THE YOUNGEST CHANNEL SWIMMER #English story

At its narrowest point in the Straits of Dover, the English Channel is about thirty-four kilometres wide. The challenge of this narrow strip of sea, which separates England from France, has attracted the cream of long distance swimmers from all over the world, ever since it was first swum by Captain Matthew Webb in 1875. In order to succeed in this gruelling test endurance and stamina, a swimmer needs courage, determination and superb fitness, for the channel is not easily conquered. Its icy waters can grip tired muscles like a vice and the strong tides and currents flowing through the straits can add many kilometres to the distance. There are other dangers to be overcome, too; large schools of jellyfish whose trailing tentacles can deliver a painful sting; and the problems posed by the heavy volume of shipping which constantly passes through one of the world's busiest sea-lanes. As dawn broke on the morning of 4 August 1979, yet another bid to swim the Channel was under way on Shakespeare Beach, Dover. A small fishing boat, which was to accompany the swimmer, was moored off-shore with its engine idling." waiting for the final preparations to be completed. On the beach, a group of people, including officials of the Channel Swimming Association, was clustered around the swimmer while his helpers smeared on the last of the two kilograms of lanolin grease with which his body would be coated to protect him from the cold during the long hours he would spend in the water. To the casual onlooker there was nothing in the preparation for this attempt on the Channel to set it apart from others which had been witnessed over the years. But for the Swimmer, twelve-year old Kevin Anderson, a Std 5 pupil from Port Alfred in the Cape, it was the climax to many months of punishing training and rigid self-discipline. Within minutes, for the second time in a year, he would attempt to become the youngest person ever to swim the English Channel. Here is Kevin's own account of what happened during the next twelve and a half hours:

There was a buzz around my ears as I was being greased up, thoughts were elsewhere. All my training had been for this one day a had looked forward to it eagerly. Now that it was here, I felt nervous these people around me but I was the only one who could crow training with success; no one but myself. The longer I waited, the more nervous I became, so I was only pleased when heard the observer at the water's edge say: "All right Kevin you can start now."
As I plunged into the water, the English Channel wrapped me in its cold arms. I swam out to the accompanying boat and I was now on my way. The fruits of six month's hard training were now being put to the test. As I settled into the rhythm of my stroke, my mind wondered back to the strenuous training I had done back home in preparation for this swim. I started training tor my attempt on the Channel in February 1979, by swimming for two hours a day in the Kowie River at Port Alfred. Once a week I would swim for five hours non-stop and I was allowed one day a week to rest entirely from swimming. I slowly built up my five-hour sessions and, towards the end of my training programme, I was doing a ten-hour swim one Saturday and a five-hour swim the next. In addition to my swimming, I also did land training for one hour in the morning and another hour in the evening. When doing a ten-hour swim, my day would start at 6.30am when I would get up and eat breaktast. I started swimming at 7.00am and would stop at 5.00pm, after swimming continuously for the whole ten hours. During these swims I fed on liquidised banana and high-concentrate orange juice as well as warm, sweet, black coffee. I had feeding stops after two hours, four hours and then every hour and a half thereafter. The harsh drumming of the boats propeller in motion brought my mind back to reality. I had now been swimming for two hours and was due for my first feeding stop. My father stopped me and gave me the liquidised banana and high-concentrate orange juice, followed by the sweet, black coffee. While I fed, he told me that everything on the boat was all right. I changed my goggles which had become greasy and was on my way again. I began to feel bored, so I belted out school house chants and also sang my favourite pop songs. The one that I enjoyed most was 'Too Much
Heaven' by the Bee Gees. I am sure they would not have been pleased if they had heard the way I sang it. When I ran out of songs to sing, my father gave me long words and I would try to see how many shorter words I could make out of the one large word. To this day, I can still remember the first word. It was Constantinople. After five and a half hours, we ran into a squall and all the people on the boat took cover. While they were sheltering, I quipped, "I hope I don't get wet!" I was actually quite glad when the squall came for it blotted out the White Clifs of Dover from my sight and made me feel somehow farther from my starting point. However, the rain soon passed and everything the boat returned to normal. Seven and a half hours after Ieaving Dover, we ran into an oil slick and I had to swim for a while with my head above the water. Luckily it was not as serious as everyone had feared and it was soon behind us. During the ninth and tenth hours I was swimming through schools of jellyfish. This was the worst part of the whole swim. The people in the boat were trying to direct me through the jellyfish but, inevitably, I was stung several times on my arms, legs and body. During these couple of hours, I was diving this way and that, trying to avoid the outstretched tentacles. At ten hours, I had my last feeding stop and my dad explained that a slack tide, would be running which would be right behind me, pushing me towards the French coast. The rest of the swim should take me only another hour to complete. Unfortunately, exactly the opposite had happened, I had run into a flood tide, which was against me. I couldn't understand why I didn't seem to be getting any closer to the coast, but this was due to the flood tide that I didn't know about. Eventually I swam past the outstretched arm of Cap Griz Nez. The boat stopped and I swam out ahead, knowing that I was just about there. Then I got the fright of my life as two Frenchmen swam out wanting to shake hands with me. I gave them a wide berth because if they had touched me, I would have been disqualified. My hands touched French soil. I had made it! Walking clear of the water, I pulled my cap and goggles off and raised my hands above my head. My first thoughts were, "We' ve made it, we've made it" Notice that I say "we" and not "I"  because without the support of my family and the time they had sacrificed for me, Swimming the English Channel would have been totally impossible. Landing in France had always been a dream, but now it had become a reality. I had swum the Channel in twelve hours and twenty-two minutes.
At the age of twelve years, four months and four days, Kevin Anderson had become the youngest swimmer ever to conquer the Channel. He had fought the cold, the tides, his own exhaustion and that deadly enemy long-distance swimmer, boredom, for more than twelve hours and he had overcome them all. When he eventually set foot on the French mainland, he had swum a distänce of fifty-seven kilometres and fifty-eight thousand strokes to achieve an ambition he had set himself almost two years earlier an ambition which had called for an extraordinary degree of dedication, self-discipline and determination from a boy who was still at Primary School.

