Swimming in the ocean in winter

I'm not happy when it's cold. I'm talking Sydney cold. But what do I have to complain about? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Europe and all those really cold places in the general vicinity are hell in winter. For goodness sake, people die from the cold in places like Russia.

Still, I love to whinge. It's in my genetic makeup. I'm a bloody Aussie whinger. Particularly when the temperature drops below 20 degrees Celcius. Particularly when I've just registered for an ocean swim at Mona Vale on Sunday, June 20, the day before the winter solstice, which is the shortest day of the year.

The water is a chilly 19 degrees. I'm used to an indoor pool heated to around 25 degrees.

I've gone soft.

It's the heart of winter in Sydney and I'm going to swim in the ocean without a wetsuit. Almost naked (except for the skimpy cossie). I AM AS MAD AS A CUT SNAKE.

Brrrrrrrr...

Let's see what happens on Sunday. Stay tuned.

And they say ocean swimming makes you look younger: Malabar to Little Bay

I can't remember who told me that (see headline) but I bet it was some cocky bastard who swims faster than me. And today that was almost everyone.

It's about 10 hours since I struggled through the Malabar to Little Bay Stockland Challenge. I feel like an old ship wreck - crusty, rusty and full of salt water.

I've got a cold (that's my excuse this time) so that didn't help.

But the conditions in the Tasman Sea (Hello New Zealand) were choppier than a slicer dicer. It was uncomfortable all the way and I had trouble spotting the small, orange, conical buoys, which were supposed to keep the swimmers on course.

It looked calm from the shore. Little Bay is a pretty spot and I'd like to go back there with a snorkel and fins to check out the reef.

Up the hill from the beach (one of the few undulations in a flat and arid south-east Sydney) there's a huge Landcom/Stockland medium density housing development on the land once occupied by Prince Henry Hospital. If Davo and I do the swim again next year, there'll be nowhere to park because today we rolled into a sandy, vacant lot earmarked for development.

It was stinking hot, but the vibe was fun where the swim started at Long Bay/Malabar (better known for its maxium security correction centre). Talking of suburbs and reputations, Malabar used to be the exit point for much of Sydney's virtually untreated sewage.

I remember how it used to smell - like shit - because my mum and dad's card-playing friends, Merle and Vic, lived nearby in a house with a lilac coloured bathroom that had a fluffy mauve toilet seat and a toilet-roll dolly. As a child, I adored that bathroom.

Sadly, M and V are long gone, but these days the site at Malabar apparently 'treats and discharges' the sewage via 'deep ocean outfalls'. The Malabar outfall is 3.6 km out to sea.

Mmm...

But back to the swim. It was difficult and tiring. The first 1 km out from Malabar beach past three well-placed buoys seemed to take forever as the swell rose and then fell away sharply. I felt like a cork bobbing in a bowl of water.

I thought the right-hand turn at the headland, which is home to a golf course, would make things easier.

I was wrong. The swell became even more of an impediment to progress. It was hard to see the buoys so I had to focus on the splashing arms of those swimmers in front of me. When I wasn't swallowing water I had my head up, and had to stop a lot to get my bearings (you think I'd learn).

I was happy when it was over.

Will I do it next year? Now I say 'no'. But ocean swimming is like childbirth, after a while the memory of the pain recedes. And then you go and do it again.

An ocean swim in Sydney in the middle of winter is for mugs only

It's been miserable in Sydney over the past few weeks. Rain, drizzle and blustery winds. Who'd wanna live here?

So, to even consider an ocean swim at this time of year is foolhardy.

But that's what I'm doing. The Cold Water Classic, a 1.2 kilometre swim at Mona Vale beach, is on June 21 - and I'm thinking of entering.

The organisers have done the right thing and divided the categories into naked and wetties. By naked they mean cossies/togs/swimmers (but you all knew that). Wetties means wetsuits.

My mad brother-in-law, Davo, is going 'naked' a la budgie smugglers.

The water temperature is currently 18 degrees Celsius. I do my laps in pools around 25 degrees.

In Australia, June 21 is the winter solstice and the shortest day of the year.

Brrrr!

(Watch me talk my way out of this one!)

To freeze or not to freeze, that is the question.

Anyone got a spare wettie?

When the ocean swims season ends Byron Bay beckons

Memories of Byron Bay light the corners of my mind... Corny, but when you've done a life-affirming swim in paradise it stays with you and carries you through the Sydney autumn and winter to the next ocean swims season.

As I walk through the bum-end of the CBD to work, past the smokers crowded like sewer rats on the grimy pavement and with the stench from the garbage truck emptying bins along Pitt Street assaulting my nostrils, I dream of Byron.

Ahhhhhhh... that's better. For a bit.

