I have certainly been oot and aboot, as we Canadians say. I’ve been in places I didn’t expect to be, but somehow seem to be the right places at the right time, most of the time.
Facing a crappy snow year on the mountain, dealing with ongoing fuckery, and generally in need of a change of scenery at the beginning of the year, I rented an apartment in Vancouver. Kitsilano, to be exact, and it has been a great call and one of the coolest experiences. Kits ticks all the boxes: an 11 minute walk to one of Vancouverās nicest beaches, Pacific ocean sunsets, bike paths, cherry blossoms, and friendly people. I have loved my Kootenay and Kelowna homes, but I think Iām in my ocean swimming phase this year. Salt water heals and makes my hair look great. š š¼
Vancouver is home to VOWSA, an active open water swimming community that I hope to get involved with this summer. I also joined the English Bay Swim Club who practice at the Vancouver Aquatic Centre, and have enjoyed a mix of short course and long course Masters practices. Exploring other pools in the city has been fun, and I can hardly wait to swim outdoors at Kits Pool and the pool at Second Beach this month. Iāve been biking and exploring and thriving in my little 700 sq ft space with a blooming magnolia right outside my bedroom window.
Work travel combined with a long overdue girlsā trip took me to Quebec City in March, where I snuck in a swim at Laval Universityās lovely facility.
I presented the story of my English Channel swim to a fabulous hometown crowd at the Rossland Museum in April. I have worked on different narratives that might suit specific audiences, and my Rossland attendees responded really well to an overview of both my swimming history, approach to training, and the swim itself. I pretended that everyone in the crowd was naked, which made me feel relaxed and happy, since Rosslanders are very good looking people. You can watch the talk here.
I am presenting my swim story for the Across the Lake Swimās Lake Club as an exclusive member webinar on May 12. The Lake Club is ATLSās new membership offering, and Iām looking forward to dishing the details for this community. I am also serving as a Swim Squad Ambassador for Across the Lake Swim for the third time. ATLS are running several new events this year, including a starlight swim and two new events on Vancouver Island. If you are interested in any of these events as a first time participant or seasoned swimmer, please let me know and I can offer information, mentorship, and a discount code.
āWhatās next, Aerin?ā still weighs a little heavy on me at this point, almost one year post Channel swim. The truth is that I really did need to take my foot off the gas this year, after nearly three years straight of pretty intensive and structured training. I wanted to focus a little more on my work. I didnāt have the motivation for the weekly kilometres. My bank account needed a bit of a bum rub of love. And honestly, the personal situation that derailed the celebration and processing of my swim kept not calming down and carrying on and throwing weinerschnitzel at my head.
Iām starting to feel ready to start planting swimming seeds again, as April showers turn to May flowers. Two friends who will swim the Channel this summer are coming this very weekend for some ocean training. You can follow them here – I know they will both smash it!
Iām taking off for a cycling trip to Hokkaido, Japan with my nephew in June. Since a bicycle needs a fish, Iāll be swimming along the way as well.
August means a trip to Ireland for work, combined with other amazing swimming opportunities. Thinking maybe Galway Bay? Fastnet? Suggestions welcome!
And there are the Across the Lake swims, some VOWSA events, and just generally trying to enjoy my life and maintain my peace, and get back to a place where more training and structure makes sense. Getting there!
All in good time. And all a good time. A fresh start means everything and I really needed one. For someone who has planned and structured meticulously for the last few years, itās nice to just stop and smell the flowers. There are a lot of flowers around this time of year. I hope youāre enjoying them too.
I originally wrote this post on World Mental Health Day in October. So let’s talk about mine, and yours, and ours.
Iāve 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. Itās a timeline of the events Iāve participated in. A journal about training. A travelogue, of sorts. Itās also a record of the accomplishments that Iām very proud of. And itās 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 lightās 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 ā I ā I ā I I am too.“
So yes, I am going through another very personal challenge. If this gives you the heeby-jeebies, then Iād 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 youāre still here with me, Iād like to tell you what really happened after my English Channel swim.
My partner and I started our relationship in late 2018. As with many relationships when youāre over 40, we came to it with some baggage and battle scars. Despite 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 otherās 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 solid 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. 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 returned to Canada in a daze.
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 facility where I love to train, and sat on an exercise bike in the gym overlooking the pool, watching people swim laps, glorious laps. I didn’t get in. I stayed up late. I drank a lot of wine. My brain played endless loops of disgusting scenarios 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 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 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 forgot things. I had trouble speaking out loud sometimes, which is difficult for someone whose ability to make a living depends on talking and communicating effectively. I declined opportunities to share and present 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 people 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 counselling 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 rest. I walked, and the dog probably lost 10 pounds. I started using different thought models and tried to make a practice of journaling. 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 took 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 āme too.ā My relationship situation is not unique. My partner is not the first person to have an affair, and the world dos not revolve around me, as he so helpfully informed me. My post-swim depression was not unique.