Kevin had first shown promise as a talented sportsman when he lived in Welkom, where he was selected for the Free State swimming and
tennis teams in his age group. It was at this time that the seeds of his great ambition were first planted. He had read about a thirteen-year old British schoolboy, David Morgan, who had just become the youngest successful Channel swimmer. Though he himself was not yet eleven years old at the time, Kevin there and then decided that he would beat that record. At first his parents did not take him seriously and his mother was horrified to think of her small boy spending so many hours in the sea. Eventually, they realised that Kevin was determined to try and was confident that he could succeed. The family doctor gave his support, telling them that Kevin was unlikely to come to serious harm as his body would just stop if it could go no further. Kevin went into strict training at the St Helena Pool in Welkom, where he was to swim thousands of lengths during the next few months. The arrival in England of the eleven-year old South African who was going to try to beat the Channel record caused a sensation in the newspapers and on television and radio. This led to great public interest in the swim. Many people, including experienced members of the Channel Swimming Association, felt that he was too young for such an exhausting effort. But Kevin, his father and his trainer were confident of his success. Among others who supported him were the only two other South Africans who had ever swum the Channel, Mr Dennis Pearson and Mr Peter Bales. Both believed he could make it if he was fit enough, but added the warning that his greatest battle would be with himself during the long, lonely hours in the water.
On 4 July 1978 the long-awaited moment arrived and Kevin waded into the sea at Dover and struck out in the direction of France. To begin with, he set a fast pace and covered seven kilometres in two hours. But after four hours his legs were aching so much that he began to feel that he could not go on. Nevertheless, in spite of the pain and a close encounter witn a giant oil-tanker which passed by only metres away, Kevin's determination to succeed carried him onwards for another three and a half hours. Then the watchers in the boat noticed that the rhythm of his swimming had become erratic and he seemed to have lost his sense of direction. Kevin was fighting a losing battle to stay awake and for his own safety his father made the heartbreaking decision to call it off and take him out of the water. When they lifted him into the boat, Kevin was fast asleep and did not wake up again for half an hour. The doctor had been right. His body had had enough and have gone to sleep , only ten kilometres from the French coast.
The disappointment of this first failure did nothing to dampen the boy's determination. He told reporters that he was sorry that he had not succeeded but he had learnt much that would stand him in good stead when he tried again. He was sure that there would be another attempt as he still had a year to go in which to beat the record for the youngest crossing. His father, too, felt that he deserved another opportunity. If he was once more prepared to undergo the months of training and dedication, he would be stronger and more experienced the following year, which would increase his chances of success.
Back in South Africa, the Anderson family moved to Port Alfred and, in February 1979, Kevin began his preparation for his second Channel swim, which was planned for August. You have already read Kevin's own account of the strenuous training schedule he had to follow. During the long hours spent swimming up and down the Kowie River, he was sometimes accompanied by his two sisters in a canoe and they helped pass the lonely hours and relieve the boredom by playing word games with him or playing the radio. After each swim, even on the coldest days of what happened to be a severe winter, he went home to a cold shower or bath. In order to accustom his body to the cold water to which it would be exposed in the Channel, he would not have a hot bath or shower again until after the Channel swim was over. The long, weary hours of training and all the help he received from his family and friends were finally crowned with success in that triumphant moment when he waded out of the sea on to the windswept French beach at Cap Gris Nez on 4 August 1979. It was a triumph of determination and courage in pursuit of a great ambition. Exactly thirteen months after the disappointment of narrowly failing at his first attempt, he had returned and Conquered the English Channel. Twelve-year old Kevin Anderson had shown that he possessed exceptional courage and self-discipline during the long training sessions and during the twelve and a half hours he had spent in the Channel. Within a few short hours of achieving his ambition, he was to show that he was a great sportsman too. Kevin was to hold the record for being the youngest Channel swimmer for less than a day. On 5 August, Marcus Hooper, a British boy who was two an a half months younger than Kevin made the crossing in just under fifteen hours. When asked how he had felt about it, Kevin replied, "Naturally, I was disappointed but I felt happy for him because I knew he must have trained just as hard as I had" Although Kevin's record was short-lived, his achievement deserves to be remembered as a supreme example of what can be achieved by dogged determination and a burning will to succeed. It should be an inspiraion to all who are tempted to lose heart, or to give up hope, in the face of dificulties or disappointments.

The youngest channel questions
1. Discuss some of the dangers which Channel swimmers have to face.
2. Do you think it is a good thing for a child to give up everytning in order to achieve one great ambition?
3. What did Kevin do to prevent boredom during his swim? Why was it so important that he did this?
4. The Channel is 34km wide. Why did Kevin have to swim 57km?
5. When did Kevin first show that he was a very determined young boy
6. If you had been Kevin, how would you have felt when your record was broken so soon after you had achieved it?
7. Summarise the main points of the first two paragraphs in about 120 words
8. Write an account of any great sporting achievement you have seen or heard about.

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