes my heart grow three sizes. Jumpstart has been a dream to work with. I will keep my donation page open as long as folks are interested.

After a few emotional days in Edinburgh, I sit on the grass in London Fields, where I’m just about to have a swim at my favourite London Lido. Everything is going to be ok, and maybe this is just the beginning.

Everything is ok and maybe this is just the beginning. ♥️

Off We Go!

Posted on June 27 by Aerin Bowers

I’m writing this from the Kelowna airport, where I’m impatiently waiting to board my flight to Toronto, and then London, England!

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of preparations, packing, and handling last minute details. Ran out of time to get my hair and nails done, but at least I remembered to shave my armpits and moisturize my heels, which are also important aspects of an English Channel swim.

I completed my peak week of training in Slocan Lake, which at 15 degrees was the coldest body of water within reach. Extra special thanks are due to Craig and Nicole for the lovely hospitality (and cracking sauna), and Scott for the expert paddling in some crazy Kootenay conditions!

Since then I’ve tapered and sharpened and hydrated and slept and eaten, and finished a very important second quarter at my real job! I’ve connected with my pilot, Paul Foreman, and we are hoping to set off on the good ship Optimist very early next week. I will post updates here, on Instagram, and in a public WhatsApp group that you can join here. Trackers for the swim can be found here (select the boat Optimist at the top) and here.

I’m so grateful to Canadian Tire Jumpstart Children’s Charities for their support, and encourage you to help them on their quest to ensure that every Canadian kid has the chance to participate in sports and activities. Over 4 million kids have accessed Jumpstart grants – let’s help another 4 million do the things they love! I’m getting very close to my fundraising goal of $10,000 thanks to so many generous people. Every dollar goes directly to Jumpstart, and potentially to a kid with a big dream, like swimming the English Channel.

Extra special thanks go to my coach Brent Hobbs, my best pal Debbie Collingwood, and my love Holger Andreas for stepping up to crew my swim. The dream team/motley crew will convene in Jolly London tomorrow morning, and then off to Dover we go! Get ready for some silly walks, Spam jokes, and German efficiency. I’m hoping for a very short trip on the Dovercoaster this time. Stay tuned and thanks for following my grand adventure!

Jumpstart Month: My Why

Posted on June 16 by Aerin Bowers

June is Jumpstart Month, and I’m excited to ramp up my fundraising campaign in support of this awesome Canadian charity.

I started my campaign about a year ago, aiming to raise $10,000 ahead of my September attempt to swim the English Channel. I didn’t get a chance to swim, but proudly raised over $5000 toward my goal. I am very lucky to have been given another chance to swim this July, so I’m focusing my efforts to get to the $10,000 mark and beyond!

I am so grateful for Jumpstart’s support for my swim, and it’s truly my honour to help raise money that goes directly to enabling kids across Canada to pursue their interests. Jumpstart grants provide financial relief for families so that children can participate in sports and other activities. Jumpstart also funds many projects that create more accessible communities – places and spaces for kids of all abilities to play and grow. I am drawn to Jumpstart because of their positive impact on individual kids, families, and communities.

As a swimmer who grew up also taking dance lessons, playing club volleyball, softball, downhill ski racing, and attending summer sport camps, I benefitted greatly from the opportunity to develop as a young athlete and team member. My parents fundraised and volunteered tirelessly to pay for my sister’s and my activities. I hate to think of a kid who can’t join a swim club, or a tennis team, or take mountain biking lessons or Highland dancing because of financial limitations. Jumpstart’s grants break down the barriers so that kids can do what they love, try new activities, and stay healthy and connected in their communities.

Jumpstart has provided access to sport over 4 million kids – and they’re just getting started! Your donation goes directly to helping kids play the sports they love and pursue their dreams.

Can you help me get to $10,000?

Trusting the Process: One Month To Go

Posted on May 30 by Aerin Bowers

One month from now, I will be in Jolly England with a score to settle. While the rest of my compatriots celebrate Canada Day with fireworks and Fireball, I’ll be nervously watching the wind forecast from my seat on the Dovercoaster.

