Swim for Saxon Ocean Swim - Queenscliff Surf Life Saving Club: dirty water, politics and OH&S

Four surf rescue craft at Queenscliff.

Saxon Bird died at the Australian Surf Life Saving Championships on the Gold Coast in March 2010. During the surf ski leg of the event a stray surf ski hit the 19-year-old. It took rescuers 55 minutes to recover his body in treacherous conditions.

This is the third year of the Swim for Saxon Ocean Swim, which honours the memory of the champion athlete who trained at Queenscliff. 

On the commemorative plaque dedicated to Saxon is a quote from TS Eliot: 

Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.

This swim was a first for me. Before today, I'd only ever walked to the far northern end of Manly Beach.  

It's a pretty stretch of sand that ends at a small headland - on the other side is Freshwater.

Manly Lagoon is located a couple of blocks back, next to the golf course. The lagoon isn't usually a problem, except after the rain when runoff flows into the sea at Queenscliff. 

The fund-raising Babe Watch is growing in number.

Sydney has copped a drenching since Wednesday. Today the clouds were still around, bunched like juicy grapes, but the big stretches of blue convinced them to drift out to sea. 

A sign at the ocean pool warned swimmers to avoid taking a dip there for at least 24 hours after the rain. I should have photographed the pool - the water was a yucky green. 

Another sign near the beach had the same message for the ocean. Its advice: wait 24 hours before diving in.

Oh well, not to worry. The organisers weren't. The mild pollution didn't stop them from going ahead with the two swims on offer - 800 metres and 1.5 kilometres. 

Other than murky water, the conditions were benign. The surf was non-existent and the water temperature a warm 23 degrees.  

I'd entered both the swims ($40 for the two), though I wasn't feeling too chipper. Back to my old wine guzzling ways the night before! 

I packed in a high carb energy bar on the drive down to the beach, hoping that would fill the tank with enough fuel for the 800 metre dash. God, I love those bars. They're so junky. This one contained cocoa powder, rice bubbles, brown rice oil and lots of other stuff that, to me, tastes like a compacted bowl of Cocoa Pops. Cocolossal!

Prior to the 800 swim, I noticed some commotion on the sand with a couple of camera crews hovering around. It dawned on me that this is the federal opposition leader's stomping ground. The northern beaches is blue ribbon Liberal territory and Tony Abbott is the hero, the man most likely to become Australia's next prime minister when the nation votes in September. And he's a member of the Queenscliff Surf Life Saving Club. It made good political sense for him to be down on the beach.

In his budgy smugglers.

I would have squatted too. Smart move Tony.

I know I've said it before, but I just love it that our high profile pollies can saunter about in almost the all-together without anyone batting an eyelid. Could you imagine Barack Obama, David Cameron, Francois Hollande or Stephen Harper running around in their swimmers? 

What about Kim Jong Un? I'd like to see the roly-poly dictator with all his milky pale flubber on display. I think it'd soften his image. Add depth. Make the guy more human and cuddly, and less like an overfed nutbag despot with an itchy trigger finger. He might belly flop into the ocean and decide all he wants to do is turn back the boats.That's what a dunkin' in the deep blue does - it gives you a new perspective on life.

Anyway, our "almost" (sorry Julia, but it's pretty much signed and sealed) Supreme Leader is down there on the sand, posing for photos with young children and pretending not to notice the cameras trained on him as he checks his goggles and adjusts his... cap. 

I took a couple of pics. I reckon the old Tone's lost tone (the Abbott has lost abs) and put on a few kilos since I last saw him strutting his stuff in the budgys about two years ago. Take a look at the little handle of chubby love above the hip. And I reckon he's sucking in his tummy. 

That's what time on the campaign trail does to you. Tony's had to throw back one too many schooners and Chiko Rolls to prove he's just an ordinary bloke who'd move to the western suburbs if he didn't have the long commute.

But enough of Tony. He did the 800 metre swim. Dunno if I beat his time. I hope I bloody well did. (He did it in 19.56, which is slow. I did it in 16.43, which is average)

What to say about the 800 metres? Murky warm water. No movement in the ocean, not even a nudge into the shore. 

No fruit or water afterwards.

