Up, Under & Across Report
In 2015 my Mother passed away after several years of living with MS (the UK's most prevalent neurological condition). We miss her every day; and I have wanted to do something, in her memory, to help others. Enjoying a challenge, I tried to think of something motivating and novel - and came up with Up, Under & Across; an attempt at 3 diverse challenges between August and October 2017, raising funds for the MS Society and Practical Action involving:
UP – Soar 1,000m in a glider
UNDER – Swim 1,000m underwater
ACROSS – Sail a Tall Ship in a race across the Baltic
To support this challenge please click here for the Up, Under & Across Sponsorship page.
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Why Sailing, freediving and gliding?
For this challenge I wanted to push myself in three very different activities.
It was either 2012 or 2013, after several summers of trying, that I first managed to swim the full length (50.29m) of Peterborough Lido underwater. I am still really chuffed, but it has felt rather pointless on its own (sponge diving, anyone?). Having proved that swimming 50m underwater is possible the question of how far I could push myself followed, and eventually I decided on an attempt to swim 1,000 meters, or 20 lengths in a single day.
As a student I had my first experience of gliding and was hooked by the experience of silent, soaring flight. It is an air sport which involves remaining airborne by catching rising currents of air. Flying from my local club (Nene Valley Gliding Club near Peterborough) the challenge is to achieve a solo flight with a climb of over 1,000m (3,281ft) above launch height (for a sense of scale Ben Nevis is 1,345m high).
In 2010 I sailed across the North Sea as a trainee on the Norwegian ship Sorlandet (currently the World's oldest operational tallship). The experience going on deck during the day and night, and working as part of a watch team made a strong impression on me, the only regret being that we weren't in a race. So, this year I decided to join the Sorlandet again, on a leg of the tall ships race across the Baltic sea,
Preparation & Training (May & June 2017)
When my local Lido opened for the summer season at the end of May I began training for the swimming challenge. Having done no swimming since the previous summer there was a need to get back into condition for a full length underwater swim of 55 yards (or 50.29m).
At the gliding club I used the improving summer conditions to practice my gliding skills. Lift usually comes from thermals, rising bubbles of warm air, which are strongest in the summer. A good flight is partly a matter of luck, being at the club on a day when the sun shines and the cloud base is high - but there is also a need to practice to be able to fly accurately and efficiently in thermal bubbles.
Finally, I signed up as a crew member on the Sorlandet Tall Ship for the Lithuania to Poland leg of the Tall Ships Race 2017 series. This race would take place in the first week of August and involve me going on day and night watches, and aloft to work on the sails - see below for a report on this experience.
Mid-July update
June was then taken up with steady practice to be able to swim 50m underwater again. Then as I became more capable I worked on improving my 'hit rate' (the success rate of swimming a full 50m length) and swimming stamina (to prepare myself for the demands of doing 20+ lengths on the day).
Here is a video clip of me freediving the length of the Lido (just over 50m in length). It is a good feeling to do it, especially on a sunny day in a bright-shimmering swimming pool.
Saturday 29th July
In the morning I fitted in a quick freediving session at the Lido, it was a bit chilly (especially after the sun disappeared around 10am) and swam two lengths underwater. The day was running to a tight schedule as I needed to leave in the early evening for my sailing trip starting in Lithuania. The last hour was a rush but I eventually made the train to Scotland, arriving in Glasgow just after 10pm (along with a crew of Celtic fans who took over the train after boarding at Newcastle - thank goodness they were in a happy mood after an away win).
Dropping into a pub near Central Station I was treated to drinks by a Glaswegian couple celebrating their anniversary at midnight. Outside it was drizzling and there was little compulsion to rush. I didn't get to Glasgow airport till around 1am, digging out a sleeping bag and roll mat I bedded down on the floor of the terminal building next to a party of Belgian Scouts.
Sunday 30th July
An airport employee coaxed me awake at 4am, which is just as well as my flight was scheduled to leave at 6.35. The night's rain had abated, but a grey overcast hung over Paisley.