Just kidding – I’m not really the score-settling type. But I’m not gonna deny that this time feels very different than the last time I was a month away from an attempt to swim the English Channel.

What’s different?

Last year’s open water training ramp was a lot longer, from May to the end of September. It also included a number of the Across the Lake Swim events as well as my Around Coronado Swim. At the end of August 2024, I’d been really giving it my all for 4-5 months. I was extremely well-conditioned, but I was also pretty tired, and dealing with the expected aches and pains of a woman of my vintage. This time my distance building ramp is a lot shorter, mostly because of the short window of open water swimming in a survivable temperature in our chilly Canadian lakes. Once the temperature hits 12 degrees, I’m generally good to go. Most of my build has been done in the pool during March and April, where I focused on speed and technique, as well as building my weekly back-to-back distance swims.

I’m just about to start my final big distance build cycle before a short pre-window taper. Coming up are a five and a two, a six and a three, a six and a seven, a three and a two, and a two and a two. I will additionally swim three times each week in the pool, continuing to work on technique and speed. On the weekends, I swim back-to-back long slow swims, which is a proven method of training and conditioning for ultra-distance athletes. These long slow swims allow me to relax into the extended period of time both physically, psychologically, and emotionally. I have to accept that there will be boredom and there will be pain. Without fail, I say to myself, “This is what you’re doing today.” at the beginning of each long swim, which creates the mindset I need to endure the time. Long and slow is the name of the game, like a snail doing laps in a bathtub.

That’s not to say that once I accept that “this is what I’m doing today” it becomes easier or less painful, just that acceptance sort of allows me to focus on getting started and settling in. I never know how I’m going to feel three hours in. Last week I swam a five hour in Victoria’s Thetis Lake and had the absolute worst time of my life during hours two and three. My neck burned and screamed at me. My arms complained and nagged. My shoulders called me every bad name in the book. But somehow, hours four and five got better. In some ways, each swim is a lifetime. And in the same way that some people forget the pain of childbirth or suppress trauma, my body and mind allow me to get back in the water the next day to do it all over again, and often I feel better and swim better the next day. Research supports the practice of doing between 50-75% of the distance you’re going to do in your event over back-to-back days. This is the proof that I cling to, partly because it worked for me last year, but also because I believe that it’s necessary to “trust the process” to become properly psychologically ready.

Part of being able to put my body through this amount of training is the necessity of massage and physiotherapy. Rest assured that my benefit limits have long been reached by this point, but I have learned to never scrimp on these crucial services. I work with exceptional professionals who understand my goals and provide treatments that are often specific to the overuse of certain parts of my body; namely my neck and shoulders. I’m in the gym twice a week working on strength, balance, and flexibility, and I use a foam roller, the old “tennis ball in a sock”, and any doorway I can hang from at home. I’m at the point where I can barely shoulder-check when driving, so I mostly ride my bike instead! I’m grateful to Jessica and Terry for putting up with my big baby tantrums and resistance to having my neck touched. I’m also grateful to Holger, and Scott, and Debbie, and my Mum, and Phred, and Brent, and everyone else who listens to me ramble on about my training and my FEELINGS.

The Oru Kayak that gets this snail around the bathtub.

With all this structure, it’s still difficult to “trust the process” and feel confident that I have enough volume under my belt. In fact, I worry about it all the time. The main thing is to get to the day and believe it on that day, and I work on that every day.

Post-swim golden hour at Sarsons Beach, Kelowna

Here’s what’s coming up next, for those who like to be in the loop:

June is Jumpstart Month, and I’ll be kicking my fundraising campaign into high gear! Stay tuned for the fun, and please follow me on Instagram for inspiring content about my WHY, my swim, and how your generous donation can help kids access the activities they love, without financial barriers.
As mentioned, the BIG BACK-TO-BACKS start pretty much now, and I love getting messages of support to help me push through these long training swims.
I’ll be honing and refining my nutrition plan to prevent the barforamas of the past. I’m looking forward to sharing what works for me in both training and on the day, since so many people have reached out to me with similar issues.
I haven’t yet decided on my wardrobe for the day of the swim, but I have narrowed my options to a few solid choices and I’d love your feedback.