I bought a red drink and sucked on one of those phlegm-like energy products that promises you an instant buzz.

The 1.5 kilometre swim took ages to start because of the five minute breaks between each wave. 

It was supposed to start at 10, but got underway at 10.15am with the youngest wave heading in first. 

My wave didn't start until 10.45am. 

Every swimmer wore an ankle timer. The organisers could have asked everyone to sign off after the swim to ensure all swimmers completed the course safely, rather than count everyone on the start line. I mean, how do you get an accurate head-count when people are milling around and changing their positions on the start line?

There were heaps of rescue people on the water. And four inflatables.

It was over the top OH&S. Totally unnecessary on a day like today. The worst that could have happened was if one of the swimming tragics (older types) had a little episode.

The second wave sprints to the shallows.

Running through the shallows.

The swim seemed longer than 1.5km but it was just me. Too much red stuff - on the day and the night before.

Because the tide was out, competitors had to run into the water through the shallows. I was mindful of the troughs and worried about twisting my ankle, which slowed me down.

I got out to the first red buoy and lost my way because I didn't have a handle on the location of the next buoy. 

I ended up, along with other swimmers, heading towards the furthest red buoy when I should have been swimming to a closer yellow buoy first. What a pain in the bum.

It was all a bit of a murky blur and the swim back to the beach wasn't helped at all by a total lack of swell. 

I went searching for water and fruit because I was sure the commentator mentioned it was available for free for competitors. But I couldn't find it.

No fruit, no water. 

Rating out of 10: 7.5

Any gripes: No fruit, no water. No nothing*.

Why the late start? And the five-minute wait between each wave wasn't necessary. Nor was the head count, which would've been unreliable anyway. Better to give us a number and call it out. That's a good idea. 

The poor water quality wasn't the fault of the organisers. It was just a shame swimmers had to compete in less than pristine conditions.  

This swim is to honour a beautiful boy who died in tragic circumstances.  I'm aware of that and understand the organisers wanting to get it right. They want everyone to be safe in this swim.

But today the conditions were calm, and at this end of the season the participants are die hards who know what to expect, especially in calm conditions. There's no need to be hypervigilant, unless it gets nasty eg: Freshwater two weeks ago. 

Next week it's the Coogee autumn swim. I've heard the swell is going to be massive by next weekend. Wait and see. 

*Apparently there was fruit and juice - I don't know how I missed it because I wandered around looking for it. My apologies to the organisers for not giving credit where credit is due.

Sausage sambos after but where was the free fruit and water?

Reflections on the Byron Bay Winter Whales Ocean Swim Classic 2012: the perfect storm

Clarke's Beach and Main Beach the day after - not so benign

What a week. I hate it when work and general lethargy get in the way of life.

A week after the Byron Bay swim's cancellation, I don't have much to say except that I 'dunnit' with Mr Very Big after the organisers told us (and 2000 other punters) not to.

The swim was cancelled last Sunday shortly before the start. Everyone was pumped and ready to go, so when the announcement was made a collective cry of disbelief could be heard at Wategos Beach.

A woman next to me who was about 50 but had the toned body of a 20-year-old elite athlete (jeeeeez - she had a six pack), muttered: "It's because of Kurrawa."

She was referring to the death last month of Matthew Barclay, 14, at Kurrawa Beach on the Gold Coast during the Australian Surf Life Saving Championships. In 2010, ironman Saxon Bird, 19, drowned at the same beach during the titles after being hit by a stray surf ski.

In April two Sri Lankan men drowned at the Byron Bay's Belongil Beach after they got caught in a rip.

No wonder the organisers were nervous.  Two thousand punters. That's a huge responsibility.

Apparently, numerous young competitors were hauled out of the water during the 800-metre mini-swim from Clarke's Beach to Main Beach, which takes place before the main event. 

This caused the organisers to make their last-minute decision to stop the show.

After "umming" and "ah-ing", my swimming mates Mrs Snorkel and Mrs Onyabike decided not to swim. My friend Mr Very Big had joined us on the sand. It was to be his first time and he was incredibly disappointed that he was going to miss out on what is usually an amazing swim. 