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 understand things that weren’t previously transparent to me, and watched my former partner experience leverage and emotional blackmail. Poor thing.
I’ve shifted into focusing on my physical and mental health, my productivity, and the things I want to achieve in swimming and in life. 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. (Iāll 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 ādesignatedā 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.
Iām calling it: September is the New Year. January may have worn that sash in the past, but sheās never felt like a chance for a reset the way that September does. Sheās cold, and the ski season is already in swing. Sheās bloated and guilty and a bit hungover from the holidays. Sheās confined to the pool, save for perhaps a cursory polar bear dip. She starts and ends in the dark.
September is where the fresh starts happen. A new school year, for awesome people like my kid who kicked off their freaking Masterās degree this month. Q4, for most of us that sell stuff, and Q1 (REALLY) for those in my industry. Itās the time for the closet switcheroo, and the waning days of air conditioning. Itās a swim in the lake on Monday, and then a crushing pool set on Wednesday, still rocking a tan.
September is my birth month, so I get to start a whole new year being a whole new age. This year the idea of a fresh start resonates for a million reasons, whether thatās in redefining relationships, embarking on a new chapter in my training, or putting some things firmly in the past and others squarely in the future.
I havenāt been in the water much since my English Channel swim. I experienced the expected Channel Blues compounded by a personal situation that both drained my energy and charged me with anxiety. The gym helped, the pool didnāt. I could float in the lake, but I didnāt want to put my face in. Walks and podcasts and friends and work powered my days, and I escaped to the Island to hang out beside the ocean and started to get some clarity. Campground conversations started to pull me out of the mire and suddenly, it was the last day of August. Thank fucking god.
September starts with my renewed training goals in mind. Getting stronger and faster in the off-season made all the difference in my successful Channel crossing, so now is the time when I recalibrate the plan, both for swimming and for the other shit that sometimes slithers into my periphery. Stronger, faster, and with joy. September is when the real work begins.
Itās time to plan applications for exciting 2026 events, and to line up the timelines and support Iām going to need for the swims Iāve already committed to. It really does feel like a new year, especially this year. There will be cake, chilly night swims, orange moons, long drives, and a whole new cycle of living and learning.
āSeptember’s coming soon, pining for the moon / But what if there were two, side by side in orbit, around the fairest sun.ā
I celebrated my one month Channel-iversary this week. It might have been with a few margaritas, since something happened to my tastebuds during my sixteen hour salt bath. Coffee tastes gross, beer tastes funny, dairy products taste like chalk, but the swim still tastes like a success.
Post-swim London hijinks with Brent.
That being said, I have not been swimming very much. I feel like Iām still processing the swim, and getting little bits of my brain back. I can accurately describe hours one through four and twelve through sixteen, but thereās a big murky middle where sensory deprivation and focus took over and I couldnāt tell you whether I was happy, tired, scared, or hungry. Beginnings and endings are much more interesting to me anyhow.
Back in the Scrabble saddle.
Iāve had ample opportunity to talk with both media and friends about my English Channel swim and was frankly surprised by the level of interest. People seem to be very curious about so many aspects of the swim, giving me a steady supply of topics to write about in the future. That one constant question though: whatās next?
What is next? I made the mistake of committing myself to several summer swims that should have seen me back in the lake racing almost every weekend. Iāve pushed back against the inevitable pressure these events would put on me – self-imposed, but still pressure – and cancelled! As someone who hardly ever cancels anything, I struggled with it and still wonder if I should just pull up my pantaloons and get back out there. To be honest, I have enjoyed not ātrainingā over the last month, and have relished the long dog walks, Rossland hikes, bike rides, hangs with friends, and gym sessions. I havenāt dragged my bum out of bed any earlier than 7:30 am, and I havenāt consumed a single ounce of UCAN.
ATLS Ambassadoring
This month, whatās next has meant my next meal or next episode of The Bear (for the second time through).
I do have a lake swim in mind for later in the season, but thatās a big maybe right now. I donāt know if the logistics can work for both boats and crew, and itās one Iād definitely want to do right, or not at all. So maybe thatās next, but maybe not. Upcoming holidays will certainly involve swims in Zurich and Thun, but itās all for the pleasure of leisure at the moment.
