Fin Ahoy!

Posted on July 13, 2013 by bourkeyy

The Fin

Surfmuppet has just caught up with Fearless Fi about 75 metres north of Icebergs on the southern end of the Bondi Arc. Five laps completed, it’s about 0820 and the squad have been swimming since circa 7am.

Fi turns to the muppet and says something.

Before he can answer a large, grey triangular fin breaks the surface about 10 metres behind Fi.

Cuts through the water for a couple of milliseconds and disappears.

“What’s wrong, muppet? Cat caught your tongue?”

“Fi, a big fin has just broken the surface behind you and disasappeared. If it’s not a dolphin, we’re both f*cked”

Fi does a 180 degree pirouette which would do a prima ballerina at the Sydney Opera House proud.

“Where!!!”

“It’s gone. It was only there for a flash”

Fi shrieks and almost leaps out of the water as surfmuppet’s toe accidentally brushes against her in the bob and weave of the water.

“Aaargh. Get out of here. You’re having me on!”

“I’m not”.

Seconds pass and the only sound is of the swell breaking over the nearby sandbank.

They both look to where Evan on his kayak is shepherding the fasties out for the next lap when suddenly three black fins surface, arc and dive in and around the squad.

Dolphins!!

Fi is off racing towards a pod of the beasts who are now playing a game of hide and seek with the swimmers who have paused to share the moment.

Highlight of what has turned out to have been a horror swim for the muppet.

It’s a tale of two psychologies – last Saturday at Balmoral, 15.7 degree water, 5 hours 17 minutes, 10.25km on the Garmin. Cold at the end but with gas still left in the tank. Only reason didn’t go for the 6 hours with channel aspirant Dr Jim was a full schedule including taking clients to dinner pre the Lions game and hosting them at same.

Today, 16-17 degree water, 1 hour 45 minutes approx, 6 laps of the beach (4km tops) and the Garmin on the blink. Freezing cold (feeling way colder than last week, no idea why) and completely over it.

Floundering about in the water trying to engage the core, lift the hips, long reach and stretch, good catch of the water, engage the lats, relax, breathe, glide – might as well be learning to knit wearing boxing gloves while reading the instructions in Afrikaans.

Last week at Balmoral, moments of Zen like tranquility, such as watching the sun break over the horizon  washing all in a pale yellow light, the underwater seascape slowly revealing itself in the radiance.

Focusing on the moment, taking it one breath and each stroke at a time.

Ended up breathing bilaterally each third stroke without realizing it, cruising up and down the course between Edwards Beach in front of the Pavilion, around Rocky point and down to the baths at the southern end of Balmoral Beach.

We make one circuit up to Chinaman’s Beach but the drop in temperature in that neck of the woods decides it for the pair and it’s Hunters Bay for the rest of the session.

Dr Jim having a hard time of it with the cold but pushes through and eventually makes the 6 hours qualifying mark for his channel swim in a few months time.

Lion hearted effort.

The guy has gone numb with the cold at several stages but just keeps on slogging it out. His wife turns up on a kayak to escort him (and the lurking muppet) and swaps out with a friend every couple of laps.

Susceptibility to the cold may have had something to do with the duck grease he and some of the squad basted themselves in prior to the start – just thinking.

A case of dead duck revenge.

Surfmuppet wasn’t having a bar of the duck grease, being paranoid enough without leaving a nice trail of bird fat in the wake for some beastie from the deep to sniff out like some pisshead falling out of the pub after closing time and sniffing around for the nearest kebab shop.

Thieves Apprehended

At Balmoral, the muppet gets well cranky on the first feed break after discovering his Snap Lock bag of prize corn cake surprises (double corn cake with a thick layer of peanut butter and honey in between) has vanished. Kinda pathetic, but munching on one of those babies was been looked forward to with relish by SM out in the bay. Not a sign anywhere so with dark mutterings and a mouthful of manky banana, back into the water to let the paranoia and festering thoughts of being hard done by wallow around in the bilge water of a bitter soul.

At the next feed stop – as if by magic, there on the sand, the bag of corn cake/ peanut butter/ honey goo, waiting to be devoured!

Turns out coach Evan spotted three seagulls dragging (actually two dragging, one pushing) something down the beach after the first feed break and on investigation, discovered it was the muppet’s corn cake culinary delights being blagged.

Mosman police were called and the three seagulls were apprehended and arraigned to appear before the beak (couldn’t resist that) on the Monday. They are now on remand in the bird cages over Angel Place.

Bondi Head Spin

Post the sudden arrival and equally sudden departure of the dolphins, it’s the schlep back north toward Ben Buckler for the sixth lap. Surfmuppet is still struggling with form and function and glancing back, sees Rachel and Anna D bearing down on him. They’ve been behind with Fi and the rest of them frolicking with the mammalian sea clowns so the muppet steals a march on the lot of them and steams off up north after Jai who’s swimming like a nuclear powered submarine today.

Not a chance.

The ladies run him to ground like a pair of foxhounds on the trail of a decrepit grey fox (whiskers matted with honey and peanut butter goo) and glide past with the poised elegance of perfect technique. The muppet tries to keep up, and even catch the draft, but it’s a hopeless cause so stuff the lot of it, time to pack up the bongo drums and head for the hills.

Lurks behind the rest of the squad off the boat ramp regrouping for the next lap, almost goes with them but decides instead to chase a blue groper and a few sand whiting around the reef for a bit. Busted by coach Evan swimming out to warm up in the water after freezing his nuts off in the wind chill on the kayak.

Head is gone completely now and subsequently the cold is really starting to take a toll.

Complete contrast to last week where, for whatever reason, the psychology was good and so lasted over double the time and wasn’t as cold at the end of it.

Back on the beach Vlad is philosophical and counsels the relax and accept approach, the good and the bad days happen, technique will come together in its own time.

SM gets the duds on, packs the kit and shivers the way up to the silver bullet.

