Byron Bay Ocean Swim Classic: we're heading north

Canned last year but fingers crossed for 2013.

Today I'm off to Byron Bay for the Winter Whales ocean swim with Mr and Mrs Snorkel. Ms Onyabike will join us tomorrow as she has taken up study again after a 30 year hiatus and has a major assignment due today.

I mean, why would you put yourself through that? I'm sure there are more fulfilling pastimes to ward off dementia. Like swimming?

(Note to self: drink less and start doing crosswords)

This will be our sixth annual pilgrimage to BB for this destination/journey swim from Wategos to Main Beach.

Last year's swim was cancelled but I did it anyway.

I re-read my account of that exhilarating yet terrifiying experience.  I might just be a little bit unhinged.

Here's the link to that post, if you can be bothered.

http://tinyurl.com/clpf9dw

Hopefully, this year's conditions will be more forgiving though BB is displaying its usual quixotic nature - I hear it's going to be partly cloudy, possibly raining and partly sunny.

Who knows?

Life's a lottery.  And don't believe Hot Chocolate - Everyone's NOT a winner.

Let's catch up next week.

Four seasons in one day: The Byron Bay Ocean Swim Classic 2011 (with brief reference to snoring)



A gouge in the sand: the result of torrential rain and rough seas

 Rain. Rain. And more rain. Truckloads of it, accompanied by blinding camera-flashes of lightning and cracking thunder. This was Byron Bay on Friday night.

When Ms Onyabike and I met up with the well-informed Mr and Mrs Snorkel, they told us the swim's organisers were worried about Sunday. Huge swells were predicted, with waves up to four metres. In surfer terms that's "gnarly". For me it's plain scary. 

On Saturday morning, I joined the end of the traditional conga line of swimmers who stroll up to The Pass, a rocky outcrop at the southern end of Clarkes Beach, to swim back to the surf club on Main Beach.

It wasn't the most pleasant of swims. Although the water was warm, it was murky green and I was alone for the journey, apart from a brief encounter with the real (deadset) Thor who, after a chat about the crap weather, sprinted away never to be seen again. Story of my life. 


On the beach at the Byron Bay Ocean Swim Classic



Later that day, the Snorkels and I moaned at Ms Onyabike. We'd been coming to Byron for four years and it had never been this bad - rough surf, intermittent rain squalls and brisk winds. We blamed her for this meteorological abnormality.

Fortunately, Ms Onyabike sent out good vibes (it must have been her high-frequency snoring, which brings tears to the eyes) and the clouds parted on Sunday morning to reveal a glorious blue sky.

One of the fun things about the Byron swim is getting on the bus, in our cossies, at Main Beach with other swimmers (we're herded onto the old codgers' bus, though we're sure we look much younger). The bus drops us at the swim's starting point - Wategos Beach.

Another fun thing is not starting last. With the Byron swim, the older age groups go off before the younger swimmers and the elite SuperFish. For me, this is wonderful because there are still spectators on the beach when I toddle out of the water at the end of the swim. And I get to see the elite swimmers finish.   

Back to the start - I was relieved to make it through the surf and to the first buoy without too much trouble. But from then on it was a hike. The surf was pumping at The Pass, so the swell rose and fell in grand sweeps as I tried to push through it like a worm trying to burrow into clay. The water was eerily opaque in contrast to previous years, where its  crystal clarity allowed swimmers to ogle turtles, stingrays and schools of fish.   


Running out of the surf at Main Beach after the swim 



I managed to avoid getting dumped on the way in, but a powerful north-running current almost ripped my legs off when I stood up and tried to wade across the sandbank towards the finish line. 



Mr Snorkle was there waving me in, having pulled out of the swim after feeling that his heart just wasn't in it. Aren't men funny?



Mrs Snorkel and Ms Onyabike were there, too, but they swam using 'swimming aids' - goggles, snorkels and fins. Am I big noting? 



It's my blog. 

Afterwards, we kept our bragging to the mimimum because we didn't want to upset Mr Snorkel. No jokes were made at his expense. We didn't question his masculinity, fitness or mental stamina to complete such an arduous swim. Nope. We're bigger than that.

      

Next year the Byron Bay Ocean Swim Classic celebrates its 25th year. We'll be back.

Byron Bay Winter Whales Ocean Swim Classic 2011: pics first and then the report

I don't have time to write my report of the swim - I'll get to that tomorrow night - but in the meantime I thought I'd make you jealous by posting some photos of our fourth Bryon Bay ocean swim adventure tour.

Wategos at sunset

Clarkes Beach and the rainbow's end

The Pass

Aaah, this takes me back...

Byron Bay Winter Whales Ocean Swim Classic 2010

The pics say it all really. The Byron Bay Winter Whales Ocean Swim Classic is my favourite of all the ocean swims. My daughter Miss Hissy has a favourite word, which sums up the swim and location - SUBLIME (definition: majestic. Of high spiritual, moral or intellectual worth).

The locals say Byron has gone to the dogs because it's become such a tourist town. But I love it. When I arrive at Main Beach, I feel the release of tension in my neck and back. It's beautiful (the beach and the release of tension).

And the place still has a chilled-out hippy vibe, despite its gentrification. Backpackers and ferals cohabit with baby boomers, who haul their long boards up to The Pass in an attempt to rekindle their youth.

Also, over the first weekend in May the place is chock-a-block with ocean swimmers from as far south as the Mornington Peninsula. They're a weird lot, mostly older (once you hit 40 there's nothing better to do) and totally addicted to the sport. On the Friday, Saturday and Monday morning at 8am over 100 of their ilk gather at Main Beach and snake around to The Pass, just to swim back again. As if the swim on the Sunday isn't enough.

THE SWIM: Just before the 2.2 km swim started from Wategos on Sunday, we spotted two dolphins doing synchronised surfing off the break at The Pass, and during the swim my friend Mrs Snorkel saw four turtles (that's because she cheats and wears fins, snorkel and big fat goggles).

The course takes you out from Wategos, around The Pass and along Main Beach to the surf club, which is easy to see as a row of conifers act as markers. It's a dream course because you can have a good squizz while you swim, and still maintain your stroke. A bonus is the current that gives you a helpful nudge. The big, round orange buoys are easy to spot and, because the older swimmers start before the younger swimmers, which is unusual in an ocean swim, you are never alone.

The water wasn't its usual crystal clear this year as the swell churned up sand from the ocean floor. But you still get to see plenty of fish because it's reasonably shallow all the way.

I and the 2300 or so other punters had a bliss bomb of a weekend.

If only life was like this 24/7.

Pic 1 is at sunset looking towrds The Pass and the lighthouse; pic 2 was taken at The Pass looking out to Mt Warning; pic 3 was taken at the finish line on Main Beach by my friend Ms Five Star. I was still out with the mob, struggling to keep up and regretting several glasses of Pinot Noir consumed the night before the swim.

Playing with fire at Wategos Beach

I will return to the romance writing diary, but just to break it up I thought I'd throw in some pics of fire jugglers I snapped at Wategos Beach in Byron Bay in May.

They were hired to perform for a wedding party being held at the exclusive hotel Rae's on Watego's, which reminds me a bit of Hotel California - arches, columns and palm trees.

Anyway, lucky Mrs Snorkel and me just happened to be walking back to our budget hotel from a magnificent swim. Cossies still damp and towels around our waists, we witnessed the fire jugglers' amazing performance in front of a fully frocked-up audience.

Orstraileeeea! Where budget meets big money and no one bats an eyelid