Thanks for reading and supporting and cheering and challenging me – this is all part of the process that I am learning to trust, and knowing I’m not alone and have all of you in my Quackpacker makes a massive difference.

The Big News

Posted on April 3 by Aerin Bowers

As many of you know, I was supposed to swim across the English Channel last September. The weather gods made other plans, so I waited around in Dover for 7 days but didn’t get a chance to swim. Swimmers call this period of waiting and wondering and hoping and despairing “the Dovercoaster” and I rode it like I stole it.

I had a few months to lick my wounds and process the disappointment, and soon enough I refocused my training for an attempt at California’s Catalina Channel in late June. And then in late February, world events (that I won’t get into here) impacting the safety, security and sovereignty of Canada led me to a decision to cancel my Catalina slot to avoid travel to the US. Without an official BIG SWIM in the plan, I thought about things like joining a square-dancing club, becoming a tradwife and learning to pickle, or unicycling to the Yukon – all worthwhile pursuits but not what my chlorinated little heart really desired. I would just have to wait until September 2026 for my chance to swim the Channel.

I’d been off Facebook for a while but found myself back in different swimming groups to look for someone to take my Catalina slot. And the day after I canceled it, I noticed a video with a story that would change everything. The person in the video – an accomplished marathon and ice swimmer in the UK – had been training for an English Channel attempt in July 2025, but an unexpected and necessary medical intervention would make that date impossible. She was looking for someone with a later booking who might want to swap.

It dawned on me. She was looking for someone with a later booking who wanted… to….SWAP!

She was looking for me!

I sent a message saying that indeed I would love to swap my September 2026 window for a new window of July 1-10,k 2025. She responded, and through some truly wonderful conversations we decided to move forward with requests to our respective pilots and the two Channel Swimming governing bodies. It seemed to happen all in a happy, dreamy blur – the pilots agreed, the governing bodies agreed, some paperwork and international transfers happened, and there you have it. I WILL swim this year!

I am so grateful to Catherine for putting it out there. I know she’ll be back and ready to smash it come next September, and I will do everything in my power to honour her generosity and swim my best swim ever in July.

Which means….that I’ve purchased another ticket for the Dovercoaster, and it’s a mere 18 weeks away. My window opens on July 1, which happens to be Canada Day. And I think that’s quite a perfect day to do something awesome, especially this year. I confirmed my intrepid support team (stay tuned…although I can say that Brent the Beaver is back to remind me to keep my elbows up, the decorated Triple Crown swimmer Debbie Collingwood will keep me focused, and a certain German that I love dearly will be frying weinerschnitzel on the boat.)

I’ve renewed my fundraising campaign with Jumpstart Children’s Charities. Having raised over $5000 toward my goal of $10,000, I know I can get there this year! I am honoured to partner with a Canadian organization making such an impact on the lives of children all over the country by removing financial barriers so that they can experience the activities they are passionate about.

Buckle up, ‘coz the Dovercoaster rides again! That’s the news!

The Best of 2024 and Beyond: These are a few of my favourite things

Posted on March 17 by Aerin Bowers

I’ve never done a “best of” despite having many favourite things, things I’m trying, and places I’m exploring. I also like the idea of giving kudos just because, and because sharing is caring in the real world and the world of open water swimming. I realize that it’s March and awards season is pretty much over, but credit where credit is due can and should be given no matter the season. If you read all the way to the end, you’ll find another reason why I’m in the mood for caring and sharing. (Whee!)

Best Swim of 2024

My best swim was June’s Around Coronado Island, supported by Dan Simonelli and Summer Wesson. It was my first big real ocean swim, and it tested my ability to set my (shark) fears aside and just swim. At night! In the open ocean! San Diego means a lot to me, and I had a great time during my visit. Dan’s guidance before and during the swim makes this one you don’t want to miss. Swimming into the San Diego sunrise…..I’d totally do it again.

