Malabar Magic Rainbow Club Ocean Swim: inspiring people and lots of bitey things

Malabar Bay

Yep. The red circle with the diagonal line through it was stamped on top of Malabar Beach this morning when I checked the Beachwatch website. It was the only beach in Sydney with a pollution warning. 

I took my earplugs and decided to keep my mouth shut (I just accidentally wrote 'shit' instead of 'shut') throughout the 2.4 km swim. My mouth is usually full of the proverbial so it sort of makes sense.

The day was hot and Malabar was like it always is. I think I mentioned in a post on this swim last year that sometimes you have to grow up in a suburb to love it. 

I dunno. Malabar might have four golf courses and luxury residential developments chewing up what was left of the scrubland, it might be on the coast and within cooee of Maroubra and Bondi, it might be flat and therefore good cycling territory. But it's not for me.

It's a 'sought after' suburb in real estate lingo but ... I know what it is that makes it so wrong! There's no trees. A few but not a lot. And nothing native. Now that's sorted I'll get to the swim. 

I didn't register for the 1 km swim, which I regret because my swim-squad peeps Mr Very Big and Mr Mild Mannered did. They didn't tell me (hear the accusatory/petulant tone in my voice). 

I got down to the beach as the 1 km swimmers were coming in and was privileged to see three-time Paralympian wheelchair athlete Louise Sauvage finish along with her Canadian friend (also disabled) who swam backstroke the whole course (I bet she's an elite athlete too but I didn't find out her name). 

Louise Sauvage hugs her friend after the 1 km swim

Louise's motto is: "You never know what you can achieve until you try."  

I went into the 2.4 km swim feeling chipper. Malabar is in a bay so there's no surf though there's often swell out near the headland. 

The course was straightforward. Three yellow buoys with big red balloons affixed to their tops were lined up out the back of the bay. All we had to do was swim to the first one, chuck a right, swim past the second, and then chuck another right around the third before hitting the home stretch. 

I put in my earplugs and felt odd because, you wouldn't bloody believe this, I could hear my heartbeat through the pulse on my neck! Thumpa thumpa thumpa. I'm serious. I'm seriously neurotic too. 

The swim began and my goggles fogged so I took them off and cleared them. Then they half filled. I wasn't too worried about that because I was more concerned with the earplugs. The sound in my ears was like a gargle every time I breathed and plunged my arms into the water. I couldn't hear anything else. And then there was the ingestion of much (polluted) water. It's impossible to keep your mouth shut when you're swimming. I am laughing as I write. Sometimes I am dumber than a goose. But how dumb is a goose?

Bloody Mr Very Big (or whatever I call the Irish bastard) tugged on my leg as I swam towards the second can. Then he did what he loves to do. Put on the clappers and left me for dead. He gives me the Jimmy Brits. I hope he gets an ear infection*.  Petulant, bad loser... must think of Louise Sauvage and remain inspired.

Even though the water was supposedly polluted, it was rather clear and I saw fish. Hundreds of little ones flitted beneath me so the water quality can't have been too bad.  And the temperature was glorious. Just cool enough.

I followed some bloke in a wetsuit to the finish line and beat him over it. I felt pretty good doing that because earlier in the swim he passed me. I don't know what my time is because the results aren't up yet. 

All in all, it was a lovely day and beaut swim except for the bitey things that attacked my face, arms and torso. I've written a post about bitey things before. Everyone calls them sea lice but they're not. They're either stingy bits that fall off bluebottles or something to do with jelly blubbers - I'm too lazy to look it up and I've rabbited on for long enough.  I don't know whether I'll experience their after-effects tomorrow.

Another reason why this swim is one for the calender every year is that the registration fees go to a great cause, the Rainbow Club, a charity that organises swimming lessons for kids with special needs. There are 16 clubs in NSW and two in Victoria. 

Speak soon. Precious Princess is back from Europe this week. It's gonna be a big one. 

*As my old mum would say, "That's a joke Joyce."

Warriewood to Mona Vale Ocean Swim and it's a bad back and blue bottles - in that order

I don't wish a bad back on anyone. But that's what I have as a result of a misspent youth - I won't even go there. I just thank the heavens I'm still on this planet, with my cranky back and spent brain cells, after some of the seriously stupid things I've done in my life.

Today the bad back nearly stopped me from doing the Warriewood to Mona Vale Ocean Swim. But then my brother-in-law Davo - who last night said "I probably won't do it, I'm onto my second beer, the house is a mess, the missus is at me to tidy up and look after the kids" - does a 360 and this morning proclaims, "I'm ready and raring to go." 

Initially, I decided to do the drive up to the northern beaches as his support person, but then we arrived. I sniffed the salty air and saw the surf was just right - I was a goner. 

We parked for free at Mona Vale and caught the free shuttle bus to Warriewood, where I then forked out $40 for late rego. The back/hip was a bit shaky. I knew I wouldn't be able to run in or out of the surf. The run out after the swim was going to be hard because it was a hike up the beach. More of that later. 