Palanga airport, on the coast of Lithuania, was a complete contrast. The sun shone from a sky of fluffy clouds. The airport, not much larger than a regional railway station, was clean and appeared well run (with handy things like a water cooler and local maps in the arrival area). Within an hour of arriving I had strapped on my rucksack, exited the terminal building and walked down the airport road south towards the town of Palanga. At the southern perimeter of the airport I took a turn East and a kilometer further was walking among high standing conifers.
Pushing through the trees I came upon the beach, and kicking off my
shoes I walked the beautiful and spotless shoreline for about 5km before
arriving at the town of Palanga.
Klaipeda is the major port town of Lithuania, and the port
at which I would join my ship. I found
it a very pleasant small city, which gave some insight into Lithuania. It also hosted the Tall Ship Festival, and I made use of the two
spare days before joining my ship to explore the city and to visit the
impressive tall ships.
I don’t know if it is typical of the country but the city had a public park with many sculptures, a basketball court (the most popular sport) and a huge stark WWII memorial.
I don’t know if it is typical of the country but the city had a public park with many sculptures, a basketball court (the most popular sport) and a huge stark WWII memorial.
Tuesday 1st August
Walking through Klaipeda town one last time, I made my way
to the harbour to join the Sorlandet – the three masted tallship on which would
be my home for the next six days as a trainee crew member. It was difficult not to feel a rush of
excitement, apart from the challenge of the race to Poland there was also the expectation
of meeting my fellow crew mates for the first time.
In the rainy late morning the Sorlandet was nudged out of
the harbour by a green ‘Boaty McBoatface’ look-alike tug, and we then motored past the Curonian Split sandbar (and a beautiful nature reserve) into the
Baltic Sea to join up with the armada of sailboats that would then compete in
the race to Szczecin in Poland.
The race started in the afternoon, by then the sky had
cleared and the sea turned from grey to a textured blue as a westerly headwind
met our bows. With the sails unfurled we
organised into gangs to haul on the various ropes to trim the sails.
Wednesday 2nd August
The day before I had been selected for the 4-8 watch team,
meaning that we would crew the boat between the hours of 4am and 8am, and then
4 and 8 in the afternoon. So, at 4am
after a snatched breakfast we climbed up on to the dark main deck to muster and
relieve the previous watch. A headwind still blew from the west, meaning that the whole
racing fleet was tacking (sailing into the wind at an angle) to make progress.
By the end of the first full day the watch team had become the defacto social unit, by dint of the fact that we retired to sleep, woke, ate, shared duties and socialised together at exactly the same times. Our two sisters watches quickly became 'other people' with curious habits of sleeping and relaxing at strange times when we didn't.
An attraction of the Sorlandet was the diversity of the trainees, partly as a reflection of the openess of Norway to newcomers. In my watch team the following nations were represented; Finland, Holland, Lithuania, Norway, Syria and England.
An attraction of the Sorlandet was the diversity of the trainees, partly as a reflection of the openess of Norway to newcomers. In my watch team the following nations were represented; Finland, Holland, Lithuania, Norway, Syria and England.
Thursday 3rd August
The start of the second full day of crewing saw me heading to the bow of the ship in the dark of the early morning. The front of the ship can be an exciting place, to watch the ship crash and slice its way through the waves - sometimes in the company of dolphins, and on a hot afternoon it is a popular place to hang out and catch some sun with a cooling breeze. But at four in the morning no one is going to keep company while you look out ahead in the gloom for small boats, lost shipping containers and other objects to which the radar is blind. Instead their was a windblown eeriness, and the water looked oily black as we surged through it at up to 10kts, and one is sometimes dogged by the thought of how long it might take for someone, anyone, to notice if by chance you were to slip over the side...That afternoon the Captain announced over the tannoy that he had something to report to all of us. For this we mustered around under the main mast in the middle of the ship. The news was disappointing; because of the headwind the racing fleet had become dispersed and if the race continued it would be unlikely that the fleet would all make it to the destination port (Szczecin) in time for the weekend festival. So the race would end that evening, though I should add it wasn't scrapped as the race officials could still judge race rankings from final positions. For us crews this didn't stop our duties tending to the sails and rigging, steering, looking out, fire watch as well as washing and tidying up our floating home.
