Adele Benson: How I swam the English Channel
Last month, Prospect member Adele Benson swam across the English Channel, completing the 21 miles of the world’s busiest shipping lane in an epic 15-hour swim. Here, she shares the story behind her extraordinary achievement.
Until recently, Adele Benson was the chair of Prospect’s Woodland Trust branch, where she works as organisation’s Campaigns Manager for Mobilisation.
The branch is very active, and is on the rise. It recently won the Small Branch Award at the Prospect Organising Awards for its determined efforts to gain recognition from the employer.
“We’re having conversations, which are generally positive and constructive, but there is a bit of reluctance to engage with us on the substance on what we really want, which is a recognition agreement,” says Adele.
“What we’re doing at the moment is trying to turn those good conversations into credible actions.”
With the assurance that there were colleagues with the passion and enthusiasm to carry on the recognition battle, Adele stepped down as branch chair, in large part, to dedicate herself to a remarkable personal quest: swimming the English Channel.
It is a daunting challenge.
Around 300 people attempt the crossing every year and only 20% succeed. More people have climbed Mount Everest, than have successfully swam across the treacherous and variable waters of the English Channel, which also happens to be the busiest shipping lane in the world.
Here, in Adele’s own words, is how she did it.
Why I swim
I’ve always enjoyed swimming. It was something that, during some difficult parts of my teenage years, I could go and do. It was a space away from it all and where I could process things.
In 2018, I did my first Open Water Swimming event just to try it out. It was like a 2.1km upstream swim called the Henley Classic, and I enjoyed it.
But after that, I didn’t swim much. I was at University and really into my mountaineering and my climbing at the time.
Then, coming out of lockdown, I, like everyone else, had felt really caged up and I wanted to do something. I missed the water and wanted to go swimming.
I found myself enjoying long distance swimming, I wanted to push myself and have a bit of a lifestyle shift. I started swimming more, and in that first year after the pandemic, I swam the length of Coniston and completed the Thames Marathon.
Then, just gradually, I was doing more and more. In 2022 I swam the length of Ullswater which is just over seven miles, and I did Lake Windermere the year after that.
When you get to swimming Windermere, which is only half the distance of the English Channel, you start to think ‘I’m doing pretty well, and I really enjoy it. The Channel is not that far off it, is it?’
It felt like a natural progression. You never know what’s going to happen in the future, so I might as well take a leap and see what happens.
Just the planning that goes into swimming the Channel can be quite complicated. You have to book it two years in advance; there are different associations; and you have to speak to different boats to find out which one has availability.
The false start
Originally, I thought I’d be going out on the Sunday morning.
I finished work on the Friday. On Saturday, my partner and I went to Dover and met up with Reg and Ray who have Viking Princess 2, the boat I was on, or rather swimming alongside. They were very nonchalant, showing us the boat and suddenly said, ‘See you tonight.’ The shock sent a pang of unease straight to my stomach.
It felt incredibly real in that moment. They were like, ‘Just call us at 7:30pm and we’ll double check the weather.’
I called at 7:30pm and got the all clear: we’re ready to go. I had my amazing crew: my partner Josh, my friend Ben, who had swam the channel a few years ago, and my friend Lou, who is also an open water swimmer. They’ll be on the boat, and know what I am going through, which was reassuring.
My parents were there with their dogs and were very excited, obviously, but also nervous.
Then we woke up just past midnight, and I got a call and they said, ‘It can’t be now, the swell’s too high.’
It felt like a balloon deflating in that moment. It was strange having to tell everyone and having to find emergency accommodation for people because they thought they’d be on a boat, rather than needing a place to sleep.
The 15-hour swim
We spent a few days in Dover and we went to see where I’d be starting at Samphire Hoe and to look at the boats. I thought to myself, those shipping containers seem pretty big?
Then we got the go ahead for early Tuesday morning.
We headed to the boat and it’s surreal because you’ve got to put on sun cream at 3am, when it’s pitch black. Plus, a mix of Vaseline and Sudocrem to stop chafing around my neck and under my arms.
At this point, the boat is also moving to the start point. We’ve waved goodbye to my parents. Then, from the main boat, I got on this little rig, which takes me as far as it could to the cobbled beach. I stand uneasily on the cobbles, then they sound the starting klaxon: time to start.
The water is pitch-black, luckily you’ve got loads of lights on this boat, so you know you’re not going to get lost, and my crew on that boat, looking after you.
I was almost shell-shocked at it all, but I got on with it. I started the swim.
The water was 13 degrees but the air temperature was eight, so it felt warmer. I settled down quite easily and, luckily, because it was a 3am start, sunrise wasn’t long after, which was motivating.
By that point, I’d already been stung by jellyfish. There were moon jellyfish, which you can see in the water, but they don’t sting you. Then there were the compass jellyfish, which can sting like nettles! One of them went around my arm but you just have to carry on.
I don’t remember seeing many boats, but I’ve since seen some videos and there were quite a few shipping containers that weren’t far off from where I was. I could feel the choppiness of the waves after they’d gone by. I didn’t mind. When it’s quite choppy it’s probably worse being on the boat, if you’re susceptible to seasickness.
Swimming through
At one point I had my friend Lou come in for about an hour because you can have someone join you, as long they’re swimming behind you and for up to an hour. That really helped me.
It must have been about 10 hours in that I could see France. I could see the trees, I could see the fields next to the coast and I could see a beach. It shouldn’t be long now, I thought. France is just there.
However, because of how the tides move you, you’re swimming as if you’re moving to France but in reality the target that you’re going for is further up the coast. It was infuriating. It felt like you’re swimming towards a destination that you’re never going to reach.
My team were encouraging me, ‘Keep going, keep going’ and I couldn’t swim normally at that point because my arm was hurting quite a bit, I had a rash and it felt like burns under my arm. I was in pain, and medication didn’t help.
I think that was probably the closest I came to stopping… This was meant to be fun?
But, I knew, by then I had swam for so many hours, and I wasn’t going to give up.
To the end
My finish point in France was at Cap Gris Nez. I couldn’t get fully out of the water because it’s all half-submerged rocks and wasn’t safe.
I thought, ‘I’ve touched a rock, does that mean I’m at the end?’
Then the klaxon went off and everyone was cheering. There were people up on the French coast that happened to see me, and they were also cheering, which was lovely.
I got as close as I could, over a few rocks, so I could at least try standing on something. The little boat came out to pick up me, then we get back on the bigger boat, and you head back to England. That’s it.
Your team tries to get you warm, dressed and dry. I felt the strongest hunger pang I think I’ve ever had.
I felt relief and disbelief. I work a full-time job and I’m just a normal person. I’ve done it, this incredible, surreal thing. I actually did it.
Adele’s channel swim raised money for Maggie’s Centres. Find out more and how you can make a donation here: https://www.justgiving.com/page/adele-benson