As we considered our options - you'd think there would only be one - we noticed a lot of the swimmers had ignored the organisers and were heading out towards the buoys that were still in place on the course. 

While we wriggled our toes in the sand and argued the pros and cons, a couple of hundred nutters set off before us. A sea of multi-coloured caps bobbed in the ocean like a packet of lollies being tumbled out of the pack.

"Let's do it," we said. "We'll regret it if we don't."

And the rest is history.

Thank you dear God that I am hear to tell the tale because it was a bloody wild ride. The main issues were, according to the organisers, the bombora off The Pass, which is the rocky outcrop off the point that separates Wategos from Clarke's Beach. Surfers congregate off The Pass in the hope of finding the perfect barrel.

On Sunday it was wild and the bombora was pumping. Mr Very Big and I were lucky/clever because we swam wide of The Pass. Those swimmers who attempted to cut corners and by swimming close to The Pass were smashed by the bombora onto the rock shelf. Afterwards we heard that some poor bloked cracked his head.

The swim at this point was hairy and I had to keep my head screwed on. Panic simmered around my throat. I had to keep pushing it down. 

The swell was massive. Seriously, it felt like The Perfect Storm when the fishing boat soared down the face of the mighty swell and up the other side. That's what we were doing. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. You could hear the squeals of the swimmers ahead of us as the swell came through and lifted them up. 

Mr Very Big told me later that because I was breathing to my left side, I couldn't see the big swell raising its massive paws to pounce. He breathed to his right so he could see it all. (After the swim he also revealed that he nearly shat himself on several occasions). 

Once we were around The Pass, it was pleasant for a while but I could see the shore and the waves looked pretty mean. I couldn't see them breaking, but I could see their white tops and the sea spray flying backwards. They were dumpers.

Although the swim had been cancelled, the organisers took the precaution of sending out several surf life savers to manage the eejits. They were on their surf skis guiding swimmers into the beach. We stopped and asked one for advice. "Swim straight in," he said, "because the rip will drag you along anyway."

Great. 

That was when I started to pray: "God, I know I'm dumb - I can't help it - but today could you please help me out of this mess? Could you stop the 4 metre dumpers for a minute so I can reach the beach in one piece? I'll be really nice to everyone and won't get cranky in the traffic or drive too fast when I get back to Sydney. Please God - yes, yes, I know I'm always making promises but this time I swear I'll go to church... soon."

And then a miracle occurred. There was a break between sets and I made it in without getting dumped. Admittedly, it took me a while to get my footing and the rip dragged me a fair way up the beach but I managed to finally feel the glorious sand between my toes. 

It was a wonderful feeling. 

Mr Very Big and I hugged each other because we were both relieved to be alive! 

I owe God one (well, more than one). 

PS: The swim has been rescheduled as a "fun" swim on June 3. I won't be going. No money. No time.

The dangers of the surf on the Gold Coast: the death of a young surf life saver at Kurrawa Beach

Looking towards Surfers Paradise on the Gold Coast

I am filled with admiration for the members of Surf Life Saving Australia. Their member clubs do an amazing job keeping our beaches safe and protecting recreational swimmers of all levels from the dangers of an unpredictable surf. The clubs organise the vast majority of ocean swims as fundraisers and almost all are run in a professional manner by a team of dedicated volunteers who love what they do and have a passion for all things to do with the ocean.

They're also a competitive bunch who test their skills against each other in surf life saving competitions.

 But over the past two years the biggest competition of all, the national championships, has been marred by tragedy.

In 2010 accomplished surf life saver and ironman Saxon Bird, 19, drowned at the Australian Surf Life Saving Championships which are held annually at Kurrawa Beach on the Gold Goast.    

And just yesterday, 14-year-old Matthew Barclay, competing in the Under-15 board event at the 2012 championships, went missing in the surf on that same beach. His body was found this morning.

Here's a link to a recent story:

http://www.smh.com.au/queensland/heartbreak-and-inquiries-after-death-of--great-kid-20120328-1vyrc.html

At the inquest into Saxon Bird's death there were calls to move the championships away from Kurrawa Beach. This didn't happen.