More dark mutterings.

Almost throws the goggles into a trash can on the promenade but pauses – will need them for the 13km hike across Galway Bay two weeks from today.

Ha, ha, ha.

That is going to be interesting!

Galway in summer makes Bondi in winter look like a tropical south seas paradise.

Keeps the goggles, racks up the car heating to max and the sound system to max plus, roars off up Bondi hill and lives to fight another day.

Postscript

Kayak and swimmer partnership, Sonny and Marty, in the waters off Balmoral last Saturday morning, under a sliver of moon…

Marty and Sonny Balmoral 0607132

Posted in Swimming | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Frenchmans Bay

Posted on June 30, 2013 by bourkeyy

0700hrs, Saturday 22nd June, 2013

Sunrise struggles against the banks of grey cloud and never makes an appearance.
Over the hill at Congwong Beach, the bodies of expired bluebottles line the high tide mark
and Vlad consults the team for a change of venue.
The air temp is around 8 degrees.

Surfmuppet has remembered to pack his incredible mind reading machine and surreptitiously takes it out, lasering everyone huddled around to secretly record their innermost thoughts, e.g.
“Man, I wish I was at home in bed now.”
“This is insane”
“Wonder if I sneak away will anybody notice?”

It’s cold.
The water looks morbid in the dark blue and oily grey colours of early winter.
The eastern horizon is fighting with the forces of darkness to clear the way for a watery sun to creep over the horizon.
It seems it too wants to stay in bed and forget about this solstice-ish day.
Vlad convinces his wee band that Frenchmans Bay and Yarra Bay over the road by the La Perouse shops is the best place for it.
The sparse bedraggled band of vagabond swimmers troops up the small lane, soggy sand underfoot, up and across the road and down to The Boatshed, perched on the edge of the water.
Not a word from the gang but Surfmuppet’s incredible mind reading machine picks up the general thought pattern of the mob that Frenchmans looks much like Congwong.
Bleak.
Then Blackdog breaks the silence with the quip, “no blueys but plenty of sharks”.
Surfmuppet went to see the zombie movie “World War Z” the night before, in 3D, and the nerves are subsequently a bit on the jangly side.
Didn’t need the S word.

Sonny checks the water temperature and cheerfully reports 13 degrees of sub-tropical sultryness. A collective shiver goes through the cadre but there’s nothing for it but strip off and get ready for the session. Forlorn hope that a bit of vasoline under the arms and around the shoulders might offer some comfort. Or that extra swim cap for added insulation to the brain.
Couple of the gang have wetsuits but the remainder are in the birthday suits (plus costumes).
Vlad uses his paddles to mark out the course on the sand.
Down the length of Frenchmans Bay to where a bit white sign with an “8” and a picture of a boat sits on the headland.
Past this into Yarra Bay and the breakwater in front of the Yarra Bay Sailing Club.
Stop just off the centre of the Bay, then turn back again direction Frenchmans Bay.

Team photo catches Anna D, Blackdog, Marti the Tattoed Man, Sonny, Simon, Katrina, Wyatt, Dr Greg, surfmuppet and a few other dudes.
See link below for photos and report of the day.

Comes now that time when the shillyshallying is over .
There’s no escape and everyone knows it.
When all the small talk peppers out and a foreboding half-silence settles over the supplicants to the goddess Oceania.
Put up or shut up.
Vlad herds his minions to the waters edge with the paddle while his erstwhile sidekick Martin whips and lashes them with the filament end of a shark shield borrowed from Sonny’s kayak.
“Into the water, ye scurvy dogs! Har!”(or the equivalent in an Eastern European patois).
The condemned wade in – not too bad, not too bad – splash the chest, head and back, let the water massage her tepid fingers over pallid skin – then plunge and down into the gloomy depths.

Aaaaaah!

Don’t think, just move the arms and kick the feet until the feeling of doing a Jesus act and running back to shore on the surface diminishes and finally disappears after a few minutes.
Used to a good six months of being spoiled in 20-22 degree waters, the winter drop to sub 15 brings back the reality of northern European ancestral homelands. For the heavy guns doing the channel it’s par for the course and these boys have no trouble doing 5, 8, 10 hours plus in this and lower. For the rest it’s welcome back from the fantasy world of summertime wussdom.

The squad strikes out into the bay and soon settles into the familiar configuration of the fasties and the lasties.
Up front the Channelers and other speedy types.
Down the back in lastie territory, surfmuppet struggling to keep up with Deano.
Water is dark and murky but not so murky that shapes of rocks and reefs, sand shallows cannot be made out along the course.
There are even welcome patches of warmer water but this is illusionary as the plunge back into colder currents almost takes the breath away.
Anna D falls back to join the pair of lasties midway through the second lap due to cramp.
And so the happy three plough on, stopping for a photo shoot as Vlad appears out of the gloom on the kayak.
Raining heavily now which has the effect of warming up the surface water a touch.

End of the fourth lap, team meeting at the feed station.
Feet gone numb and it’s traveling slowly up to the knees.
Exit the three lasties, hopping over the damp sand and up the concrete of the slipway.
Feet like blocks of ice by now and it’s now a race as to how fast to get on the layers of clothes.
Anna disappears in her car leaving Deano and the muppet looking wet and forlorn in an annex off the kitchen around the back of The Boatshed.

Shivering their way up the street, the duo enter an eatery for some coffee and a hot breakfast.
The three ladies behind the counter know a pair of frozen kippers when they see them and invite the boys behind the counter to warm themselves in front of the chicken grill which is blasting out heat rays to beat the midday sun over the Simpson Desert in the middle of summer.
Glorious warmth.
A second or two of thought for the Channel Boys still out in the bay and then again back to the chicken grill.
The ladies have an iPad out filming the thawing pair and are cracking up laughing.
Bacon and eggs with mugs of hotness, then Vlad and Wyatt enter the happy Chipper and join the table for refreshments and tales all round of derring-do in the oceans and seas of happy fantasia.
Soon it’s over and away into the Sydney traffic.
Save for the Channel Boys who just keep going on and on and on…
Respect!

http://swimadventures.com.au/one-day-swim/la-perouse-22-06-2013

Posted in Swimming | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Ode to Jaws

Posted on June 2, 2013 by bourkeyy

Saturday 1st June, first day of winter, return of the Impaler horde to Bondi for a 7am start led by the Blackdog whose on a mission to do 30 laps.

