Why I open water swim

Above my desk I have a small, framed picture with the words: ‘Into the sea I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.’ That sums it up for me. When you first walk into a large expanse of cold water, whether that’s a lake or the sea, there really isn’t much room in your head for anything else. It forces you into a state of instant, all-encompassing mindfulness. Controlling your breathing as your body gets used to the cold; feeling the stinging, tingling sensation on your skin; navigating the waves to avoid a wipeout; or noticing the reflection of the sky on a calm flat sea. 

There is no better cure for the restless mind, full of cases and focused on the problems of others. 

There’s also the social aspect. I never swim alone in the winter – it just isn’t safe to – and swim with a joyous bunch of Bluetits Chill Swimmers. I am also a member of the Serpentine Swimming Club and swim in that iconic lake in the centre of Hyde Park when the blue green algae permits.

The Bar can be a solitary profession, and even in a supportive chambers like mine, the reality is that we mostly work alone.

Cold water swimming attracts the most interesting people and my swim groups are no exception. I swim with Jungian analysts and hypnotherapists, filmmakers and support workers, meditators and mediators. They really are the most supportive bunch.

Changing into a swimsuit under a dry robe by the side of the Serpentine is a great leveller. We all drink steaming tea out of the same chipped mugs after our swims.

This is why when one of my group said they had signed up to swim the Channel, I could not resist.

In the October before last, when I paid my deposit and joined my relay team, I could hardly swim a length of front crawl. I would get to the end gasping for breath and exhausted from the exertion.

Being part of a team and learning a new skill is a powerful motivator. Instead of many hours sitting unproductive at my desk staring at e-bundles I would make sure I went to the local pool at least four times a week to practise lengths and technique. This was on top of my regular cold-water swims for acclimatisation. I was more productive, not less productive, at preparing for cases because of these breaks. My time was focused and efficient to make way for the intense training.

Then there’s the cake. Anyone attempting a Channel swim is advised to gain weight for added warmth and buoyancy. At this I excelled.

The English Channel is known as the Mount Everest of swims. More people have climbed Mount Everest than have swum the Channel due to unpredictable conditions and tides. We were given a one-week window in July where we had to be in Dover waiting for conditions to allow us to safely attempt our swim across to France. 

This wait is affectionately known as the ‘Dover coaster’ as emotions spike. We were packed and ready to go at 8pm on 12 July, only to be told the Winds were too high. We set off on 13 July under a near Full Buck Moon. The winds from the previous night left a lot of swell, and the bright moon made the Channel water seem even darker when I lept in at 2am.

After we had all completed our first swim, the pilot (the local navigation expert) was not hopeful we would make it across. We knew we were a slow team, but the swell meant our first few legs were slower than predicted and the tide was set to take us off course so that we would miss France. Two of our team had extreme seasickness. By my second swim, the sea had flattened out, I was sleep deprived but motivated and hungry. A career at the Bar had trained me well for this. I dug deep, pushed hard and swam further and faster than I had ever done before, powering forward through the smacks of jellyfish I encountered. After this swim the pilot said we might make it. Instead of resting, I spent my time on deck clapping and cheering on my teammates. After my third swim, I got back on deck to tears of joy from my teammates. ‘We’ve hit the right trajectory!’ I was told. It was then a matter of ‘when’ and not ‘if’, our pilot said. 17 hours and 34 minutes after we set off from Samphire Hoe, we hit the beach at Cap Gris-Nez.

Standing on the beach looking back to England knowing that we had got there against the odds through our own sheer effort and determination was so exhilarating.

I was also so grateful for the enormous support I received from my colleagues. I raised over £7,000, largely from the generous contributions from those at the Bar and my solicitor colleagues. This will allow my chosen charity, SwimTayka (swimtayka.org), to do vital drowning prevention work with children among the open waters of the world.