I bin away so long: weather and demented middle age take their toll on my season swims' tally

Another perfect beach. This time it's Caves Beach.

It all started, or should I say ended, on February 24 when the Bondi swim was postponed because of crazy weather and massive swells along the eastern seabord.

A week later on March 3 the Freshwater swim was put on hold, again because of lousy weather contributing to rip-laden surf conditions at around 22 Sydney beaches.

I lost my way during this swimless period, figuratively and literally, when Ms Fivestar and I thought it would be a fine idea to cruise up the coast to my first swim in two weeks on March 10.

The Caves Beach swim, near Lake Macquarie, had been postponed weeks earlier due to inclement conditions. This was the organisers' second attempt to get it right, and they were on to a winner. It was a beautiful day. 

I got to Ms Fivestar's place in Sydney's inner-west a little after 7.30am, cock sure we'd make Caves Beach well before 10am. It's supposed to take one hour and 40 minutes to get there. Like NOT.

The problems started when we turned on to the F3 at Hornsby and decided to find our own way to Caves Beach without the assistance of the GPS. My GPS has a chick's voice, and she tends to interrupt the conversation with inane comments about speed limits, road conditions, traffic hold-ups and the like. She's a bit like an annoying friend who's always butting in.

And because Ms Fivestar and I both think we know everything about everything we resent being told where to go by a disembodied voice.

That was our first mistake. The second was that I called Spanner and asked him where we should turn off. He should know because he and The Hiss often head to Belmont to sail on Lake Macquarie.

He told us to use the GPS.  Yeah, whatever.

His second suggestion was to look out for the sign: Lake Macquarie East. We zoomed past the Lake Macquarie West sign but by then we were heading for bloody Brisbane.

By the time we got back on track, after turning on the car GPS and Ms Fivestar's phone's GPS, it was around 15 minutes before the swim. We arrived at the beach at 9.59am, just before the 10am start.

I ran from the car and Ms Fivestar moved to the driver's seat. Once on the beach I could see orange buoys in the far distance. READ: FAR DISTANCE.

I approached a friendly surf life saver. We were on the wrong beach and needed to head further south. I scuttled back to the car and Ms Fivestar hit the gas. It was after 10am. I wasn't sure how many waves (starting groups, usually grouped by age) there would be so thought I might still be able to make it.

We arrived at the beach - Caves Beach - and I ran on to the sand holding on to my goggles while Ms Fivestar went to find a park.

Swimmers negotiating the shallows to get to the finish line.

But something was amiss. I could see the finish line but not the start. Another friendly surf life saver informed me the swim started further south beyond the breakwater. 

Despair and resignation mingled in my deflated heart. Too late, too late. Moan. Inner sob. Mea culpa.

I watched with longing and envy as the swim's participants negotiated their way through the shallows towards the finish line after having completed the 1.5km swim.

Not fair. Not fair. Not fair.

Then I got over myself.  

In the end, it wasn't all bad. Ms Fivestar and I had a leisurely swim in clear, 21 degree water and I got the chance to have fun in the surf without the pressure of having to 'compete'.

Afterwards, we bought a counter lunch at the Caves Beachside Hotel, an attractive steel, glass and corrugated iron structure that overlooks the beach.

Another week passed and I missed the Balmoral Beach 1km swim on March 17. This time my decision not to swim was intentional. The money raised from entries to this swim goes to a good cause - children's cancer research - but I've done the swim before and it's too much like hard work.

Too many swimmers confined to a teensy part of Balmoral makes for an uncomfortable and potentially dangerous situation. This is a harbour beach and so attracts all level of swimmer.

I find it's too crowded and too stressful. I worry about getting kicked and punched by fellow swimmers caught in the melee at the start and around the turning buoys.

And don't get me started about finding a car parking space that's not miles away- all of it up steep hills - from the beach. I heard that 1200 people participated in the swim. 

On that same day, the 9km Dee Why swim was cancelled - the 2012/13 swim season's contrary weather and its impact on the ocean has caused big headaches for swim organisers.

I'll write about North Steyne in my next post as this one is already too long.

North Steyne to Shelly Beach and back

Saturday night: Party party. I drink a cocktail and convince myself it's loaded with vitamins because somewhere mixed into a concoction of overproof spirits is a hint of passionfruit. Add to this a couple of glasses of fruity shiraz - more goodness in the form of antioxidants. 

Next, jam as many canapes down cake hole as is humanly possible (not humanely). Sausage rolls filled with real sausage, mini hamburgers, meat pies and small delicate pastries. And cake! Cream and jam-filled sponge with icing decorated with chocolate flowers. 

Fall into bed exhausted and bloated around midnight.

Sunday morning: Wake at 2.30am, guzzle down buckets of water. Fall asleep at 4.30am and wake at 8.30am.

Text Ms Fivestar: 'Am thinking of breakfast at North Steyne and maybe a swim. Wanna come?' 

Ms Fivestar says 'yes' so I drag myself into the car and pick her up. We head north over the Sydney Harbour Bridge. We are Manly-bound. 

I'm under the misguided impression the North Steyne to Shelly Beach swim starts at 10am and is 2.2 km long. "I'd love to do the swim but I reckon we'll be too late." Secretly hoping.

We arrive at the beach, find a two-hour parking space (because that's all you can get in Manly unless you live there) and stroll to South Steyne before I remember the swim is run by the North Steyne SLSC. We continue at a casual pace along the Norfolk Palm-lined promenade. I think about a hot flat white and tomatoes with salt and pepper on buttery toast.  Yum.

Turns out the swim starts at 10.30am so I have time to register. Bugger. Turns out the swim is 2.8 km and is to Shelly Beach and back. Double bugger. 

I bump into a couple of my swim squad friends and Ms Fivestar, who only ever paddles, points out that the surf break is tiny "like a pool". I am committed. 

As it turns out, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be though I was puffed by the time I turned around the yellow can at Shelly Beach. 

What's nice about this swim? 

1. It was a real community swim. It wasn't too crowded like many of the swims held at the peak of the season in January and February. 

2. My age group didn't start last. Yay. We were in the second of three waves. 

3. The surf was gentle so it was a lovely swim to the first can, which wasn't placed too far away. 

4. It involved a journey, of sorts, even though it was a circuit. We swam down the beach to South Steyne and then in to Shelly Beach before heading back.

5. If the water had been clearer, we would have been able to see the huge numbers and variety of fish that hang out in Cabbage Tree Bay.

6. I could see to the sea's sandy bottom (!) as I swam out of Cabbage Tree Bay, so even though I was a long way from the shore, it was still shallow. 

7. Because I breathe on the left I had a view of the promenade on the way back - right-side breathers would have enjoyed this picture postcard on the first half of the swim. 

8. On the way back in to shore I saw silver bream darting in the shallows. 

9. Getting out wasn't too hard and the run up the beach was reasonably short. 

10. Breakfast! There's hundreds of cafes to choose from in Manly. 

Sounds like my life is just one long hedonistic binge! Woo hoo! Tonight I am off to see The Cranberries with sister-in-law, Nurse Nice. Turns out the show was cancelled last Thursday and her hubby, who was going to go, can't make it tonight. 

I'm cramming it in! 

PS: I will write more about Precious Princess's 21st in my next post. More specifically I will focus on the gift she received from her male work colleagues. Hooley Dooley.  

PPS: Thanks to Ms Fivestar for photos taken on her iPhone. I'll load a few more later when I have a spare moment.