The wind was dropping badly in the big swell, and we could quite often come right off the plane in a lull only to rise to the crest of another wave and be totally out of control, over-powered, accelerating wildly down a mountain into a pit filled with chop. The chop was a trial of pain that caught us numerous times, stopping our acceleration, causing the sails to totally over power and forcing our muscles beyond the extreme. I often found myself bounced into mid air and slowly twisted before jolting to a flat landing; I would try to control this through a spin out, my arms burning, or by just accepting my fate and flopping back into the ocean.

The supertankers were, by all means, trucking across our paths, and would silently appear out of nowhere. As our visibility conditions were really bad, they would, at first  appear to us as in huge grey shapes, then as colourful giants churning through the Channel, their engines, which we could even hear groaning in the wind.
 
We had plenty of stops; on one I really thought I couldn't go on. Antoine and I sat on board the English rescue boat while the French boat kept an eye on our kit that was adrift for about 30 minutes. During this time, we both felt very sea sick, pretty much like everyone else on the boats. I was weak and uncomfortable, having been stuck on port tack for so long, and I truly thought I could not make it. When it came to jumping off a relatively safe boat for my kit, with Antoine already up and running on his, I could barely bring myself to do it. By now I was cold, sick, in pain and with zero energy. Oh, and lots of cramps too. It was the first time in my life that I actually got a cramp in my thumb.
 
At one point, the GPS was indicating that we were about 10 miles windward off the direct route. Despite the agony of being frozen in one tack, we had to get closer to England before we made any decisions to change tacks. So we powered on - as it was, after a slight change in the swell and probably wind direction, we arrived in UK waters just off Durleston Head west of Swanage Bay- only a mile or two upwind of Poole, so almost a direct hit.
 
We then spent about 45 minutes playing for the cameras off old Harry Rocks and Swanage with such a renewed energy, knowing we only had a few miles to go and nothing could stop us.

We landed at speed onto Sandbanks Beach to a mass of media- more press in fact than windsurfing has had in the UK for probably 15 years, after 6 hours of being at sea and probably nearly five hours of serious blasting. We were totally elated to a degree where pain seemed insignificant. 

We said we'd do it in the first storm this autumn, and we did it. We also got windsurfing on TV on four BBC and four ITV shows, lots of radio and local press coverage. And most importantly, we have raised over £7000 so far for the Ellen MacArthur Trust. The fund is going to personally change the lives of lots of children and their families next year, taking them from a low point most of us could not imagine to a place that I can only think is an even greater high than the elation we feel when everything comes together in a perfect storm windsurfing. Thanks to everyone who has donated to the Ellen MacArthur Trust at http://www.justgiving.com/windsurf.

Links

French video of the cannel crossing:

http://www.windmag.com/News/1679-exclu-traversee-de-la-manche-la-

video-officielle.html

Website of Guy Cribb: www.guycribb.com

Website of the fund: www.ellenmacarthurtrust.org

Website of the fundraising project: www.justgiving.com/windsurf

Website of Antoine Albeau: www.antoinealbeau.com

Portrait of Antoine Albeau: http://www.worldofwindsurfing.net/en/press-lounge/stories-for-departments/people/antoine-albeau-fra.html