Click here to see a news report of this voyage prepared by a crew mate (in Lithuanian) - it includes clips of the back of my head, and me washing down a wall.
Though the race had ended spirits on the ship began to rise as we neared our destination. The sun climbed higher into a clear sky and on entering the inlet from the Baltic small groups and crowds waved at us on our beautiful white ship. The way to Szczecin involved navigating a canal system and then a lagoon, sharing the water way with smaller boats and indifferent waterfowl. Nearing the city, an expectation built as we caught sight of some of the many ships that would assemble for the weekend festival, the small crowds on the banks soon grew into a milling mass that dominated the quayside. And then, at our docking space in the centre of the harbour a band played and a welcoming party feted our arrival!
Weekend 5th/6th August
Before arriving I had no set expectations of Szczecin, an ex-industrial shipping port on Poland's Western edge. There was little inkling of the scale and nature of the Tall Ship Festival that would ensue over the weekend, a weekend made glorious by dawn to dusk sunshine. The festival sprawled and closed down the harbour area, the expected crowds so large that the Polish army set up two pontoon bridges across the river - each wide enough for three buses to drive across side by side, so that festival goers could walk across between attractions.
Explore the scale of the festival with this impressive 360 drone-view of the festival.
On the Saturday evening, a bloke called Andrea Boccelli took to the main stage. His presence caused the harbour area to seize up as people clammered to the open air concert. On the Sorlandet we had no such issue, as we were moored adjacent to stage. Afterwards, when the encores had died down a firework display decorated the sky, probably the best display I have ever seen.
The short video below shows scenes from the concert and the firework display.
On Sunday I become Norwegian for the afternoon when joining the ship's company for massed crew parade through the city of Szczecin, In fact the afternoon felt a perfect moment in time, an almost unimprovable experience and spectacle. In front of us the smartly turned out crew from the Omani navy charged the air with a rhythmic clapping chant, led by the skirl of their heroic bagpiper. Behind us strung out over half the city marched a score of crews and marching bands. Accepting its invite the Sun basked for us and the people of Szczecin who lined our parade of the city. This is how an Olympic ceremony might feel, there are crews from all over the world; we all come from somewhere but today we only belong here. The parade is so large it takes over the main precinct of the city - watch the video below.
The weekend in Szczecin provided an opportunity to rub shoulders with sailors from all over the world, below is a link to portrait pictures that I captured:
Flickr album of portrait pictures (opens in a new window)
Monday 7th August
Arriving at Szczecin station at quarter past seven in the evening (with 25 minutes to spare) for a train to the airport. A queue about 30 people deep awaits me, I join the queue...
At around 7.30pm I am not even half way along the queue. So picking up my rucksack and walking to the head of the queue, I ask in an earnest voice if I could jump in to catch the last train for my flight. The young man I speak to looks at me and says in deadpan "I could let you in, but the other people might kill me." He wasn't joking, I end up rushing to meet the train and asking the conductor if I can buy a ticket on-board.
Saturday 12th August
The first training swim since arriving back from Poland (the weather having been grey and rainy for much since returning from Poland), and a fortnight since the last training swim. I felt relief after completing 6 underwater lengths of the Lido, with 5 minute breaks in between.
