THE WINNER

Channel vision

I've never really been one for relaxing on holiday, but maybe my last activity holiday was taking things a bit far.

All children have a dream — climbing Everest, being a professional footballer, prime minister ... Well, since I was a child, my dream was swimming the English Channel. A few years ago, on a SwimTrek holiday, I was encouraged to make my dream a reality. I contacted the Channel Swimming and Piloting Federation, booked my accredited pilot, Neil Streeter, and my slot, and started training in Dover. Here I was welcomed by the most altruistic, generous and kind group of people, who gave up every weekend from May to October to encourage, feed and mentor us Channel aspirants.

I spent every weekend training in Dover harbour with an international group, building up from 40 minutes in 9C water in May, to six- and seven-hour swims from June. I stayed at the Sandown Guest House (sandownguesthouse.com) which caters for Channel swimmers.

At 3am on 2 August I set off from Samphire Hoe. The sea was rough, but forecast to calm down. I had learnt from my training to enjoy the moment and not even think about the time. The swim was completely exhilarating. Dawn broke as I entered the shipping lanes. Swimming in the vast sea, with huge ships around me, feeling safe with my fantastic support team watching out for me, was magical. I felt strong and was in my element.

After about 12 hours the atmosphere changed. I was being swept north, away from the French coast, by the strong tidal current. I dug deep and sprinted for the next 90 minutes, drawing on all my hard training.

At last I broke through the tide but I was exhausted. I recalled reports of swimmers pulled out at this point. I was close to the coast but not there yet. My mind was still clear but my body was so tired. My support crew were fantastic, shouting encouragement non-stop. I looked desperately toward the beach, willing it to get nearer. Eventually I felt sand beneath my feet and realised that I had made it. This was the French beach and all I had to do was walk up it. A French couple, out for a stroll, cheered me in, but all I could manage in response was a wan smile as I tried to stand up proudly as a Channel Swimmer: Sarah Taylor, England to France 2 August 2010; time 16 hours and 49 minutes.

SwimTrek Swimming Adventure Holidays (swimtrek.com). English Channel Swimming and Piloting Federation (channelswimming.net)

Sarah lives in King's Lynn

The judge: Guardian travel writer Kevin Rushby said: "I like its simplicity and how in a few words she conveys what it's like to do the Channel."

The prize: A trip to Quebec for two people for a week, including whale watching, kayaking and a night in a prospector's tent, with Frontier Canada (frontier-canada.co.uk) and Quebec Tourism (bonjourquebec.co.uk), flights and car hire.

THE RUNNERS-UP

Monkish ways in China

I heard about Wu Wei Si monastery from another traveller at the start of my trip in China. He told me it was located in the mountains in Dali, and you were able to live there with the monks and learn tai chi and kung fu.

I arrived at nightfall and wandered around the grounds until I spotted a monk strolling down a narrow path. He beckoned me into the monastery and handed me a sheet of paper which, by torchlight, I could see was a list of rules. The list was endless, but there was one which stood out: Don't walk in sandals – tell someone if you go for a walk as there could be snakes, wolves or bears around.

I stirred at 5.30am to the chants and prayers of the monks, then joined them for a run down the mountain, the radiant colours of the sky changing as the sun rose over the valley. We walked back up attempting to balance large rocks on our heads. After breakfast began three hours of tai chi and kung fu practice in the courtyard, led by younger monks, who found our inflexibilities and moans amusing.

After a week in this monastery, I had so much respect for monks who have devoted their lives to Buddhism. They take just £30 a week from travellers who eat, train and live with them. This is a great experience for people wishing to get a glimpse into the life of a monk.

Corina Priestley, Eastbourne

Colombian progress

I walk down the dusty, rocky road towards the small town of Puracé, past small houses with geraniums in recycled paint tins hanging in front porches and neat stacks of logs beside homespun gardens. The clean smell of pine trees mingles with smoke drifting from the tin flues of wood-burning stoves. All around are steep slopes with hedges, eucalyptus trees and cows grazing in homely pastures. I share the road with men and women carrying shovels and machetes, going to work in fields of potatoes, maize and beans.

Walking into Puracé I see FARC daubed on a wall – the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, is the guerilla organisation which claims to represent the rural poor. But I am greeted with a courteous "buenos dias, señor," making me feel accepted and comfortable. Clouded yellows and other butterflies flit among the flowers, and I walk, untroubled, down the steep street, past pantiled colonial houses.

I see a sign reading Residencias Cubita, walk up through a door and soon have a room for the night. A clean, functional and commodious room with table, chair, settee and bed with thick blankets. In the courtyard outside two men have removed the engine from an old 4WD Toyota and are repairing the crankshaft.

On one of the hills overlooking the town is a white cross. I've been reading John Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress, and in my imagination Residencias Cubita could have been Mr Gaius's pilgrims' inn, where Christiana and her children, together with Greatheart, Mercy and Mr Honest, rested on their journey. I too am resting on my journey, contented after another day walking in the Colombian Andes.

Graham Stone, London