Conditions were perfect, until we heard the dreaded word: BLUE BOTTLES. Actually, we heard the word back at Warriewood but I don't want to interrupt the story flow 'cos I'm on a roll. So, I went up to a tall lanky surf lifesaver, who had an Irish accent, and asked, "What about the blue bottles?"

And he reassured me with that gentle Irish brogue, "There's not that many."

Mind you, he was covered head-to-toe in sun-safe gear and didn't look as though he was about to go anywhere near the water. But it was enough to put me at ease. What can I say? I'm a pushover for Irish accents.

Davo and I were directed to two huge tins of petroleum jelly and slathered the stuff all over our exposed bits. I guess the blue bottles can't get a grip if you're as slippery as an eel.    

Unfortunately, Davo got the stuff all over his goggles, which meant he spent a lot of the swim in a Vaso fog. 

Because we're old, we started in the fourth/last 'wave' with the men and women together. There were some nice waves to negotiate out to the first can, which was about 400 metres from the shore. Then we chucked a left and swam north and parallel to the beach. There was a bit of chop, which made it uncomfortable and I swallowed a little bit of water. I also swam WIDE AGAIN. When will I learn? I saw a girl with a GPS on her back and wondered what the pattern would look like if I wore one. Probably a crazy zig-zag. 

There were six bouys but I lost count (it's those spent brain cells) and got a bit confused. Towards the last leg of the swim, I also felt a faint stinging sensation on my legs. Then a support crew on a surf ski told me to swim wide of several blue bottles. On the way into shore, I was definitely stung on the right inner-arm. 

As predicted, getting out of the surf and up the beach at the end of the swim was a bugger, and easily a dozen swimmers passed me on the run to the finish line. Bags of ice were on hand for the blue bottle casualties and I gratefully took one. 

Afterwards, Davo and I realised how lucky we were when we saw lots of the younger swimmers, who went out in the first wave, with huge welts from the blue bottle stingers. 

I didn't see her, but Davo said that elite swimmer Luane Rowe, who wins many of the ocean swims, was covered in angry looking red marks from where the blue bottles had wrapped themselves around her arms and legs. Poor girl. She'll suffer over the next week when the pain evolves into a tormenting, unrelenting itch.

Today's swim was 1.6 km, but Davo reckons it felt longer. I guess I do too, but I'm always so busy trying to figure out where I am during a swim that every swim seems long, no matter what the distance! I did hear some of the punters talking about how hard it was. And the blue bottles didn't help matters.  

Let's hope these unwelcome visitors are long gone by next Sunday when we line up for the big one - Palmy to Whale.

Top photo is a view of Warriewood and bottom is Mona Vale

Woohoo! A little ripper of a swim at Manly

Ocean swimmers were spoilt for choice this weekend with Sydney events at Manly and Freshwater, and up the coast at Lake Macquarie (Saturday), Caves Beach and Coffs Harbour.

Davo and I chose the Manly Daily Ocean Swim. Let me tell you fine people from around the world who occasionally stumble across this blog, not many things compare to a sunny day at the beach in Sydney. Bliss.

The angels blew in on a north-easterly wind that teased up soft, foamy waves. There was a smattering of weed and a bluebottle warning, but we managed to avoid the nasty translucent creatures and their wispy, stinger tendrils. Whew (blueys freak me out).

As we arrived at South Steyne (Manly's southern end), the first of the 1 km swimmers were pounding up the sand to the finish line. There are more and more people doing ocean swims, with most dipping their toes into the shorter course.

We strolled north to the starting line opposite the Corso, where a much smaller group of nutters waited for the 2 km event. Davo and I were in the same wave. When the starter gun went off I followed him in but he was soon out of sight - smarty pants.

OK, here's the report in full. Because it was low tide and shallow, it took a little while to get through, under and over the white-wash waves. My cossie had collected a fair amount of weed by the time I got to the first buoy, about 800 metres offshore. This is my excuse for not beating Davo (again) this time.

Next, a right-hand turn and out to sea -sort of. That's how it felt swimming across to Fairy Bower (Manly Point?) and over the shark net that runs the length of Manly beach. How cool is that? The net is way way down and appears affixed to the ocean floor. It's not that high. That was the first swim highlight.

The second was the leg to Fairy Bower, a popular diving spot off Shelley Beach. On the reef I saw small fish (Davo saw big ones, of course). Down below, scuba divers blew air balloons that rose up to meet me. Initially, I thought the bubbles were sea creatures, some sort of jelly blubber. But then I noticed the disembodied divers' fins. Mystery solved.

I was buggered by time I rounded the last buoy, but the swell gave me a gentle nudge towards my destination.

Because I'm not a runner (I used to love it but had to stop because of a dodgy hip) the lengthy exit along the sand was annoying and other swimmers passed me.

As usual, Davo was on the beach to wave me in as I 'shuffled' the 30 or so metres to the finish line (BASTARD - I forgive you).

In summary, Davo and I have declared the Manly Daily Ocean Swim one of the best this season - a swim that challenges, enthralls and contains small surprises at every turn.

La vita e bella!