Sunday 13th August
Promising weather forecast for the day and the gliding club busily got itself ready for a day of flying. Some other pilots have higher priority flying tasks so I must wait for a club glider to become available. I watch with some frustration as gliders take off and disappear skywards on strong thermals. At 14.30 a glider becomes available to fly, I strap in, do the pre-flight checks, and then am launched by a winch cable. The glider, with me inside, rides upwards and then the cable breaks at about 800ft (quite possibly because of a thermal straining the wire) - I respond, flying the glider in a circle to catch the thermal but without success. After landing I persuade the ground team to let me try again, this time the launch goes without a hitch, and at 1,200ft I release and stumble into a thermal almost immediately, winding round and round as the ground slowly shrinks below. This journey towards the clouds comes to an end at about 3,500ft as the lift peters. During the climb I ascended about 2,300ft (around 700m) not enough! Cloud base is at least a thousand feet above, so a further climb should be possible. Unfortunately that is as high as I get today, my search for lift else where bears little fruit.
Tuesday 15th August
In the evening I visited the Lido again for freedive practice. A nice evening with strong sunshine, though it is beginning to feel cool and even a bit chilly. I manage 8 lengths of the Lido, though at the end I am feeling a touch of cold fatigue. The coolness of August comes as a surprise, it seems so sudden after the balmy days of July - hopefully a heatwave will roll in before the end of the month.
Thursday 17th August
I visit the gliding club in the early afternoon, and to my surprise everyone is assembled in the clubhouse having a lunch conference, even though the sun is shining a decision has been made not to fly today. Instead, after driving back to Peterborough, I spend almost two hours in the Lido pool practicing the routine for the 1,000m freedive attempt.
As the freedive attempt will require at least 20 lengths of the 50m pool to complete my plan is to split the challenge into sets of 5 lengths. Apart from allowing regular breaks to be taken after each set of 5 lengths, it also has a psychological benefit (by breaking the task into smaller, easier to achieve bites). The practice session involved two sets (10 lengths in total), and all are successful except for the 7th length where I had to surface prematurely. Still, this is a good success rate and about the furthest I have swam underwater in a single session. However, the time taken to compete these two sets dismays me, almost two hours. With cooling water and air temperatures the recuperation period between each length now involves not only building up oxygen levels but also energy (by warming up again). So instead of around 5 minutes to gain my breath, it's now taking close to ten to get back to normal. Conserving energy (by keeping warm) is something I am going to have to prepare for.
Saturday 19th August
Late into the evening I recheck the weather forecast for the coming week. The experience of Thursday's swim has impressed on me the need to do the freedive challenge on a warm day with little or no wind, unfortunately there aren't many possibilities left before the Lido closes its doors on September 3rd, on top of that the days are generally cooling. Should I try tomorrow? The forecast is 20 degrees and the wind is fairly light and from the west (which offers some protection from the buildings). Or should I try on a day during the week when temperatures might hit 24, but with a more exposed wind from the east. The matter is still undecided when I go to bed.
Sunday 20th August
I am up early and watch the progress of the bright morning, it looks promising and the forecast suggests sunshine till around 4pm. Around 10am I decide to proceed with the freedive challenge and pack my swim kit, as well as extra towels and clothing to help keep warm and dry when recuperating, and lots of snacks.
On reflection I should have arrived earlier at the Lido, instead I am changed and ready to start at around 12.30pm. The sun is out, but it isn't very warm and there is a slight breeze. On the plus side, the summer crowds aren't here so I don't have to jostle for a clear lane to swim in.
Everybody has noticed the freshness of the water, at around 20 degrees, and all feel a certain reluctance to dip into it, I have to take a deep breath before sinking down to my neck, and then it doesn't feel so bad.
A good start is in the bag, after I swim the first length fully underwater. One of the regular swimmers asks me if I am going to do it again, and respond that I hope to do it another 19 times today! Using a special tick sheet of five rows of five boxes (each row signifying a set of 5 lengths) I tick the first one off. I also fold the sheet in half, hiding the last five rows, if I can swim 20 lengths perfectly the other five won't be necessary to achieve an underwater distance of 1,000m and the ordeal can be over that much sooner. Toweling off and putting on a hoodie I prepare for the next length, knowing that a key strategy is to keep warm.