ā„ļø
One of the best things about swimming is that there is an almost endless list of potential ānextsā. Iām waiting for the lightning bolt of inspiration to strike. There are local lakes to bag. Big ocean swims that I never considered have now become possibilities. My English Channel swim has opened a lot of doors, especially in my own head, but rushing instead of processing and savouring feels wrong. These first short swims from Sarsons Beach are my way of easing back into the structure that I love and need, but itās really all about the ease, which I havenāt enjoyed in a few years. So go easy on me, and whatās next will reveal itself soon. Or maybe in a few months. ā„ļø
With the expert navigation of the pilots of Optimist, unrivalled coaching and encouragement from Brent Hobbs, and Debbie Collingwoodās 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 hasnāt seemed to āuploadā 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 āHoly shit, I guess Iām going to do this!?!ā 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 couldnāt 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.
š·: Stan Stores
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 hadnāt been for Debbieās 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 donāt 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 sheāsā¦.a wizard.
šø: Debbie Collingwood
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 doesnāt 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.
šø: Debbie Collingwood
The last four hours in French waters were hard and forced me to dig deep to places Iād 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. Iām 50 and more physiologically suited to pinching perogies. I have small hands and feet, and Iām 161 cm tall. The āChannel weightā Iāve maintained during my training helps to keep me warm and buoyant (and cuddly), but it doesnāt make me faster.
France in sight
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 āCome on! Youāve gotta be tough!!ā 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.
š„: 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 wasnāt 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 Canadaās best butterfliers ever. Emma France from Dover Channel Training, who introduced me to UCan.
The White Horse Pub, Dover
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 sheās gonna smash it out of the park. Sheās such a star.
I also just achieved my fundraising goal. I raised $10,000 for Canadian Tire Jumpstart Childrenās 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 Iām 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. ā„ļø
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 – Iām not really the score-settling type. But Iām 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 yearās 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, Iād 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.
In Thetis Lake I swam a….
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.
April, you came and went so fast, I hardly knew ye. I slogged away at my speed and build mesocycles, and tried to approach the long swims a with resolutely stoic attitude. Two hours of back and forth in a 25 metre pool is not actually much fun. Three is even less jolly, once youāve counted all the flip turns. Still, youāve gotta get it done!
Golden Hour in Okanagan Lake
I survive by breaking the swim into 30 minute blocks and think about a different technique point during each block. Keep one eye in the water when breathing. Elbows up. Fingers in one line. I also have a delicious slug of UCan every 30, since Iām training my gut to love it. It doesnāt make me feel nauseous but I do not look forward to the flavour. Iām saving my precious Cocoa Delight for the BIG ONE, so itās either Lemon (ok) or Cran Raspberry (ugh). They are not making Cocoa Delight anymore, which is incredibly disappointing to all of us picky eaters out there. If youāre reading this and have an extra tub laying around, Iād pay a pretty premium to take it off your hands. I donāt even care if youāve licked it – which is outrageous, if you know me. I never share my ice cream.
April was a whole lot of work travel too, as the first month of the busiest quarter in my biz. This means planes, trains, waking up with my hand between two pillowsā¦and figuring out the available lane swim times wherever I go. I swam at Toronto’s Pam McConnell Aquatic Centre on an extremely busy night, with at least ten people in each lane – a practice in patience and reminding myself that WE ARE ALL HERE TO SWIM, which ultimately makes the world a better place. The reasonable and rational voice in my head says, ā…slow down and work on drills – and smile.ā A few days later I had an almost exact opposite experience at the storied Etobicoke Olympium (a perfect reason to stay near the airport in Toronto if there ever was one!) where I was blessed with three free pre-flight hours and my choice of several 50 metre lanes. I faced the wrath of jam-packed pools at Edmonton’s Kinsmen Sports Centre, but ultimately got it done in honour of Little Aerin who competed here as a kid, with stars in her eyes.
The Dolphin Club of San Francisco
A last-minute decision to accompany my love to a conference in San Francisco (lest he be messed around entering the US) turned into a week of amazing pre-season open water experiences. I swam four times at Aquatic Park – three solos and once accompanied by an awesome colleague who introduced me to the South End Rowing Club (cheers Brendan!), starting my cold water inauguration at 13-14 degrees. Swimming at Aquatic Park brought floods of memories of my 2014 San Fran adventure with my parents, where as a newbie to the sport, I swam the Escape from Alcatraz. Walking the same pavement and standing exactly on the same sand as where I hugged my Dad after the finish brought up a lot of emotions for me. I thought about my Dad throughout the whole trip, and I reckon heād be pretty happy about where my swimming odyssey has taken me.
With my Dad at Aquatic Park in 2014
You can also get a day pass both the Dolphin Club and the South End Rowing Club on alternating week days, which is so great for visitors to the area. I loved exploring the historic buildings with their beautiful wooden boats and incredible collection of swimming memorabilia. Oh, and the sauna! Is there anything better than a nice, slow warming after a cold and salty ocean swim?