Surfmuppet, in the hallowed company of the “Inglorious Lasties” (named so by the five founding members – Fearless Fi, South African Roz, Virgin Greg, Big John and the muppet – while bobbing in the swell just off Ice Bergs), crawls up the sand after 14 laps over 4 hours, 40 minutes. Longest time in the water, distance, etc for him.

What passes through the head of the muppet slogging up and down the lonely lanes in the pool or along the coast off some Sydney beach?

To while away the time, he composes bits of doggerel and clumps of seaweed like verse, while keeping away thoughts of beasties lurking in the gloom waiting for a good chomp. The head villain is now 38 years in the limelight, so it’s befitting this little ditty should be in his honour.

Jaws is old now and well past his prime.
Once the most feared beast of all time
Farmers and mountain men who never saw the sea
in their beasty nightmares would climb any tree
to get away from this fangy great white
Who terrified all in the darkness of night
Garbos would see him lurking in their bins
Nuns and priests in their myriad of sins
Swimming pools and clubs all over the globe
Lost so many punters they soon had to close
He could climb up the drainpipe and appear in the bath
have you for starters and for dessert eat the cat
and after he polished off the poor cats last whisker
would wait in the cupboard to pounce on her sister.

Jaws was the greatest villain of all
no waterway, river, ocean or mall
was safe from his gaze and his sleek silent ways
Hollywood got rich on his homicidal craze
that went deeper and wider than any could predict
deep wounds in the psyche did the bould Jaws inflict
till a generation was maimed by the fear of this beast
and painted all sharks with a blood lust for feast
-ing on humans, ripping them to shreds
in two inches of water, so they all stayed in their beds
and left the wide ocean,the lake and the river
no more to go swimming, just stay home and shiver
in front of the TV and eat fish and chips
best place for a shark, battered up on the lips.

Moviestar Jaws thus ended his days
addicted to coke in the usual way
a bottle of whiskey before day’s first light
peeked over the hilltops and put night to flight.
He married a Stingray who took all his loot
and gave him a dose of syphilis to boot.
She left him for Flipper and moved down the road
and everytime they drove past, poor Jaws they’d goad.
Flipper had turned nasty with the passing of years
while Jaws kinda mellowed and when drunk came tears.
He’d been a bad shark and more is the pity
gave up the ocean and moved into the city
where he worked with the Salvoes rescuing drunks
hookers and trannies, druggies and punks.
They’ll not make him a saint when his last day has past
the pope won’t be thinking to canonise him fast.

So when you’re out on the deep and swimming your laps
and you churn up the water with your freestyle arm slaps
and kick your wee feet leaving foam, froth and bubble
which pre ’75 would certainly mean trouble.
But the tale of old Jaws has spread far and wide
down in the deep where the big sharks abide
they’ve all seen the movie and then heard the story
of their once proud ancestor, Big Jaws, dipped in glory.
How the fame of his ambushes, feasting and fun
in the end of his days it brought him undone.
Now when there’s a pod of humans above
thumping and splashing their way across a cove
they politely desist and say to each other
fuck mate, we’re outta here, they’re not worth the bother.

SM is absolutely knackered at the end of the swim and ends up doing the usual Saturday post swim recovery session with TimTams and Ice Cream on the sofa in front of the telly.

Made a donation to a guy he knows swimming across Galway Bay at the end of July in aid of Cancer Care.

All you shark dodgers out there feel free to do the same at:

http://www.mycharity.ie/event/karl_bourkes_event/

Posted in Swimming | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Latissimus Dorsi

Posted on May 30, 2013 by bourkeyy

Just over two months ago since making the switch over to Vlad and his gang at Vladswim.  With 13km of Galway Bay waiting in July, time to go to the long distance specialists. And slowly, SM discovers the Latissimus Dorsi muscle group.

Relax the neck! Swim long! Stretch out!Open the chest and the armpit!Scoop the water! Relax! Keep Smiling!

Yes, coaches Vlad, Charm, Ewen and Martin have been most vocal in helping SM discover the joys of the Lats.

Finally seemed to “get it” last week, especially with some break through words from Ewen, about not “muscling the water” and the importance of keeping the feet close together. Something shifted. Not sure what yet, but time will tell.

Lots of pool work, not so much out in the open water since the last Bondi excursion. Another one planned for this Saturday when the target is to crack the 10km barrier. Not long to go now to Galway so here’s looking at you baby!

Cold water training consisting of a couple of cold showers a day – nasty stuff, but the trick is to  run around the shower cubicle fast enough to dodge in and out of the icy spray. Screaming and yelling also seems to help. Wife working on finding a decent divorce lawyer, not that any property settlement would yield much. A deceased SM would be worth much more to her probably.

“Time for your cold shower, darling!”, her dulcet tones sound around the house.

SM became a grandfather today with the arrival of Hadassah Rose at 325am this morning in Westmead Hospital.We meet for the first time when she is six hours old. Already thinking she might have the makings of a good swimmer – enrol her next week  in the squad, get those tiny Lats working early on, never know, might swim for the green and gold one day. Seemed to like the tiny pair of googles SM presented her with.

Click as the lifecycle moves on another notch.

Yikes! Fund raising for the swim.