Best Race

It’s a toss-up. I had such a blast with my BC swimming community in the Across the Lake Swim Series, which takes place from July – September. Last summer I swam the Rattlesnake Island 7 km, Kalmalka Lake 4.5 km, the Skaha Lake 11.8 km, and the Gellatly Bay 5 km. My favourite? It has to be Skaha, because I love this distance, this lake, and I swam a really good swim with top-notch support. This year the ATLS is adding more swims In Osoyoos and Shuswap Lake, plus a 10 km Kalmalka event to get excited about – check it out and if you want a discount code, I’m your gal. HMU. You can also camp in my yard. Well, maybe not for the whole summer.

Best Goggles

As a long-time Speedo Vanquisher wearer, I didn’t think I’d ever switch to another brand. The little nosepieces can be fiddly and dig into the sides of my schnoz though, so I sought out a new style with a larger eye frame and moulded bridge. I settled on the Roka R1, and bought both the clear (for night) and the cobalt mirror (for sunshiny days). I use them in the pool and the open water, interchangeably. I noticed an improvement in comfort right away, and I really like the slightly wider lens and how they don’t fog, as long as I give them a regular wash with dish soap. I still get the post-swim goggle-eyes, but I’ve sort of accepted that goggle-eyes are par for the (long) course and make me look wise like an owl.

Best Swimsuit

Swimmers, bathers, cossie, banana hammock (for dudes) – not the bane of my existence, but certainly necessary if you want to participate in family-friendly daytime events and not scare children, lifeguards, or people relaxing on their docks. I wore Q Swimwear exclusively for several years, and I love the extensive and fun selection of patterns and designs they offer. Then I decided that maybe half my bum hanging out would be acceptable (to most people), and I ventured into the colourful world of Jolyn. I liked both the “Brandon” and the “Devon” which come in size 38 and offer that partial coverage that is becoming of a woman of my vintage. I recently upgraded to the “Caroline”, which is my favourite suit ever. It contains my bosoms while still fitting a little high-cut, and I am the toast of the hot tub. They’re pricey and they no longer have a Canadian website, but damn I love this brand. I bought a bikini too, a black one – but I only wear it while drinking Aperol Spritzes in Rapperswil, darling.

In the interest of buying Canadian (for reasons that must be obvious), I searched far and wide for a Canadian swimsuit company and was introduced to Rise Swimsuits out of Vancouver, BC. I love their enthusiastic support of women in open water, and I love their bright and vibrant designs. With some very helpful Instagram chat assistance for sizing, I ordered 3 suits that are on their way to me now!

Best Hair & Body Products

I like Malibu Swimmer’s Wellness because it smells like blue lemonade Koolaid, the bottle reminds me of the hand weights in Olivia Newton John’s “Let’s Get Physical” video, and it makes my hair feel soft and shiny. It really does!

I also love Loma’s Nourishing Oil Treatment, and I apply it religiously after every pool swim.

To keep dry skin at bay, as much as possible for someone whose gills close if they’re out of the water too long, I love Palmer’s Cocoa Butter Formula. The chocolatey scent lasts all day and it’s a pleasure to slather.

And again, I’d appreciate any Canadian-made suggestions for hair and body.

Best Underwater MP3 Player

After years of allegiance to the Finis Duo, I switched to the Shokz Open Swim and have been in love with this light and durable little headset ever since. It fits behind the ears and wraps around my head, under my swim cap. I load it up with songs each season in an ever-evolving playlist that powers my pool workouts and the occasional open-water swim (always when accompanied by a paddler – safety first!). I build a playlist in Spotify, and then use a YouTube to MP3 converter to save the file to my laptop. Once I have the file, I just transfer it over to the Shokz when they’re connected to the laptop via USB. It does take some time, but it’s one of those little swim rituals that help to keep my head in the game. I like it better than a pesky beeping timer for setting my pace, and I like that the battery lasts the 9 hours it promises. I never use the Bluetooth function, because what would be the point underwater? I used to hate that it wouldn’t shuffle, but I’ve turned that frown upside down by using the playlist as a memorization tool that comes in very handy during long swims where there is no music except in my head.