The first set goes well, all five lengths successful (with a combined distance of 250m) but it has taken an hour. with the sun still shining I take a half hour break to recuperate with tea and a snack.
As I begin the second set of 5 lengths commitment is in the balance, the slow cooling toll of the day is sapping my energy and resolve. With the bulk of the challenge still to do this is the lowest psychological point, and my way forward involves making a deal with myself to see the second set through - and then, perhaps, deciding to call it day; but not before.
Happily, the second set is a complete success (to my surprise), the combined distance is now 500m and this is the best I have ever swam underwater. Now, it is time for an hour long lunch and rest; salami and cheese on bread and my special energy snack (digestives with peanut butter and banana), and rest on a concrete bench (the most comfortable surface I can find).
It's getting on for 4pm as I begin the third set, the sun is now obscured by an opaque patina of high level clouds. The over-riding urge is to get this task completed, so it is done and the cloying cold can be left behind.
All goes well with the third set, including length thirteen, that is until the fourteenth when I force myself to the surface early. On this length I swim about 45m, unable to will myself further. I recuperate again, hopefully this doesn't signal a deterioration in performance.
The fifteenth is successful (combined distance of at least 740m), coming short on the 14th means that I will need to make it up on an extra length at the end to reach a 1,000m, but at least there is the third break now to repair to.
The start of the fourth set brought a hint that the end was in sight, and a spur to carry on and finish. It was now half past five, the sky was a seasonless grey, and though it wasn't warm there was a curious feeling of it being slightly warmer, perhaps as a consequence of being normalised to the cool air and water. With each length swam I began to feel buoyed as the finish neared. In fact I swam the last set successfully - again another 5 lengths in full (combined distance over 990m). 19 successful lengths out of 20, that is far better than I had planned and (realistically) hoped. It was now 6.40pm, the pool would close at seven and I realised how fortunate it was that I didn't start any later, for running out of swimming time would mean having to start the challenge all over again on another day!
There was just the matter now of swimming at least 10m on the 21st length, I went for it and surfaced at the 40m mark, so a combined distance of at least 1,030m - the challenge was accomplished.
Though celebrating with a glass of Prosecco later, nothing surpassed the hot shower I luxuriated in after that swim. As I absorbed the warmth of the water the feeling of physical accomplishment was accompanied by the sense of relief that this six plus hour endeavour was accomplished with just minutes to spare.
Thursday 24th August
Disappointing news has arrived in the form of an email from the gliding club.
A club glider has suffered a heavy landing (funnily, on the same day I was doing the 1,000m freedive) thankfully no one was hurt. As a precaution the aircraft is going to be taken apart and inspected, and probably won't be ready to fly again till sometime in the Autumn. With one less glider to share amongst club members means less opportunity to fly and to gain the 1,000m challenge.
Bank Holiday Monday 28th August
Two flights, the best height I can manage is 1,800ft, well short.
Thursday 31st August
A promising looking day with strong thermals. I fly to a height of 3,500ft (a height gain of around 2,200ft) but am unable to reach cloud base. Flying under a cloud I get caught in rain and droplets blow in through the vent, at least I see a rainbow.
Saturday 2nd August
Some flights are suffused by indelible memories, as the one on this day. Though expecting sunshine I found myself driving through a misty fog to the airfield. The flying forecasts looked excellent and as the morning developed the sun dissipated the fog and then dotted the sky with low puffy cumulus (each a marker of a rising thermal). Gliders launched and found lift while I waited for the optimal time to fly; just after midday I strapped in, carried out pre-flight checks and waited for the signal to go. However, the weather found mischief in slowly reversing the wind direction and the duty instructor made the call to re-organise the airfield, in effect to move the gliders to the other end of the airfield (close to a mile away) to where the launch winch was (and to bring it here to where we were) so that launching could be made into the wind. Unstrapping, I climbed out and helped with the reorganisation.