If anyone reads this, maybe consider a donation to Cancer Care West for muppet’s slog across Galway Bay (link below).

http://www.mycharity.ie/event/karl_bourkes_event/

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Bondi Round 2

Posted on May 5, 2013 by bourkeyy

Saturday 4th May

Down here in the south, Autumn advances steadily to where Winter is waiting around the corner with her horde of glacial goons. On the trip down from the northern end of Sydney, through the leafy suburbs of Hornsby, Wahroonga, Turramurra and Pymble, the leaves on the trees have changed into a colourfest of yellow, ochres, red and a bit of green remaining. The colours rival the sunrise which has the eastern horizon ablaze in red and yellow. Ominous given the old nursery rhyme of a red sky in the morning is the sailors warning. But as it turns out, false alarm, the day though grey in the early morning is lit up with the sun by 1o30 when the cloud cover clears and all is sunny again.

7am by North Bondi Surf Life Saving Club, the Impalers gather. Vlad prepares his kayak while the swimmers change, stow the goodies besides the bags, slap on the swim caps and googles, wade into the ocean. Conditions are perfect for the planned 10 laps of the bay. Water temperature is a 21.6 degrees – warmer in the water than outside – tide is low, almost no surf or waves of any description.

Vlad Squad Bondi 0405131

Preparing to set out for 10 laps – some of the team

Out over the rocks at the northern end to the boat ramp, lots of sea life darting here and there or just looking up at the bipeds thumping past overhead. Gather in a pack ready to set out for the south – Fearless Fi, Bondi John, Simon, Katarina, Rachel, Justin, Deane, Martin, Big John and a few others, just over a dozen all up.  Vlad gives the pep talk, points out a navigational marker, an apartment block to the east of Icebergs where an airliner is conveniently just passing over, and the pod is ready to go.

And they’re off.

Plan is to do six laps first off, then back to the beach for hydration and feeding. Another four laps after this, more optional for anyone who hasn’t had enough.

Visibility is excellent and if it wasn’t for the overcast sky, conditions would be unbeatable.

Fearless Fi shows the other back-of-the-backers a clean pair of heels and hounds away down the bay in the wake of Simon. As she says afterwards, didn’t know what came over her because it came back to haunt her in lap 3 plus. Sure hasn’t the muppet blown up on more than a few occasions himself. Fi soldiers on regardless.

As the laps are knocked off one by one, the team regroups and sets out again. The fasties are usually setting off just as the lasties make their appearance and Vlad shepherds the lot up and down, up and down. Come across other swimmers occasionally and a pack of kayakers makes an appearance at one stage. A recreational fishing boat drifts along on the current.

Coming to the end of lap six, angling in towards the beach more, come across a huge school of what looks like mullet just off the middle point of the bay. They obviously don’t know what to make of these lumbering beasts up on the surface and are swimming all over themselves trying to get out of harms way. Fair few sand whiting about as well but not in big schools like this one.

Vlad Squad Bondi 0405133

Regrouping at the southern end of Bondi, just off Icebergs

Welcome break for some water, energy snacks and then back in for the next four laps. Fi has had enough and swaps swimming for the kayak, giving Vlad a go in the water. By now a reasonable wind has come up which has a bit of bite to it so it’s no hanging around on the beach, back into the drink. As we depart, a woman sitting with a child on the sand remarks that she thinks we’re all mad. Could be something in that.

Deane and the surfmuppet go stroke for stroke for the entire 10 laps despite both trying at different times to pull away from the other. In the end a kind of non verbal detente is agreed upon. Both are finalizing entries for the Southhead Roughwater Classic coming up in two weeks so this could be the makings of a good partnership on the day.

End of lap 7, down at the southern end, Fi giving Deano and the muppet a lecture on being too slow, need to put a bit of commitment into it, swim faster scurvy dogs. All from the relative luxury of the kayak. So it’s back up north again – not sure which way the current is running but it definitely seems to be a faster swim heading north.

Soon it’s the final lap and Vlad starts it off with a bit of butterfly and backstroke, then vanishes into the gloom once into freestyle mode. Fatigue starting to set in but Deane and the muppet slug it out for final line honours, neither prevailing over the other.  Slow swim back into the beach from the boat ramp, see a big blue groper hanging around the rocks with the other fish, looking cool. Some of the others, led by Rachel, decide to do a few more laps but SM has had enough. Still a bit left in the tank, not totally wasted like last week and thus ending up flayed out on the sofa at home, eating Timtams and watching TV for the rest of the day.

Sun is now starting to come out as we pack up. Run into the Taxman as he prepares to hit the water with the 1030 Bondifit crew. He won the trip to Vanuatu in one of the competitions over the season and is pretty chuffed about it.  Enjoy!

Posted in Swimming, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Twelve Laps of Bondi

Posted on April 28, 2013 by bourkeyy

North Bondi Saturday 27th April

It’s 0715 by the time the rebel alliance of Impalers hits the water just to the north of North Bondi SLC. The praetorian guard of the squad are all down in Melbourne at the Cold Water Training Camp so it’s left to the remnant to fly the flag at Bondi.

Plan is to do eight laps, from just in front of the boat ramp on the north side across to Icebergs on the southern end.

Earlier, SM has arrived in time to make a generous contribution to Waverley Council’s coffers in the form of feeding the hungry parking meter.

From previous experience the parking rangers around this neck of the woods have passed SAS selection and at the blinking of an eye can morph into inanimate objects to blend into the background like true ambush predators.

Your average bus stop, bush, tree or mound of dog turd along Campbell Parade can instantly transform back into a Ranger who’ll ninja pounce on any unpaid-up car with gusto and relish.

Anyway, the rebel alliance gathers by the side of the  SLC and scuttle down to the sand to deposit the kit bags, set out the drinks and goodies, get ready for the morning swim. Simon leads the pack and is joined by Jai, Fearless Fi, Bondi John, Balmain Anna, Deane, Scott and el surfmuppet. Cop a bit of flack when putting on the sunblock, something about not wanting to ruin the snowwhite suntan before strutting the beach in Galway playing the sunbronzed Aussie in July.