By July, I'm back to my grumpy, intolerant self. It's not pretty.

To ease the pain, I visit the best website in the world for ocean-swimming nuts http://www.oceanswims.com/, which I've mentioned on many occasions.

Last time I was there (geez, I think it might have been yesterday) I scrolled through the photo gallery that features the 2009 Byron Bay Winter Whales Ocean Classic.

And guess what I found? Pics of me and my friend Mrs Snorkel.

What most amazes me, apart from my god-awful stroke and saggy bottom, is the water. Pure, clear and clean. Look at the legs floating out of Mrs Snorkel's frame! Beautiful, surreal.

Mrs Snorkel and me ambling in the sea.

Byron Bay Winter Whales Ocean Swim Classic is a ripper of a swim

Byron Bay, how do I love thee? Let me count just three ways, though there are so many more.

1. Pristine beach 2. Gentle surf

3. Water temperature around 21 degrees Celsius.

This ocean swims' season I have endured Perfect Storm conditions at Mollymook, Antarctic conditions at Bondi (water temp of 16 degrees) and battled pounding surf during The Big Swim from Palm Beach to Whale Beach.

As far as I'm concerned, Byron Bay is the ultimate ocean swim.

My first experience of this 2.2 kilometre swim was last year when I did it with my friend Mrs Snorkel and youngest daughter Miss Hissy (she did the 800 metre event).

We had no preconceptions or expectations about Byron Bay or the event. But after two incredible fun-filled days and the perfect swim we were blown away and made a pact to return in 2009.

This year the swim team comprised Mr and Mrs Snorkel, my eldest daughter Petulant Princess (PP), who is a lapsed swimmer, and moi.

In the three days leading to the swim the weather was as moody as PP, and when I woke this morning at 7am it was rainy, chilly and didn't look like clearing.

After registering at the surf club at 8.30am we piled into one of the many buses that wound around the hillside to drop us at the starting point at Wategoes beach (haunt of the megarich -but not today).

Unlike other ocean swims, Winter Whales starts back-to-front, with the oldest competitors leaving first and the elite swimmers going last.

When the horn blew for my wave (45-49 year-old women) the sun peeked out from behind ominous clouds.

Another unique thing about the swim is that to reach the first buoy we had to first stride through the shallows, swim briefly across a deeper trough then struggle up and over another sandbank before finally hitting deep water. I was exhausted already!

But once I got into a rhythm the swim was a dream. The water was clear so I could see to the bottom all the way. Mrs Snorkel and PP later said they saw huge stingrays and schools of sand whiting.

My arms cut through the water like scissors through silk. It was that smooth and sensual.

Another wonderful thing about Winter Whales is the strong north-flowing current that gives you a helpful ride all the way along the beach. If the event was run in the opposite direction, from Byron to Wategoes, the powerful drag would keep swimmers like me glued to the spot.

The swim was over too soon. And now I'm back home contemplating another week of work and all those chores I left behind.

Reality sucks. As the ocean swims season drifts to a close, I can only dream of swims like Byron and plan for 2010.

Bamoral Beach is a slice of heaven

If I had a spare $20 million I might consider putting down roots in Balmoral, the sunkissed harbourside playground of the mega-rich on Sydney's North Shore.

Geez, it's noice. Sparkling harbour views, calm European-style water (ie: flat) but with lovely Aussie sand, lots of cafes and great coffee.

Each year the locals hold the Balmoral Swim for the Children's Cancer Institute Australia. It's a one kilometre swim, which is fine by me. Most of the hardcore ocean swimmers head to the longer swim at South West Rocks on the Mid North Coast, which coincides with the Sydney event.

But not the Mighty Davo and I. We are sort of old and sort of feeble (I hurt my back last week and he broke his foot) so the shorter event was the go. Also, Balmoral is closer to home and an easy Sunday morning drive. Davo's son (my nephew), Little Prince, tagged along for the 250 metre kiddies' swim.

Suffice to say, they do things in a very civilised fashion at Balmoral. A lovely woman, a *Mosman-type, gave me my cap, number and ankle-timer thingy.

After a faulty start just after 10am, where about 30 male competitors had to be stopped and marshalled back to the beach, the swim was as smooth as a Mosman yummy mummy's botoxed forehead.

I'm thrilled to say I was with the peloton all the way! No hanging about wondering where everyone had gone - which is usually way ahead of moi.

The water was a linger-longer temperature and the swim was a comfortable length. Mighty Davo said he was kicked in the face and had to endure much macho male behaviour, but the 40-49-year-old women were all well behaved.

Apart from the usual scuffle upon entering the water, it was all rather jolly good fun!

God, on days like this I love Sydney.