Is it right to play the blame game with the loss of another young life? I don't know. And I don't know enough about the circumstances surrounding Matthew Barclay's death to make an informed comment.

I did an ocean swim at Burleigh Heads on the Gold Coast in late 2011 and was surprised at the 'sweep' or current that dragged swimmers north towards Kurrawa. The swim I did started at 7.30am before the swell picked up and conditions became hairy. Gold Coast beaches are, for the most part, one continuous stretch of coast fully exposed to the elements.

In the news story in the link, someone said: "The statistics show this is an extraordinary run of bad fortune."

Try to explain that to Matthew Barclay's family. 

Burleigh Ocean swim coming soon: too much beach is never enough

The view to Tallebudgera surf beach from Burleigh Heads National Park. As we walked down the hill we saw sting rays swimming in the shallow surf.

Walking back from Broad Beach. This man was probably fishing for bream.

View of Surfer's Paradise from Burleigh Heads National Park. The sand is white and fine but check out the black volcanic rock.

View with a room: looking left to Surfer's Paradise

Then turn right to Burleigh Heads

I'll write about the Burleigh Heads swim in the next post. In the meantime, here are some photos to whet your appetite. When you look at these pics, you'll wonder why Australians whinge (and we do - about anything and everything). THERE IS NOTHING TO WHINGE ABOUT. EXCEPT THERE'S TOO MUCH BEACH. TOO MUCH SURF. IT GOES ON AND ON AND ON.

The end is in 5 billion years so let's swim

I heard an astronomer talking on the radio yesterday. He said Planet Earth would "evaporate" in 5 billion years when the sun finally petered out - but not before exploding in a spectacular fashion to take us with it.

Of course, I won't be around in 5 billion years. That's ridiculous. That's like, way beyond my pea-brain comprehension. But my guess is that we will have nuked our poor old abused planet well before its natural use-by-date.

Oddly enough, the thought of there one day not being anything made me feel really sad. So I booked a flight to the Gold Coast.

There are lots of ocean swims in incredible locations coming up in the next few months. I couldn't afford the Hamilton or Heron Island swims on the Great Barrier Reef. For the cost of the airfares, accommodation, etc... to get to those locations I could fly to the States and back on a seven day holiday package. And have money to spare.

The other value for money option was the swim at Burleigh Heads on the Gold Coast on October 23. It's a 2km swim along a lovely stretch of Queensland coastline.  Airfares to the Gold Coast are reasonably priced and there's loads of great accommodation that won't break the bank.

I know you can't beat the reef but this isn't half bad.

Find out more about the swim at: http://www.oceanswims.com/Events.asp?EventID=13

or go to the Burleigh Heads Mowbray Park Surf Life Saving Club's website at: http://www.burleighslsc.com.au/

I feel better now. Or I will soon. Possibly. But the 5 billion years is a killer. I won't dwell on it. I'll focus on sun, surf and sand... but not sand that gets into the crotch of your cossies or blows into your eyes. I want golden sand that doesn't move and isn't too hot underfoot... 5 billion years...

 

Shark alert for 2010: Australian Russell Mulcahy to direct Bait in 3D

I love a good shark movie.

And now it looks like Australia will have its very own Jaws, with Russell Mulcahy about to direct a 3D movie starring one of the planet's most feared and loathed creatures.

According to a newspaper report, the film is set on the Gold Coast, a glitzy coastal tourist strip in Queensland. But the sharks aren't nibbling people's vitals while they splash about in the Pacific Ocean.

Mulcahy has ratcheted up the scream-o-meter by complicating the premise with a crazed bandit, a natural disaster and a claustrophobic setting.

In Bait in 3D shoppers and tourists are terrorised, not only by an armed maniac, but also a posse of ravenous tiger sharks washed into an underground supermarket carpark after a tsunami.

Some of you might remember one of Mulcahy's first movies, Razorback, the story of a feral pig that (from memory - I'm too lazy to Google it) terrorises an Australian outback community. I saw it at the cinema in the '70s and had a giggle as the giant pig with the serrated back tore through the undergrowth in pursuit of its human prey.

Bait in 3D sounds far more terrifying than a li'l ol' pig with anger-management issues.

I await its release with baited breath.