The water temperature is in the low 20s as the crew steps out into the drink and skims over the miniscule surf and out to sea towards the boat ramp where we bob around plucking up the wherewithal to stop chatting and begin the morning’s fun. Must have been like this down amongst the slaves on the rowing deck of Ben Hur’s ship. You know, all the slaves having a bit of a laugh amongst themselves before the slave master cracks the whip and it’s all shoulders to the oars.

And they’re off.

Jai, in hot pink bikini, sets off with the muppet in pursuit, the pair being hunted down by the pack along the way to Icebergs. Soon we’re are out in the bay, the sun slowly gaining strength above the northern headland, casting everything in a golden Autumnal hue from the sun’s low angle in the sky.

To the landward side Bondi is slowly coming to life. Here and there the last of Friday night’s party animals scurry around corners to get into bed like vampires searching for a handy coffin before the full scourge of the sun is unleashed.

Water visibility is excellent and the small bit of chop out in the bay is enough to add a bit of spice to the proceedings without being anything much to bother with.

Soon round one comes to a close as the edifice of Icebergs looms up like a multi storied ocean liner anchored up by the rocks. The fasties like Simon, Bondi John, Anna, Scott and Deane await the lasties such as Jai, Fi and the muppet. All one big happy family bobbing around in the gentle swell and then Simon gives the word and the pack sets off north again.

This sets the pattern of the morning.

Jai has enough done by 2 laps and skips away leaving the rest to head on back south for another couple of laps. Other teams of swimmers are out in the bay and so it’s the heads up now and again to prevent mid water head butting contests. Bit of controversy between Simon and Bondi John about how far in towards Icebergs the pod should regroup but soon settled in a gentlemanly fashion.

End of four laps and back into the beach for hydration and energy snacks. By now the sun is well up, high tide, more and more bodies in the water.

See Spot lead his Bondifit stormtroopers off into the distance towards Mackenzie’s point and around to Tamarama. Later, with his full squad, like a skirmish line of infantry, lined up along the beach and changing into the water. Did this for a while with BF – great craic altogether. Later say a quick hello to Spot after our swim finishes just as he’s waiting for the last round of ins and outs to come back to the beach.

Try out an energy gel, with caffeine, and take off like a rocket once back in the water for the fifth lap. Trouble is there is stage separation of the rocket booster tanks half way back across and it’s back to the former pace, with Fearless Fi going stroke for stroke. Deane falls back on laps six and seven which is great as now the muppet gets a bit of drafting practice in, with Fi drafting off him – a happy string of three. Try not to do too much toe tapping but it’s hard with all the bubbles and trying to do the Vlad thing and relax the neck but Deane is fortunately the patient type. Gets his mojo back on lap 8 and surges ahead again.

Suddenly it’s the end,  8 laps done,  back in to the beach, the goodies and the temptation to call it a day.

All finished except for Anna and the muppet. She’s going for the 10km South Head Roughwater swim on Sunday May 19 so wants to get as close to this today as she can. Decide to join her for a few more. Turns out it’s another set of four, a total of 12 laps for the morning.

Anna puts up a great show of patience pairing with a patient exhibiting  an exponentially decreasing pace and by the last lap it’s going through the motions as the fatigue sets up camp and cooks some snags over the camp fire. By mutual agreement she is released from the bondage of muppet shepherding and zooms off into the blue yonder.

Different channels are taken by different swimmers. Some go out wide, out into the deeper water. Others take a middle course and others again go in closer to the sandbank.This was the muppet on the last two laps as the energy levels dropped. By now the swell has picked up a bit, enough for a playground-like up she rises/ down she goes kind of trip.

A weakened back starts to spasm a bit, courtesy of a rugby injury when playing second row in college back in the day. Must be all that lifting and looking triggering it.

Anyway, start to edge in closer to the sandbar but still far enough out not to get caught up in the break. Have a weird feeling of being watched. A tinge of paranoia arcs up deep in the soul and start to scan about. Then see a big guy on a standup board looking over. And behind him a whole line of surfers. All sitting there on their boards looking at the muppet.

Beginning to feel like a bit of a reluctant hero – why are they so interested?

They’re not.

They’re watching the ocean behind for the next set lining up behind the muppet as he slogs his way back direction Ben Buckler. All that sea water can play tricks on the mind.

Brief moment of quasi fame.

Eventually spot the yellow swim cap of Anna returning from the north end and we join up for the last few hundred metres of the last lap. Anna works out the k’s on her Garmin and while it’s not quite 10km, it’s within a reasonable shot of it. Took about four hours, including the couple of water/ food breaks.

Back on the beach run into some of the BF crew who are finishing up, including Rumpole. He was with the crew who swam around to Tamarama and reported some of the group came across a shark just off Mackenzie’s Point. About 6 ft, slid underneath them and disappeared. Probably out for an after breakfast snack, a bit of brunch.

Good catching up and swapping war stories.

Posted in Swimming | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Balmoral Bull Shark Blues

Posted on April 20, 2013 by bourkeyy

Lashing with rain as the silver bullet pulls up behind The Bathers Pavilion at Balmoral and the surfmuppet hops out to go in search of Vlad and his band of intrepid Impalers.

Finds them huddled en masse by a tree to the left of the Balmoral Beach Club, stripping off, getting the vaso on and not worrying too much about the sun block. Great big purple black clouds lurk over the heads in the distance, the colour of punched eyes the morning after a drunken brawl up the Cross. The lashing of the rain increases with a fury so that the safest place to be is in the water.  Which is a murky green colour and full of bull sharks. Nice choice.

Forgot parking – race back to the silver bullet, stopping by the bank on the way to get a second mortgage to feed the parking meter. Not enough cash, need to use the plastic which various parking meters – infernal machines, the work of the devil – won’t read because the reader slot is dripping wet. By the time SM gets back the Impalers are walking towards the water with Vlad exhorting his minions to be brave while dragging his kayak along the sand.