Best Nutrition

I finally sorted out my feeds last year after ten years of entertaining vomits. I tried everything from maple syrup to Eye of Newt, and the only stuff that’s worked for me is UCan‘s Energy in Cocoa Delite. Please UCan, if you’re listening – never stop making this flavour.

And bananas. Long live the banana.

Best Learning Experience

My weekend swimming with Dover Channel Training last July wins top prize for teaching me so much about what it would take to swim the Channel. I showed up not knowing quite what to expect and expecting to shame myself by barfing in front of the polite and cultured English people. Thanks to the wonderful Emma France, I discovered UCan and then had two awesome days and twelve hours of swimming circles in Dover Harbour with other English Channel hopefuls and luminaries. Even though the weather thwarted my plan to swim in September, I was totally prepared and a key part of that prep was the weekend I spent with DCT.

Aerin Bowers and Emma France at Dover Channel Training

Best Surprise of 2025 (so far)

Saving the best for last, as is my practice. I’ve got an English Channel slot for 2025! My new window is July 1-10, so I’ll be hopping back on the Dovercoaster once again for what promises to be another thrilling ride. More on that and how it happened COMING SOON in an upcoming post. Whee!

The Meaning of Life: Growth and Learning

Posted on November 23, 2024 by Aerin Bowers

I couldn’t decide what to title this post, since I didn’t know what I was going to write about until I sat down and started typing.

November Rain (we’ve had a lot of that!)?

November Spawned a Monster (nah – no spawning occurred, nor monsters, and fuck Morrissey)…

Gone ‘Til November (sort of…..but not quite right)?

And then I started writing, and I realized that I’m doing a lot of thinking about learning lately, and how hard it is. A title will magically appear by the end of this post, because I’ll learn something along the way. That’s usually how it goes.

So – learning. My English Channel Swim That Wasn’t was definitely one of the bigger learning experiences of my life. All that training, the effort to learn to swim for that long, the logistics of getting to Dover, learning to wait, learning about the wind – the factor that would ultimately be my nemesis, learning to project a positive mindset in the face of disappointment, and learning how to come home having not swam and deal with the personal fallout – these have all been major things in my life during the last two months. I found myself canceling plans so that I wouldn’t have to talk about it, or keeping conversations short when the topic came up. I avoided writing about it, and I avoided the pool for a few weeks so as not to be recognized as “the swimmer who didn’t get to swim.” I felt guilty about fundraising and not being able to follow through. I felt guilty about the attention I received, which felt like it was all for naught. My Inner Imposter syndromed its nasty way into my dreams and thoughts on long, pensive walks. I knew I was going to have to learn to deal with this and process it much in the same way I’ve processed other big tough disappointing things, or I’d never lift my head above the surface.

Late season swims in Christina Lake, October.

This is where I am right now – processing – but also gradually “chalking it up to experience”, as the saying goes. I took some advice and started booking swims for next year, because one thing I have learned about myself is that I do need those future milestones to reach for in order to not become a drifting, shiftless mess. I’m leaning into feeling the feelings of now, but focusing on the months ahead where several fucking awesome trips and swims and challenges are going to happen.

While the English Channel remains firmly in my sights, I did not accept a less-than-stellar slot for 2025. Instead, I took a confirmed #2 spot for the first week of September 2026. If a fortuitous cancellation happens in summer 2025 with my pilot Andy King of the Louise Jane II (as sometimes happens), I will jump on it and pop back over to Dover. It will be like I never left! My tears are still drying on the beach….

Otherwise, I will continue my goal of achieving the Triple Crown of Open Water Swimming by swimming the Catalina Channel first. Future milestone #1 burst into and all over reality when I was in Dover, distraught that the Channel wasn’t gonna happen. I thought that I might be able to get a late season spot for Catalina, but had a helpful and informative call with Dave from the Catalina Channel Swimming Federation who informed me about the length of the registration process (too long to make it happen in 2024) and new forms and fees for 2025. I secured a pilot, paddlers (thanks SUMMER!!), and nabbed a confirmed date of June 29, 2025. This storied swim involves swimming approximately 34 km at night from Catalina Island to Long Beach, California, and I had originally planned to take it on in 2026. But since I’m learning to roll with the punches and seize the goddamn day, it has become my main training focus for the year ahead. I’m looking forward to bioluminescence, big grey shapes beneath me, and being able to invite a few more peeps to support and celebrate. It will be the Canada Day Long Weekend, after all. 🙂

