Into the Deep: 14 Hours and 26 Minutes. 42 Kilometers. The North Channel.

At 3 a.m. in Bangor Harbour, standing at the edge of the still, cold water, I felt it—the most important fuel I could carry into the Channel: love.

One Week Later

It’s been a week since I climbed out of the North Channel—42 kilometers, 14 hours and 26 minutes later And now, with the noise gone, the swelling down, and the adrenaline faded, the emotions are starting to hit.

I’ve spent the past few days reading your messages. Hundreds of them. Messages of love, of pride, of disbelief, of support from every corner of the world.

To be honest… it’s overwhelming. In the best way possible.

So I wanted to share something back—not in photos or headlines, but in my own words.

Here’s my written version of this incredible adventure.

Swim for Strength: One Swimmer, One Team, and the Support of Many

We started just after 4:00 a.m. off the rugged Northern Irish coast. It was pitch dark. The water, 13°C. I was praying for calm seas—and somehow, they answered. Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Uncle Peter.

From the very first stroke, I knew I had something many swimmers don’t: the best piloting crew on the planet.

At the helm were two men I trust with my life.

Andrew, who’s been with me on every one of my major swims, knows me inside out. He knows my strengths, my weaknesses, my mental walls, and how to steer me through them. He didn’t just track nutrition and timing—he anticipated every shift in my energy before I even felt it.

And then there was Markus, a rock throughout this entire journey. His presence was more than support—it was anchor and fire. He knew exactly when to get in the water and exactly how to push me forward when I had nothing left.

The rest of the Infinity crew—Jacqueline & Milo—absolute legends. Steady hands, sharp eyes, and unwavering hearts. I knew from the start: with them, I could go anywhere.

The Real Battle Was Inside

In the days leading up to the swim, the bad weather forced us to pause. It gave me something more valuable than rest: stillness. My brother JP introduced me to meditation. Those quiet moments gave me armor.

I knew the cold would come. I knew the current would fight me. I knew the stings would happen. But I also knew I could breathe through all of it.

At the halfway mark, I felt strong. My crew felt it too. We entered Scottish waters to the sound of bagpipes, “Eye of the Tiger” on the speakers, hot tea between strokes—Andrew nailed every detail. I was in good hands.

But that’s when it changed.

The Breaking Point

By the time I reached Scottish waters, I was broken.

Not just physically—mentally too. I saw land in the distance. Hope. But then I watched, helplessly, as we started drifting away from it and my heart broke.

I knew what that meant: I wasn’t almost done. I still had hours to go. The tide had turned, and now I’d have to fight harder than ever just to hold ground.

Could my body carry on?

My hands felt like crab claws—curled, numb, barely functioning. Each stroke became weaker, slower. My arms moved out of habit more than strength. My body wanted out. But something deeper held me in. The team. The mission. The reason.

Touching the Rocks

I kept swimming. I kept smiling at the crew. I didn’t moan—not once. (Okay, maybe a little inside.) But I shut the gremlins down and focused on one stroke at a time.

But my body… it was shutting down.

My hands were barely moving, my legs almost useless. I was drifting into silence—into that space where everything slows down and the line between continuing and surrender gets razor thin.

And that’s when my crew stepped in—not just as support, but as lifelines.

Markus jumped in for the fourth and final time, swimming beside me, matching every stroke, guiding me forward, refusing to let me sink into myself. Andrew was screaming from the boat, voice cracking, willing me to keep fighting. “You’re nearly there, Toni! DON’T STOP!” he yelled—again and again, as if every shout was pumping life back into my limbs.

Humbled by the Ocean

I’ve completed six of the Ocean7 swims now. And this one? This was the most humbling by far.

The North Channel didn’t just test me. It dismantled me. It demanded everything. And then it asked for more.

I didn’t conquer the North Channel.
The Channel allowed me through.
And I carry that truth with humility and respect.

I swam for my late father. For Uncle Peter. For my family. For every message of love sent.

For everyone tracking my dot. For the community of Blatten in the Lötschental Valley.

If this swim meant something to you, even a little—please consider supporting that community. The link is below.

What This Swim Taught Me

– The ocean is a teacher. Not a prize to win—but a force to learn from.
– Pain isn’t the enemy—it’s a message. Listen to it, then move through it.
– The finish line is never where you think it is. Keep going.
– You don’t finish swims like this on your own. You finish because your team refuses to let you stop.
– And true strength? It’s not in your arms or shoulders. It’s in the decision to take one more stroke when your entire body is begging you to quit.

This was number six. One more to go: Suguru, Japan – July 2026.

Until then, I’ll carry this one with me—42 kilometers, battled, bruised, and proud of the quietest victory I’ve ever earned.

Thank you for walking this journey beside me.

Toni