Muppet leaping about under the tree between sheets of rain trying to get his gear off, sling the bag into the back of Vlad’s car which is by now jam packed with Impaler baggage, and runs to the water to join the happy throng.

Compared to the land and the soggy wet sand the water is tropical island warm. The pack sets off south towards Rocky Point, the rocky promontory which divides Hunters Bay into Edwards Beach in front of the Pavilion and the Bathing Club, and Balmoral Beach south of Rocky Point. First destination the swimming baths on the southern end of Balmoral beach.  Then turn back north again, past Rocky Point and up into Middle Harbour, destination Rosherville Reserve bay. Then back down again. Repeat until your arms fall off.

Pretty soon it’s the same old story – the Peloton disappearing into the distance with Vlad scooting alongside on his kayak. Muppet and an English Channelateer team up and end up getting a bit lost amongst all the yachts moored up at the southern end of Hunters Bay.  Spy the Peloton hooning away back north up the bay so set off in fast (well, kinda sluggish) pursuit. Back at Rocky Point who turns up out of the blue but Big John and Fearless Fiona and thus our happy pod of four steams away up middle harbour in search of the elusive Impaler Peloton. Hit occasional seams of icy cold water, hoping it’s not stormwater being channeled into the bay via secret pipelines.

By this stage it’s evident that the legendary bull sharks of Sydney Harbour are having the day off and are having none of the foul weather up on the surface. Down below in Neptune’s Bar and Grill they’re getting drunk on octopus ink wine and singing the bull shark blues.

On with the swim. To the east the skull white edifice of Grotto Point Lighthouse in the Sydney Harbour National Park is a good reference point to progress but it seems to be stationary for a while, indicating a bit of a current going south.  The English Channelateer takes a line in the middle of the water course while surfmuppet, Fearless Fiona and Big John form a trio and go in close to the small cliffs on the western side.

Great underwater scenery with lots of reef, shoals of small fish, billowing clumps of sea weed, the rich and famous in the mansions above chomping away on their bacon and eggs while looking down on the aquanauts gliding past below.

Turn the corner into Rosherville Reserve bay and there in the distance is the elusive Peloton with Vlad and his kayak. By the time we get there they’ve flown the coup so it’s a guick pep talk from the V-Man and back again to the swimming.

The trip back south seems to go faster supporting the muppet’s theory of a current in play. Bit of a swell coming through the heads which makes passing too close to the reefs along the way a bit dicey.  One of the guys later gets a nasty gash on the hand from miscalculating this.

But back to happier times – the feeding session back at the jumping off point. Load up on the carbs and the water. Charm stands guard over the goodies in a white full length rain coat with hood. Shoos the trio back into the water and it’s off again for the loop back down to the swimming baths and back again.

Half way across Hunters Bay the rain starts to bucket down so the surface of the water looks like the sizzling hot surface of oil in a frying pan.  Passing by Rocky Point, Big John gives Fearless Fiona a shock by grabbing hold of her ankle for the laugh. She retaliates by threatening to dak him there and then and has a go. The rain lashes down while the pair go at each other. The muppet tries to bring a mature tone to the proceedings but decides on the Falstaffian notion of discretion being the better part of valour. Once the pair settle down it’s back to the beach where Charm cuts a forlorn figure standing alone on the strand. Fearless Fiona gets to get out while Charm hunts Big John and the muppet back into the water for more torture.

Half way back across the bay the sky goes black as if the full fury of Mordor is about to be unleashed and the five Wraiths mounted on flying dragons are set to swoop down. Big John and the muppet freak each other out with tales of swimmers getting fried to a crisp by lightning strikes on days such as this so the pair swim back to the tucker box in the hope of slinking past Charm while she’s not looking.

No such luck and the pair are busted before they’re half way up the sand. She relents to the pleas for mercy and then it’s hot showers for the boys, joined by various members of the Peloton as they return to the land of the living.  Clocked at two and a bit hours water time and about 6kms for the pair.

On the way back to the silver bullet spy the Awaba Cafe and order up a coffee to go. Chat to some of the Peloton-ers who’d finished ages ago and have just polished off breakfast.  Crank up the heating in the bullet, wipers on full bore, over the hills of Mosman and back to the world.

Posted in Swimming | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Last Zebra in Botany Bay

Posted on April 14, 2013 by bourkeyy

The tiny suburb of Kyeemagh, the jump off point for this Saturday’s swim, is a salient of land bounded by Muddy Creek to the northwest, the Cooks River to the North, and Botany Bay, originally called Stingray Bay by Captain Cook, when he first arrived in 1770.

The beach was originally called Seven Mile Beach and extends from the mouth of the Cooks River to the north, to the Georges River in the south. The name was changed in 1874 to Lady Robinson’s Beach, in honour of the wife of the Sir Hercules Robinson, Governor of NSW 1872-79.

7am rendezvous with Vlad the Impaler and his motley crew of long distance swimmers.

One of those balmy Autumn Sydney days which are the stuff of legend. Join the bodies traipsing their way down to the beach from the car parks off Bestic Street and the area around C Side restaurant just off General Holmes Drive.

Some of the channel trainees are going for a six hour swim up and down Marine Parade.

The rest are planning lesser swims but still substantial compared with the muppet’s best effort of 3.8km last year in the Lake Macquarie Coal Point-Belmont race. The 10km of 100 x 100m in the ABC pool last weekend doesn’t count in the open water stakes.

Vlad marshals the proceedings, getting his kayak ready and the two other kayakers going out on the course also. One of the kayaks has a shark guard (www.sharkshield.com) which is both reassuring and a touch disconcerting. Charm takes names, gets waivers signed off from those who haven’t do so already.  Slapping on of Vaseline, sun block, getting hydration and food sorted out.

