Laura Latham and Cedric Guyot recently swam at the Défi de Monte Cristo race off Marseilles. Laure recownts her experience.
Until last Sunday (21 June 2015), I did not realise that cow milking cream could be part of a swimmer’s arsenal. Now, I know better. The Défi de Monte Cristo is a 5K swim organised as a tribute to the daring escape described in Alexandre Dumas’ book in Marseilles. The itinerary is as follows, jump off the pier at the Chateau d’If. Make a bee line for the coast. Turn right after the Ile de Sourdaras. Follow the coast for a bit, trying to spot yellow buoys. Turn left after the red buoy. Smile for the cameras on the Plage du Prado.
The 2015 edition was held over two days, with the ‘big’ event being the Saturday 5K swim with fins. My brother and a jolly band of his friends took part in that swim, all wearing wetsuits, scuba diving fins, scuba masks and frontal snorkels. Quite the sight. I had some trouble identifying some of them on the finish line because of all the kit. I also had a moment of proud feminism when the Saturday race was won by a 25-year old woman who swam the course in 49 minutes and 46 seconds, with a mermaid-type giant monofin. I was also quite chuffed that one of our group, underwater photographer Alex Voyer, came fourth in his category. My brother finished very nicely in one hour and 38 minutes. My other half, Cedric and I have placed our times below.
Cédric and I swam on Sunday for the event described as a “5K no-fins” race. Like Saturday’s race, it was almost cancelled because of strong westerly winds (le Mistral) on the previous night. It was only at 8.45am that the race organisers blared out from the public address system that the race would go ahead as planned … at 9am. Time to get changed and all that bull.
On entering the women’s changing tent I spotted a woman slathering thick white jelly on her upper body with gloves. White vaseline? “It’s cow milking cream,” she answered. I wasn’t sure I had heard that well so I came closer to check. Genuine “Crême à traire” on the bench. Straight from the farm. “It’s heavy stuff,” she explained, “Much better than Body Glide. Apply too much of it on your body, and you’re sweating like a pig.” Well, she was wearing a wetsuit on top of it. “Also”, she added, “don’t get it on your hands.” Oh? Another woman, intrigued, asked why. “You can’t even feel the water with this stuff.” Seriously? Now she had my attention. I knew that the Mistral brings bottom cold water to the surface and was definitely interested, a bit worried that I’d get cold during the swim. Feeling like I couldn’t pass on a new experience, I applied some crème à traire liberally under my swim suit shoulder straps.
Sadly, it didn’t make any difference at all in terms of keeping me warm in the water but the myth of the crème à traire gave me a good laugh nonetheless. (Note that as Laure was suggesting that this cream had as much functionality as tits on a bull, it is therefore not a cream we would recommend using.)
Between 9 and 10am, 739 swimmers were ferried in human transporters of 150-batches to the Chateau d’If. The boat ride took roughly 20 minutes and everybody seemed in good spirits. If you want to know, the latest in wetsuits fashion is duct tape on the back of the neck to prevent chafing. Let’s hope that it works as well as the unavoidable hair removal operation post-race.
At 10.30am, the race organisers asked swimmers to get in the water and sounded the start signal, a minute later. I got in the water last (literally, last – two Chateau d’If guys were telling me to get in the water lest I should miss the fun) because I hate being swam over. Cedric, in his wetsuit, jumped in with the crowds and I lost sight of him immediately. The lady slathered like a cow’s teat had also given me the slip. The water was nice and clear near the Chateau d’If, with alternating layers of warm and cold but nothing unmanageable. The race organisers had announced 17C for most of the race and 19C closer to the beach at the end.
As soon as I turned the Iles de Sourdouras, I swear the temperature dropped. Brr, if this was 17C, it was a very shy 17C. Where were the thermal qualities of the crème à traire when I needed them? While I was slow before the islands, I was even slower after. Good thing that speed was not my goal. Finishing was. And so, I held on tight and kept swimming despite feeling quite cold inside my bones. Oh, how I yearned for a nice cup of hot tea filled with cow’s milk in the Serpentine changing room at the half-way point. It would have been lovely and would have warmed my French cockles. Alas, nothing of the sort. Mediterranean fishies are not the sort to come and serve a steaming cup of English Breakfast tea while chatting about the weather. Fortunately for me, a very nice kayak guy offered words of encouragement during the last mile and it made a huge difference for me as I was ready to give up. I guess that ultimately, I didn’t give up because I didn’t want to disappoint my girls and because I could feel Nick Adams' watchful eyes from the clouds above whispering, “Good girl, onward and upward. Big love.”
At last, I succeeded in escaping the Chateau d’If. It took me two hours 16 minutes, which, believe it or not, was not even the worst time. I was ranked 651 out of 658, second to last woman swimmer. On the up side and to make me feel better, roughly 70 swimmers gave up with a DNF because of the cold. Most were wearing wetsuits. Cedric finished honourably in one hour and 30 minutes and ranked 290 out of 658. As for the winner, he finished in an impressive 54 minutes and 40 seconds, which I still don’t understand.
Last but not least. I was mildly hypothermic at the end, but nothing out of the ordinary knowing me. Since others on the beach didn’t know me, the shivering scared them and they sent me three firemen who offered an IV to get my body temperature up. An IV? Sheesh. Udderly ridiculous. I was only too glad to decline and was back on my two feet 20 minutes later.
Now, I have a new shapeless and unflattering Défi de Monte cristo tee-shirt. Remind me never to wear it or toss me in the sea if I do.
Thanks to Laure for the story and photos [John T]
