Showing posts with label Newport. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Newport. Show all posts

Sunday, 13 January 2013

North Bondi Roughwater Ocean Swim 2013: a tale of leaky goggles, self doubt and a discourse on sharks

1. Fine sand: Between my toes. The sand at Bondi is so much finer and paler than northern beaches' sand. It's beautiful to walk on. And today wasn't so hot that it burned your toes (like last week at Newport - ouch ouch ouch). I dug my tootsies in and relished the massage.

I made sure I got to Bondi at a reasonable time, around 8.45am, because I'd registered for both the 1km and the 2km swim. This is the first time this season that I've attempted the two swims in the one event. I'd held off doing two because of the babble that goes on in my head that tells me I can't do it.

2. Self doubt: Today was the day. Why worry, you ask? I am not a contender. But the mind can be either friend or foe.

My mind said, Why can't I breathe properly? My chest is tight. I'm tired. Maybe it's a heart attack? Or stroke? Oh, god, I don't want to spend the rest of my possibly shortened life in an electric wheelchair, like the man who lives up the road and goes to the petrol station with his dog every day to get the paper with no expression on his face because he can't do expressions anymore... Blah blah blah...  

EXPLODE!

Then my feet touched the sand, I sniffed the seabreeze like a dog with its head hanging out the car window, saw the gentle surf.

My mind said, Breathe. It'll be OK. I can do this. What on earth is wrong with me? Am I a crazy person or what? 

A big crowd had already assembled on the beach. I can't count but we're looking at around 900 swimmers? Dunno. Went to my squad tent, small-talked the peeps, kitted up, drank water.



3. Leaky goggles: My well-travelled well-heeled sister recently took a tour of France and bought me a pair of flash Italian goggles, especially designed for open water swimming. I wore them last week at Newport and experienced slight leakage in the right goggle. Today, as soon as I dived into the water for the 1km, they filled with water. During the swim, I emptied them four times.

I felt so disheartened because I had to stop on each occasion - a no no in ocean swimming where every second counts. Then I saw a familiar face. It was Shark Man (so named because of the shark tattooed on his back).

He swam at the same pace as me so, because I couldn't see anything much and my eyes were stinging from the salt, I decided to stick with him. Frustratingly, I kept drifting away from him and had to claw my way back.

I found it hard to see the cans. They were the small pointy types, which I don't like at all. There was some wavy motion out the back of the shore break so it was very up and down. There were four turning cans. Anyway, I'd lost my mojo by the end of the swim. Back on the beach I met up with Shark Man who told me I kept drifting off course.

Despondent, I walked back up the beach and bumped into my lovely Heron Island Friends and the gorgeous Lady from Lawson, who often wins prizes in the old ducks' age group (my age group). I borrowed a pair of goggles from Mr Smith of the Smiths of Newtown.

I went into the 2km swim wondering if it was worth the effort. I'd tucked the goggle straps inside my cap because they were loose. I had no trouble getting out through the surf because my wave of swimmers went off in between sets.

Initially, my head played up and my body didn't want to swim. Have you ever had that experience?

My head said to my body, Why can't you swim faster than this? Everyone is getting away from you? What is wrong with you body? You are totally worn out and overused. What is that arm doing? For crying out loud, give me a break!  

The goggles filled and I almost turned back. But then something miraculous happened and my body started obeying the instructions from my head. My head decided not to worry about the goggles. My arm decided to go in to the water in one smooth motion.

I know what happened. I started to relax!

From then on, it was all a bit of fun. I swam all the way out out out to Mackenzie's Point and spotted Mr Very Big. We had a laugh (still swimming of course - never ever stop if you can help it) and he tried to pull away but I had enough energy and some in reserve. Where the frig did that come from?

I think I teetered up the sand about 30 seconds after him. I could have gone faster, if I'd really pushed it. I'm serious.

4. A discourse on sharks: Afterwards Mr Very Big, The Lawmaker and I strolled along Warners Avenue and bought takeaway coffees from Organic Republic Bakery. Noice.

We sat on the brick wall of the block of home units next door and the conversation turned, as it invariably does when you talk about ocean swimming, to sharks.

Just lately both Mr Very Big and I have had encounters with sharks at Cabbage Tree bay in Manly. My Very Big claims the shark he spotted "doing its own thing" was easily 1.5 metres long and greyish blue and mottled browns. The shark I saw that same day has now grown to over a metre long - but it was just grey. Not being Irish, I'm unable to bring my stories to life with such lyrical clarity.

The Lawmaker is a font of information. He can talk under wet cement and bombarded us with his factual knowledge of the bull shark population of Sydney Harbour.

In a nutshell: they're out there.

Next week it's back up north to hot coarse sand and local hospitality at Mona Vale.

Rating out of 10: 9
Lots of water safety. Lots of fruit - the generous Harris Farm family is now supplying the eastern suburbs' swims. The presentations got underway in quicksmart time - a gold star for that.

Any gripes: North Bondi should invest in big orange cylindrical cans. If the swell had been bigger there's no way anyone could spot the cans - even lifting and looking.

PS: After a hellish week where temperatures reached 40+, it's raining with the works. Rumbling thunder and flashes of lightning.


Sunday, 9 December 2012

Bilgola Ocean Swim 2012: a southerly causes chaos

From this...

to this.
BILGOLA is one of those swims that always springs a surprise. 