Future milestone #2 came in the form of a WhatsApp message from my good friend and absolute swimming legend, Martyn Webster, who suggested that I grab a spot on a Swim Trek trip to Croatia in early April. I’ve wanted to do a Swim Trek trip forever and maybe even guide for them someday, so it seems to be the perfect opportunity to get some early season coooooold ass training under my belt. The trip is classified “ultra” and features 6 days of coached swims, video analysis, and seminars. Learning! It also includes the chance to do a 6-hour cold water qualifier, which will come in super handy should an elusive English Channel slot materialize in the meantime. I’ve never been to Croatia and can think of nothing better than exploring the Prvić Luka and the Dalmatian Coast from the freezing water with good pals.

With these lofty future milestones in mind, I’ve shifted from some half-hearted fall maintenance swimming into my brand new full-on plan. I enlisted the help of English ultra-swimmer Amy Ennion again, since her English Channel plan helped me get focused, faster, and motivated to take on the big swims. This year’s plan challenges me to learn how to swim faster and better, instead of just longer. There are a lot of plans and planners out there, but I believe that Amy is simply THE BEST. She took the time to get to know me, was available for necessary check-ins and rejigs, and her cheerful and motivating demeanor was just what I needed to structure my training.

The perfect title for this post occurred to me when writing this last paragraph about the most important learning this experience has given me – the learnings I learned from my coach and mentor Brent Hobbs. Brent has generously worked with me for almost four years now, and he is a constant source of knowledge, experience, and laughter. When I think back on the trip to England and the swim that wasn’t, I think about Brent and his constant good humour in the face of uncertainty. I think of how he crammed scones with cream and jam into his face with wild abandon. How he’d strike up a jolly conversation with anyone in a pub (and we went to a LOT of pubs). How he dragged my flagging ass down to the Dover Harbour for another swim, day after day, doing his signature flip turns off the slimy breaker walls and butterflying into the waves. How he ate more fish and chips than any person ever should, yet ran the Folkestone Half Marathon the day after we departed. How Scott and I laughed until we peed at the videos he sent from Liverpool, where he painted the town red dancing in Beatles bars and enchanted the locals. How he made us say, “It’s a bit shit, innit” when it was really more than a bit shit. How he understood how I was feeling, but somehow helped me learn how to keep it all in perspective. And how – in every situation – there is a Monty Python song that is just perfect for the occasion.

And there you have it – the post and the title: The Meaning of Life: Growth and Learning.

Thanks Brent.

The Post I Didn’t Want to Write

Posted on October 2, 2024 by Aerin Bowers

This is it. This is the post I didn’t want to write.

I wanted to write an exciting and rollicking post-English Channel swim recap, but instead I’ll take a deep breath and just say it – the swim didn’t happen. The weather got the better of us and despite waiting a week for a window of calm, the window remained firmly closed. The wind blew and it rained, and the waves in the Channel reached 2 ft +.

I’m disappointed, of course, but it’s necessary to put all things in perspective since there are no guarantees in this sport. I’ve had so many lovely messages of support (you GUYS! 🥹🥰) and so many questions.

So, here’s the Coles Notes/Bowers Brief version, or the FAQ:

