Surfmuppet gets there early through all the lashing rain thinking what kind of disease will be the most prevalent amongst the cadre of swimmers out this dreary November day when the rest of the citizenry of Sydney are coddled up in their lovenests with this nearests and dearests, reading the sunday papers and munching on chocolate croissants.
Well too bad, bludging Sydney burghers, you’re missing out on a 2.5km traipse across murky green harbour soup, complete with jelly fish and other slimey creatures and a pinch of bull shark menace thrown-in.
Buy an event t-shirt for a gay friend who lives in Europe.Soon there’ll be a string of inquiries to the australian tourist board about the new swinging gay holiday resort in the middle of Sydney Harbour, cock-or-two island.
Crowd slowly starts to build past 8am and all sit around watching the warm up of the water gods in the dawn fraser pool.
SM clocks the lap times on the iPhone and the gods are warming up with 35-40 second laps – and they duly lap up the prizes at the prize giving ceremony after the race.
Meet up with the taxman and the journo as the black hat wave, 46-54 year olds move along the pontoon and jump into the water.
Siren goes and the pack is off in an instant.Organisers have the waves going within five minutes of each other due to a strict time window to avoid swimmers being chopped up in the propellers of the harbour ferries. Time for the old slap, bang, crash of the masses jockeying for clear water and crawling all over each other in the melee. Moored yachts slide past as the muppet tries to avoid getting his skull split open by swimming into the sharp end of the hulls.
Soon it’s out into the harbour and belting away towards the silhouette of the big crane on the eastern side of the island. Just as the black hat peleton reaches there, white hats of the young guns wave catch up, mowing down alike the black hats and the backmarkers of the green hat wave .
Up along the side of the island now.
Lots of rocks and concrete to the left.
Harbour vistas to the right.
Next a sharp left just prior to the ferry jetty and the mob is swimming through some type of tunnel. Breathing to the left there’s a bunch of thick power cables running down the wall and under the water. 415V electric eels if the sparkies haven’t done the installation work properly. Up to now the weather has behaved itself but the heavens open up just after the tunnel.
There’s something great about swimming in the rain, nevermind singing in the rain.
Cue Gene Kelly “Singin in the Rain”, (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1ZYhVpdXbQ) in googles and Speedos, bubbling away underwater, step dancing with a set of aluminium flippers.
Some doper must have had his entire crystal meth laboratory washed into the harbour for now the muppet is starting to hallucinate a tad.
The weather takes care of that bit of frippery by whipping up a fair bit of chop as the mob swings around the western tip of the island and it’s “swim for your lives, boys, the black rose she’s a sinking!!!”
Soon it’s the home straight back across the Parramatta River and onto the jetty to be hauled out of the water by willing hands.
Some codger from the 55 plus gang ( yellow hats mixed in with the black hats) decides to take on the muppet about 300 metres out from the finish.
Tries to slide past just when SM is throttling back and taking it steady to the end.
Cheek of the dog!
Fair play to him, he’s giving it his best…but it ain’t good enough…har, har
Muppet matches him stroke for stroke and gradually winds the power up and the hound starts to slip behind. coming up to the pontoon, an extra special burst puts the canine interloper firmly back in his box to lick his wounds…or whatever else.
Speaking of interlopers, surfmuppet had a to-do with the pair of Mynah birds in the Domain on Wednesday morning after squad in the ABC pool.It was a tough session, anaerobic sets to get the heartrate up and the puke a-rumbling in the stomach. Coach Charm whipping and lashing as the time intervals decreased and the tickers were jumping in the chests.Shave, shower, change for work, couple of minutes by the car eating breakfast prepped the night before.
Beady eyed ranger zipping past looking to book anyone who’s parking meter has run out but the glare from the muppet sends him packing.
Pair of Mynah birds arrive and contemplate the breakfast being snaffled.
One alights on the ground, searching for crumbs fallen from the improvised table of the diner.The other lands on the raised boot of the great white (new car, hybrid, great for sneaking up behind people when running on battery), at eye level with the muppet, about a foot away.
Francis of Assisi moment.
The serenity of the Domain trees, Wooloomooloo Bay, Warship 153 graceful in her moorings across the water from the pool, the endorphins from the training session, the food…all is well with the world.
Mynah number 1 cocks it’s little head and the muppet thinks, “ah, he’s trying to communicate” followed in a flash the projection into a future earning millions as a modern day Doctor Dolittle, talking to the animals, being on Oprah and a star in Hollywood.
Mynah and Muppet eyeball each other in this moment of interspecies harmony…and then the little fucker unleashes a stream of white-grey bird shit down into the boot all over carefully laid out to dry towel, speedos, goggles etc, etc.
Mynah cockroach bird zips away just in time to avoid impalement by breakfast fork.
His crumbs-on-ground hunting buddy proves equally nimble in avoiding a size 11 shoe up the clacker.Couple of lady joggers stand back aghast at the torrent of swearing and bird squashing antics and quickly cross to the other side of the road.
Francis of Assisi moment over.
Triage of the befouled swim gear in the boot.
Fire up the great white and slide silently out of the Domain.
Watching out for Mynahs to run over.