The icing on the San Francisco cake happened when I reached out to Pacific Open Water Swim Co to see if they had any last-minute slots for longer weekend swims in the San Francisco Bay. They offer so many epic swims, training support & coaching, and local experiences – like noone else in the area. I don’t usually leave things to the last minute and I didnāt expect it to work out. Then I got a message from Sylvia and a plan came together! We met at the marina on the west side of the Golden Gate Bridge and we headed for Belvedere Cove, near Tiburon. We hit it off immediately, chatting about all things open water, the English Channel, feeds, and safety (threw a Shaka for safety practice) and I knew I was in great hands for a three-hour swim in the windy and choppy conditions. I was nervous about the rough water and currents and definitely considered what creatures may lurk below and what I might do if one should chomp off my leg. But Channel swimmers have gotta be tough and prepared, so I Vaselined my neck, pulled my beautiful new Rise swimsuit out of my bum and jumped in.
New BFF just dropped.
As mentioned, Iād been a little freaked out about what wildlife I might encounter in this body of water. I was accompanied by a seal during an Aquatic Park swim earlier in the week, and Iād spent maybe a bit too much time googling local shark species the night before. So when a pelican landed about a metre in front of me, I said āHey Buddy!ā and thought nothing of it. But when the pelican came back a second, and then a third time, I knew it wasnāt there to cheer me on. I tried to kick it away, but this just seemed to aggravate it and it started to flap its big elbowy wings and peck at my leg. Sylvia blasted the air horn, but this Buddy wasnāt fazed and made it quite clear that I wasn’t welcome. I booted it for the boat and climbed in, and we motored to a different spot. Getting attacked by a pelican was definitely not on my bingo card.
The rest of the swim went swimmingly, I felt strong and handled the waves better than I expected to. I wanted to do the swim to improve my confidence, and I accomplished just that, thanks to the expert guidance of my new swimming friend Sylvia. If youāre looking for a Bay Area swimming adventure, sheās your gal!
Look Ma, no pelicans!Looks rough, was rough. You’ve gotta be tough.
I can now swim over an hour in my local lake at 12-13 degrees, much earlier than last year which sets me up nicely going into the Channel Qualifier. This is a requirement for all aspiring swimmers and involves a documented six hour continuous swim at 16 degrees or less. Iāve had no problems with this swim in the past and Iām looking forward to smashing it in the Okanagan Lake in two weeks with good pals and lots of laughs.
Pep talk from Harriet before a chilly dip
In the meantime, Iāll be in Saskatoon for work and to celebrate my Mumās 75th birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUM!!), and then onward to Gimli, Manitoba. Maybe Iāll take a dip in Lake Winnipeg!
With just 8 weeks until my window opens, Iād just like to remind peeps that I am fundraising for Canadian Tire Jumpstart Childrenās Charities – and Iām more than halfway to my goal of $10,000! Jumpstartās mission is to remove financial barriers for any Canadian child who wants to participate in sports or activities. Jumpstart supports kids in communities all over Canada, and they have been absolutely awesome in their support of me and my goal. If their mission resonates with you the way it does with me, you can donate here, or help by spreading the word. Thanks!
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 Juneās 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. Danās guidance before and during the swim makes this one you donāt want to miss. Swimming into the San Diego sunrise…..I’d totally do it again.
Best Race
Itās 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, Iām 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 didnāt think Iād 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 donāt fog, as long as I give them a regular wash with dish soap. I still get the post-swim goggle-eyes, but Iāve 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 āBrandonā and the āDevonā which come in size 38 and offer that partial coverage that is becoming of a woman of my vintage. I recently upgraded to the āCarolineā, 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. Theyāre 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!
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 thatās worked for me is UCanās Energy in Cocoa Delite. Please UCan, if youāre 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.
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!
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….
Boooooo.
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. š
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 PrviÄ 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.
Here we are in Dover! Ready to swim, ready to go, all supplies organized, team is primed, shoulders are limberā¦..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 āitās a bit shit, innit.ā 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 whatās happened over it and under it and in it. Iām not a religious person, but the Channel has a spirit, and when youāre 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. Itās hard to believe that people are so interested in the swim, and sometimes the tears come as Iām 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.
Iām on this roller coaster of emotional torture known to Channel swimming aspirants as āthe Dovercoaster.ā 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 Iāve internalized Holgerās āyou will do itā 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 Iām 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 Andyās WhatsApp messages, but not before taking a deep breath because he hasnāt said itās not happening yet, just to be patient and sit tight.
One of these times the message will say āGet ready!ā 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 itās so much worse, and Iām glad to not be there right now in a gale force nightmare.