Actually the delay was not something I minded as flying conditions were improving, and a liitle before 1pm was back in the cockpit ready for launch. The warmth of the sun filled the canopy as it shut, I was hoping to remain comfortably warm at height with a long sleeved shirt and boots to keep my toes warm. The launching cable tightened then pulled the glider forward, accelerating it and allowing it to fly. With graduated movement I rotate the nose to point it skywards into a climb, the earth drops below the nose and finds its level on each side of the canopy, and then use this to check the tilt of the horizon against the line of the wings. The speed builds up a little too much, and a waggle of the fueslage by pumping my feet on the rudder pedals signals the winch driver to ease the throttle. In around 20 seconds the glider has been hauled upwards to 1,200ft and I release and begin the search for rising thermals to be borne even higher.
Turning left away from the airfield I travel towards a nearby wood which has been a 'lucky' provider of thermals in the past. On the way at about a thousand feet the glider trembles slightly and a slight surge wells from underneath, this is the gleeful sensation of being pushed upwards by rising air. Quickly I lower one of the wings down and begin to circle, to find and wrap within the bubble of rising air. This thermal (or perhaps my skill) proves to be mild and ascent is slow, but reliable. Circling around and around my attention is drawn to the cricket pitch of Upwood village over a thousand feet below, bright white figures against the green and I admire the neat fielding positions describing a near perfect oval about the axis of the stumps, and within I spy the the rapid dash of a bowler. This first thermal requires a quarter of an hour to reach 2,000ft. The ascent continues as the lift seems to improve with height, up above an orange glider winds itself around as I climb up deom below. Near the top of the thermal I give a cheer as two buzzards fly in front of the nose, not twenty yards away. Unimpressed by the bulky and awkward glider they buzz off and leave the thermal to me.
Flying from thermal to thermal I attempt to climb up to cloud base, and finally get the chance when a large growing cloud slowly slides in from the west. Its base is wide and dark, and underneath thermals well up and they are strong - some giving a climb rate in excess of 600ft a minute. Winding up towards the base, I watch for other gliders and the encroaching bulk of the vaporous mountain. As the base nears wisps of vapour tear off, congeal and dissipate. From afar a puffy cloud appears benign and stable but its appearance conceals a maelstrom, for as rising air nears the cloud it sheds its moisture, adding it to the bulk of the cloud, free of this burden the rising air then accelerates upwards into the cloud. Glider pilots have to be wary not to be drawn up into it, and to lose the horizon and visual reference. Instead I fly along its bottom heading to the cloud's southern sunny face. At the edge I contact lift and begin a climb up its side winding back and forth, as far as I can, this is amongst the most enjoyable and satisfying flying yet experienced, and when the lift petered I glance at the altimeter; 4,500ft or so - maybe enough for the 1,000m climb.
Thermal activity is still strong when I decide to come in and land, touching down around half past three, after a two and half hour flight. My flight has been monitored using a gps tracking device, which is capable of measuring altitude, and a club member takes it to download the data. Having enjoyed a long flight I help out on the ground, and flying on this exceptional day carries on past 7pm by this time the sun has turned into a low orange orb. Later over a beer I am told the outcome of the data analysis, to qualify for an 'official' 1,000m gain in height using the gps tracking device it has to take into account the uncertainty in the gps measurement (in this case 100m). So my climb data has to record a height gain of 1,100m, it is apparently 200ft short (about 70m)! Oh well, it's a shame but after one of the best flights in my life, I care not. The challenge is still on.
Sunday 24th September
With summer past the opportunities for thermal flying diminishes. Today, my flight lasts less than 10 minutes; riding the cable upwards to about 900 feet and an attempt to ascend in an indeterminate patch of rising air. My attempts aren't successful and am soon at the point where I need to establish a circuit around the airfield to land.
Saturday 30th September
With poor weather forecast I decide to concentrate on a list of outstanding jobs at home. As the morning develops, the sun finds strength and the clouds break up, and the day's warmth hefts up cloud base. It looks a good day, and I am not flying!
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