Pilots book up to 5 swimmers on a tide. I was booked in the number 2 slot with mine. The swimmers in the number 1 spot, a relay from Iceland, did get to swim on Saturday. They made it!
Saturday was the only day within the previous 2 weeks that boats were out and anyone got to swim, due to a persistent, rotten weather front. I think there were a lot of swimmers hanging around waiting. Misery loves company!
When you book a swim (often several years in advance), you pay a non-refundable deposit and sign a contract that acknowledges that you may not get to swim and that everything depends on the weather and conditions. The pilots will not compromise anyone’s safety, so you might just have to suck it up and accept that these experienced and capable people know what they’re doing. The pilots make the call. September has been pretty good in the last few years, especially the water temperature, so I hadn’t been too worried that the weather would be a problem.
If you don’t get to swim, you may be offered another spot on a future tide, for which you must pay another non-refundable deposit. The current spots offered to me are all number 5s for next June/July, so I will need to weigh my options before confirming a new date.
Yes, swimming is an expensive sport. Yes, it’s worth it.
Yes, there is a risk in telling people what you’re hoping to do, because it might not happen. 98% of the people in my life are gracious and kind and supportive, which makes it even harder to come back and say that my swim was cancelled. But these people also strengthen my resolve. The other 2%? Fuck ‘em.
I have been trying to immediately schedule another epic swim to make use of my substantial training and readiness, but it’s really late in the year and I haven’t found anything yet that works with my schedule. I will probably hold off on any major decisions/applications until January.
Training continues! I love training and the structure it provides. I can be in the lake for another 3 weeks, I reckon!
I will continue to fundraise for Jumpstart until I reach my goal. You can read all about my efforts here. I so appreciate your generosity!

Stepping on to the plane in London this morning was rough, I can’t deny it. But I’m also buzzing with very happy memories of the millions of fun things we did while we waited, and I’m really grateful to Scott and Brent for coming on this adventure with me. We had so much fun on the Dovercoaster, and that’s what it’s all about.

The English say “Chin up!” and “Carry on”, so that’s what I have to do while I wait for my next window. Thanks for following along!

The Dovercoaster

Posted on September 25, 2024 by Aerin Bowers

Here we are in Dover! Ready to swim, ready to go, all supplies organized, team is primed, shoulders are limber…..and so I wait.

And I wait.

And the forecast is unrelenting, so I wait some more.

We look at other forecasts, hoping to find a glimmer of sunshine, a tamped down wind. We hear from the pilot, who is reassuring but promises nothing. We make jokes, that “it’s a bit shit, innit.” We eat fish & chips, enjoy a pint, play Scrabble, and explore, because there is really so much to see here – so much that reinforces why the English Channel is such a special, magical, mythical swim. Just think of what’s happened over it and under it and in it. I’m not a religious person, but the Channel has a spirit, and when you’re here you are IN IT (innit).

I read messages of support over and over again, wishing I had better, more concrete news to share. I receive a lot of concerned, but well-meaning weather reports. It’s hard to believe that people are so interested in the swim, and sometimes the tears come as I’m overwhelmed with the kindness and grace of my friends, family, and complete strangers who reach out with affirmations. My eyes brim each night as I close them for another sleep, heart bursting with anticipation. Not worrying about the situation at work, the dog, the unrelenting forecast. Just breathe and rest, silent mode, no alarms.

I’m on this roller coaster of emotional torture known to Channel swimming aspirants as “the Dovercoaster.” It is indeed like being in the front seat of a twisting, turning, careening ride, but one with no end in sight. It creates a level of nausea mixed with a low grade of anger, frustration, and despair. The top layer, the visible one, is reinforced with resoluteness and optimism. I will swim.

The weather will turn.

The wind will chill out, just long enough for me and all the others on this ride to get. it. done.

In the meantime, making the most of it becomes a mantra, in the same way I’ve internalized Holger’s “you will do it” said to me a thousand times, because I miss him but I also need to believe it.

In the meantime, fun and exploration abounds. We scour Dover for fish and chips, English breakfasts and good beer. I swim an hour every day in the 2 km harbour loop, close my eyes and pretend I’m IN IT – this is what it might feel like to be actually doing it. We play in the Castle and soak up the tales, and stroll the White Cliffs, bellies full of scone and cream and jam, layered just right. I read Andy’s WhatsApp messages, but not before taking a deep breath because he hasn’t said it’s not happening yet, just to be patient and sit tight.

One of these times the message will say “Get ready!” and we will spring into action. Will it be Saturday? What will that feel like?

The bus ride back from Canterbury is rainy and dark, and I imagine that out there it’s so much worse, and I’m glad to not be there right now in a gale force nightmare.

Trust. Wait. Believe.