Ok lads, swim up river to that tree, and then maybe to that boat. The tree’s about 20m away and the boat maybe 50m. Jaysus, I’m not sure if I can we we chimmed. Once we’d recovered from the chill we managed swimming to the tree (though the current almost stole my boxers), then drifted back down stream to the jetty hopped out and dried our lobster coloured skin.
With us safely on dry land, Dan our host headed off for a mile-long crawl. He was back in twenty minutes. His normal training sessions are two to three hours.
While we were enjoying the bird song on a river bank in rural England we ruminated on long distance swimming. After 29,000km in the saddle, its become difficult to understand the stock incredulous reaction to our trip. Cycling long distances seems normal now. Yet, the thought of swimming a mile seems undo-able to to me. When I think about it rationally I know that its just a case of putting one arm in front of the other for long enough, much like cycling. But when I try to imagine myself swimming out to dalkey island or something similar I get butterflies.