A crate mounted on a boogie board, with some additional flotation, is anchored at the start, just off the beach where Charm has set up a beach tent, various armchairs and a bag full of goodies and the Saturday papers.

Water temperature is approximately 23.5 degrees, so warm as. Not exactly training for the frigid water of northern European e.g the English Channel or the Atlantic (Galway Bay to be more precise), but the objective for today is time in the water. The cold water training camp in Melbourne in two weeks time (www.swimadventures.com.au/content/melbourne-camp) will kick the icicle conditioning off nicely for those requiring it. Would be great for the 15 degrees expecting in Galway in July but not sure at this point if the marriage will allow for the weekend of 13 degree ocean frolicking away from Castle Von Muppet atop of the Gorge.

The first leg is a 3km swim south past Brighton-le-Sands parallel to Marine Parade, incorporating a swim past of the Novotel, the shopping precinct, the line of yellow buoys, the shark netted area, the orange buoy to the south of this, which is the 1.5km marker. Then past two breakwaters to the corner of the third which marks out the 3km course. Food and hydration loaded onto the kayaks for the rendezvous at the southern end.

Off the gang sets after a brief photograph, to the roar of Boeings and Airbuses taking off and landing from the runways of Sydney airport a few hundred metres to the north. This is a fairly gun crew, most of them English Channel and/ or Rottnest Channel veterans and the muppet is very quickly the last zebra in the pack, trailing behind and the gap getting wider by the stroke.

Inexorably, the sight of the mob, plus the escorting kayaks inc the one with the sharkshield, fades from view and the last zebra is left to zig zag up the bay with only a vivid imagination for company. Fuel is provided by Mr Spielberg’s 1976 gorefest and various offering from the Nat Geo channel on Foxtel.

Not good.

There’s the physical conditioning for long distance (working on it) and the psychological side of things (working on it). That’s not just anti beastie positive thinking.  It’s also coping with keeping it together during prolonged bouts of binary switching between the realms of the surface (the land of the living) and the depths (bubbles, murky water, an occasional glimpse of the sea floor and sometimes a fish).

Prolonged instances of staring into the darkness of the abyss, both external and after a while, in the depths of the soul. On this journey bereft of all save Speedos, goggles, swimming cap, about as naked as the day of birth (some say ocean swimmers are born, like baby sharks, fully equipped to survive, all goggled up), and the state of ultimate departure off-planet.

No wonder a muppet can freak the shite out of himself within a kilometre or so. The sand on the beach looks awful tempting. Ok, there’d be the walk of shame up the beach, but hey, just gather up the gear, auf weidersehn not to the support team, and zoom away in the car, throwing all the swimming stuff out the window on the way to the next adventure – maybe trail bike riding or parachuting. Join the Army Reserve or perhaps the local Men’s Shed. Take to the drink even.

When all else fails, just keep putting one arm in front of the other, stroke for stroke and tell the head to go get f**ked.

But then a splash from behind and through the glare of the still early morning sun glancing off the water, a large head appears.

“All right, mate? Want to swim together?”

Turns out Big John, training for the English Channel in August/ September, strained a shoulder in training and is taking it steady today – going for 12 to 15km but at a slow pace.

We buddy up and stay that way, except for the last 1.5km when the muppet totally blows up with fatigue and slogs back up the course in solitude – but cool with it.

So it’s on down the sweep of the waterfront, past the white edifice of the Novotel. The line of yellow buoys marking the no boat zone in front of the main boulevard. Past the piers and white wire meshing of the shark save swimming area (the people inside grabbing their children to point out the loons swimming outside, giving them a lecture on what not to do kiddies), the orange market buoy at 1.5km and then the rock formations jutting out into the bay – one, two, three.

We meet the strings of other swimmers on the return leg with their kayak escorts but keep going to the end point where Vlad is waiting on his kayak. Stop for a minute and get reorientated. No goodies for us, must be on the other kayaks. Warning about the jet skis occasionally zipping up and down, keep closer in to the beach.

This works well until the pair swim too close to one of the yellow market buoys. Surfmuppet’s head misses it by a hair’s breath, but Big John slaps into it with his left hand and discovers it’s as hard as concrete. Grazing and blood in the water. Stuff it, keep going. Energy starts to flag coming towards the start point despite a brief mercy fuel-up with Gatorade from Vlad as he escorts the rocket swimmers back down the beach for their next leg.

Reach the jumping off point of the boogie board with the goodies and the pair dive in to the snacks, energy gel, water, Gatorade. An angry voice disrupts and here’s Charm wading out, resplendid in a floral one piece, dishing out a bollocking about the pair not fuelling up at the end of the 3km leg. Fair enough. The pair take it and then set off again on the 1.5km leg to the orange buoy and then back again.

The return leg is a Via Dolorosa for the muppet as fatigue kicks in big time and it comes down to grinding out the metres regardless of speed. Cramping in the legs and shoulders so move a bit closer to the shore in case of a big cramp and having to get out of the water. Work through it and keep going. Spy an occasional-looks-like-a-mini-stingray thingy under the water. The rockets flash by again on their fifth leg or whatever but past caring at this stage. Need to keep lifting and looking to avoid a head-on head smash. Been there, done that, not pleasant.

The steady stream of incoming jetliners provides a bit of diversion when breathing to the ocean side. Some beach walkers on the land side.

Say goodbye to Big John at the end as he keeps going for another couple of laps. Great to have a partner on a distance swim like this, even just to provide a second opinion on direction or boost the morale.

Charm and some of the earlier finishers are relaxing on the beach. Officially logged at 9km over 3 hours, 25 minutes approximately.  Longest distance and time in the water for the muppet by a country mile, or whatever the nautical equivalent. Slowest Zebra in the Bay but get there in the end.

Bit of chat and banter, then it’s off to the Silver Bullet and then over the hill and far away.

13km is starting to look a bit more approachable.