*Sydney is divided into tribes and there is a definite Mosman look (Mosman is the suburb at the top of the hill, which enviously overlooks Balmoral). She was perfectly made up with the hair sprayed into place, the manicured red nails were definitely not glue-ons and she wore a silk blouse and pressed linen trousers. I didn't look at her feet, but I bet the sandals were patent leather and her toenails varnished a matching red.

It's not fair when the winner takes all in an ocean swim

I have come to accept there are other constants in life apart from death and taxes. One of these is that I will never win a place in my age group in an ocean swim (or even get near it).

I've checked out my peers who, no doubt, will swim until they've got one foot in a watery grave.

They are naturals, born to swim, and they deserve to take away the trophy, towel or other modest age-category prize awarded them by swim organisers.

Then there is a small group of swimmers that competes in the 'elite' category for the big prizes. Some of the larger ocean swims on the Sydney circuit offer lucrative prizes to the elite place getters, such as $1000 or the cost of travel, accommodation and entry to ocean swims in Hawaii, Fiji and Vanuatu.

I don't begrudge these swimmers their just rewards. They train hard and are the best in a highly-talented field.

What riles me me is their double dipping. Several ocean swims in Sydney have recently introduced a 1km swim to augment the 2km event. The shorter swim also comes with a desirable prize pool.

The elite swimmers enter both events and, of course, win both prizes. When interviewed by organisers after the 1km swim, they say "it's a warm up" as they walk away with the jackpot.

I say it's a rip off. If the 1km swim is just a doddle for the elite swimmers to prepare for the main event, I reckon they should donate their prize to an entrant who is not registered as an elite swimmer and who is entered in the 1km swim only.

Ocean swims are touted as community events, but the elite swimmers see them as an opportunity to flout 'the winner takes all' principle (thanks ABBA).

It's not right, it's not fair and it's not the Australian way!

(Photo: Petulant Princess captured in frame at the height of her ocean swimming career in 2007 by http://www.oceanswims.com/)

North Bondi: the big chill

As bushfires blazed across Victoria, the sun shone benignly over Australia's most celebrated strip of sand on Sunday, February 8, as a record number of entrants (around 1700) rolled up for the North Bondi Classics 1km and 2km ocean swims.

The unfolding tragedy was a world away. Earlier that morning I was mildly surprised to learn that 14 people had died in the wild fires that continued to burn furiously around the Gippsland region. By the time my swimming mate (my brother-in-law aka Davo) and I were down on the beach getting our timers and caps that number had risen to 25.

It's hard to consider the rest of the world and other people's dreadful misfortunes when it's another perfect day in Sydney. The sky was a cloudless blue, a light breeze tempered the promised 34 degrees celcius and the ocean was as flat as a pond and crystal clear.

But then I stuck my toe in the water. Friggin' friggin' - the temperature was 16 degrees. That's the sort of cold that makes your eyes ache, freezes your brain and numbs your vital bits. The summer water temperature in Sydney is supposed to hover around 22 degrees.

How on earth can it be this cold when the air temperature is stinking hot? It's got something to do with currents - the same thing happened over Christmas in 2007 when the water temperature along the NSW east coast dropped to 15 degrees.

I did the usual rant: "I don't think I can do this... I am used to swimming in a heated pool... I am a wimp... I am almost an old woman..."

But Davo was more worried about missing out on a Surf Dive 'N' Ski bag filled with freebies that swimmers collected after they finished the event. I think he counted all the bags and worked out that we'd have to be in the first 800 swimmers over the line.

I knew there was no way I'd get a bag... or a piece of fruit.

A minute's silence was observed for the victims of the bushfires before the 9am 1km event. At 10.30am the 2km swim started and my wave entered the pool (there was not a jot of surf) at around 10.42am.

Once I recovered from the breath-sucking shock of being entrapped in an ice flow the swim was an absolute joy. My goggles kept filling and fogging up, which were minor problems, but I was still able to see the reef just near the North Bondi ocean swimming pool as my peloton churned up the frosty water in the race towards the first buoy.

I could clearly see my arms and hands - pale and ghost-like - and I could look left, right and forwards and see the arms, legs and torsos of swimmers around me. We were a swirling sea of bodies.

And the bottom of the ocean! It was deep but I could still see all the way down. It was thrilling. I think I spent too much time admiring the scenery because, as usual, I trotted over the finish line in the bottom third of the pack. Excuses, excuses.

Afterwards I was freezing. My teeth chattered and my knees knocked. I saw several swimmers who had succumbed to the cold wrapped in foil, one with an oxygen mask.

It took me at least an hour to thaw out.

Later that day I heard on the news that the death toll in Victoria had risen to over 60.

Today it's around 166 and there's talk that figure could jump to 200.

There are no words.