The day started with a hot sun blazing above us. I played the lonely card and convinced my youngest daughter, Miss Hissy (aka The Hiss), to accompany me on the drive to the northern beaches.

We got to the rugby field at Newport at around 9.45am and caught the courtesy bus to Bilgola beach, which is located at the bottom of a winding road. 

It's a pretty spot, rimmed by bush that protects an enclave of luxury homes from prying eyes. The beach is an arc of golden sand that stretches for 400 metres from end to end. There's a pool for laps built into the rock platform at the southern end, a first-class surf club and more recently a cafe in the car park. It's all you need!  

The Hiss registered late (I paid) and we smothered ourselves in SPF 30, not even considering the southerly that was on its way. 

In the blink of an eye, it arrived. The wind coursed in from around the corner at Newport and brought the clouds with it, at first all misty and laden with the moisture picked up on the journey north. 

Then it turned nasty. Dark and leaden, wind in a frenzy, sand stinging our calf muscles and stabbing our eyes.

The surf that initially looked quite orderly, now appeared totally confused. Slush mush. Boom crash. All over the shop.






The swim usually runs in a clockwise direction but just before it started at 11am the organisers changed the direction to anti-clockwise. I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed but it made sense because it meant we wouldn't have to swim head on into the wind. Please correct me if I'm wrong.

Anyway, this suited me because I breathe to the left. Yay. Small party in my head before the swim even started. It meant I would breathe towards the beach for part of the swim. A better view than out to sea.

The Hiss went in before me with the red cap brigade and my lot, old codgers in the green, waded in last. 

By this time, everyone entered the surf to the left of the course (towards the northern end of the beach) because we'd seen the elite swimmers, who went off first, totally stuff up. Most ran straight ahead and found themselves in a current travelling south. 

Getting in was fun. I took my time, rinsed goggles, drank in the scene. No rush. It's not like I'm gonna win anything. The women in my age group are friggin' legends. 

Once over the sand bank and into the slop it became a hard slog. At first I thought it had started to rain, but the water pelting down in big, hard drops was blowing off the top of the swell.

Several weeks ago, I'd swum in similar conditions when the southerly blew in just before the Bondi to Bronte swim. This was the same deal but I reckon today's conditions were more challenging.

One of the problems for me (and others, by the sounds of the afterswim chat in the ladies' changeroom) was that I found it hard to see the cylindrical orange buoys, even though red balloons were attached to the tops. 




At 1.5 kilometres, this is not a long swim. There were five buoys: two at the start/end and three others on the course. I couldn't see the third one, positioned near Bilgola Head to the north. The wind must have knocked it over, and the chop limited my ability to see ahead. 

The water safety paddlers did an amazing job, directing eejits like me back on course.

I lost my goggles on the way back in but that's not because of the waves. In fact, coming back in was pretty cool, with soft sudsy waves giving me the push I needed. I should have taken the goggles off and held on to them before I decided to let the wave swoosh me to the shore.

I was tired but at least I hadn't had to deal with big waves that scare the crap out of me (Stanwell Park comes to mind - fear of god waves).

I did see someone collapse after the swim - not sure what that was all about. It could've just been exhaustion. I hope they're OK.  

Afterwards, I meet The Hiss and the beach and she tells me she also lost her $28 as new Speedo goggles (bought by me). 

I do a mental calculation: $25 + $30 + $28 + $28 = $111. 

Don't worry about a thing, every little thing is gonna be all right... 

Afterwards, I ate heaps of fruit and nicked two bottles of water. It didn't add up to $111. 


A great bag of fruit...

Score out of 10: I'm giving it a 9. Unique and boutique. Friendly and fun. There were 444 participants, down by around 100 from last year. I had a squiz at the prize packs after the swim and there were a couple of nice Blackmores vitamin baskets in the mix of medals. Regular buses back to the oval after the swim.  

Any gripes? Should there be more cans? The old blokes with barrel tummies who've been in this caper forever would say "no". On behalf of the cartographically challenged, I say "yes". 


Sunday, 1 July 2012

Barrenjoey Lighthouse at Palm Beach in Sydney

Not feeling inspired to write tonight but I thought these pics I took today might be of some interest.

The whales are heading north and yesterday Spanner and Miss Hissy jumped on a whale watching boat captained by a friend and went outside the heads at Sydney Harbour. They saw around a dozen humpbacks - not all together but in pods of two and three - heading towards warmer waters. I don't blame them. It's bloody freezing in Sydney. I'd like to join them.

I don't have photos of whales because the ones taken by The Hiss aren't that impressive, even though the whales were around 25 metres from the yacht.

Instead, I've popped up the photos I took today when Spanner and I walked to Barrenjoey Lighthouse at Palm Beach.

The weather was temperamental - sunny and warm one minute, cloudy and cold the next. Invigorating.

I hope you enjoy them. I will endeavour to bring the dog back into the conversation this coming week. She's muttered wise words that need to be recorded for posterity.



Barrenjoey Lighthouse

Palm Beach left and Pittwater right
Here's a couple more to whet your appetite for the beautiful part of the world that's 40 winding kilometres from Sydney's CBD.

We saw a lot of these pretty flowers on the walk

Royal Prince Alfred Yacht Club at Newport