Posted in Swimming | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

North Steyne 1 and 2.8km

Posted on March 26, 2013 by bourkeyy

Says a colleague, the difference between having a job and running a business is the ability to let go.

Sunday morning, Surfmuppet arrives for the races in good time with the Mrs and Skater Girl, down from Byron Bay to fleece the oldies as a finale for her 21st birthday week.

Ocean as calm as it gets without being a mirror. Bit of a wave breaking off the sandbar in front of the North Steyne SLSC, like a footstep in front of the door to the land of happy.

Signed up for the two races online so whizz through the registration in the clubhouse which is all manual. Four digit number in permanent market inside of both forearms, white cap, then down to the beach.

Chat with one of the Spillane Clan from Country Kerry who’s been doing a bit with Can To out at Bondi. The Journo rocks up and the banter rises a notch or two. The Daleymeister and Jimbo surface, fresh from the Lake Macquarie swim yesterday. We are regaled by Neil on his recent 10km swims in Dubbo and Glenelg, the latter beastie central on the best of days. He is going to be tough to beat on the km swam leaderboard this year.

Bright and sunny for the start of the 1km as the gang goes out straight, then sharp left at the first can and north up the beach to the two turning buoys forming the end of a rectangle. Then back down, sharp turn right and into the beach.

The muppet is trying out the  new long distance technique of long stretch and glide, roll of the body – totally stuffing it up by times but getting back on track by letting go and rebooting. Stretch, roll, glide. It may take a while but the plan is to have it perfected for Galway Bay end of July.

Water is clear with a few cold spots as if to remind all Autumn is here and won’t be long til l’hiver cometh. But to the muppet the touch of ice is a balm to the fevered brow of relaxation into the new style of swimming.

And all goes swimmingly until…

Past the last can and about 150m off shore, spotted a boofhead coming at speed on the left flank. Relax. Let him do his thing. Boof switches attack to the right flank but the muppet has him spotted thanks to Spot’s flogging his minions to breath left or right. No problem. Relax. Let go. Let old Boof go steaming past in a victory sprint.

Alas.

Impulse control lapses, the dinosaur synapses arc up and it’s on. Muppet switches back into former stoke in a effort to put on the power but the boof is digging deep. The pair lock into a death struggle. Muppet is giving it everything trying to haul the hound beside him back and now they are in the breaker zone. The boof catches one, falls off it, muppet catches the next, falls off that, then the boof is up and dolphin leaping through the shallows and the muppet…the muppet is falling behind. But wait. Boof is up on the sand and has stopped to stoll beside a friend and the muppet strikes from behind, brushing shoulders as he charges past and quips “come on ya bastard!”. The boof is galvanised into the chase. The pair sprint like lunatics , neither giving ground and storm into the timing gate neck and neck. Manual process, waiting about, muppet’s heart thumping and fighting back the urge to bring up the breakfast. Boof looking away in disgust from the juvenile caper he’s just been dragged into

Not exactly letting go.

A card for a lucky prize cheers SM up a bit from the waves of self recrimination and “why does one have to be such an eejit” whistling through the brain canister. The free race T shirt lifts muppet up like a neat wave on a shallow bank, and then all the fruit, protein balls, gatorade. Almost ready for the 2.8km. The Journo, Shropshire Lad and Richard the Sharkman mingle about swapping yarns and soon it’s off direction Shelley and Cabbage Tree Bay.

And it’s a corker…SM behaves himself and sticks to the race plan the whole way. Relax – let go – enjoy the warm sun, the balmy clear water (with cold patches), the seascape around the marine park, the squad of divers down a few fathoms off Shelley lying back and looking up at the swimmers passing overhead, the turn at Manly point and the long swim back across the bay to the finish. Steady pace, pass a few, get passed by loads but who cares. Big question is whether this pace can be sustained over 13km and the answer is…yes, with more endurance work over the next few months, do-able. Might even speed up a little.

The Journo dishes out another hiding but…letting it go.

Get another lucky draw prize card from one of the ladies at the finish, second free T Shirt. How good can it get? Choose a smaller size and give it to Skater Girl as a 21st birthday present over breakfast in Manly.

“Yea, nice try Dad, now hand over your wallet!”

Posted in Swimming | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Nissan BRW Corporate Triathlon

Posted on March 3, 2013 by bourkeyy

Surfmuppet gets a podium finish!

One of the first through the gates of the domain carpark at 5am and beats the best of them getting back out through the gates at 1125.

Yee haw!

Stick at this game long enough and a body will win…something… eventually.

That’s right, 4,000 of the Sydney high end of town best and brightest do battle in the Nissan BRW Corporate Triathlon in the Botanical Garden around Lady Macquarie’s Chair.

The wind and the rain were having a fist fight outside the window at 4am this morning, howling and lashing one another with venom and spite.

World War 2 vintage mountain bike packed into the silver bullet last night after repairing a puncture in the back tyre which cuts short the third outing on the bike and thus bringing the bike leg training program to an abrupt conclusion.

The guy who sold SM the contraption swore blind Rommel used it on the retreat from El Alamein and only for the speediness of the thing, he would have been captured by Monty and wouldn’t have killed himself after the botched plot on Adolf, instead retiring to Australia to open a bicycle shop.

Who pulls up at 505 just as our boy is unpacking the car but il capo del tutti capi, Iron Tyre. He pulls out his bike from the bike of the 4WD and comparing the bikes is like contrasting a greyhound with a pug. Carbon fibred to the max. One of those fancy pumps also for blowing tires up to a pressure of 100 million psi. SM is dead impressed but says nothing, acting casual like instead of drooling and looking uncool.

The pair makes their way in the darkness up to the steps of the Art Gallery of NSW. Rain has let up and the throngs gather silently in the darkness, like medieval pilgrims off to see some vaunted relic of a saint’s toenail in a wooden box in a grotto down by Lady Mac’s chair.

Joined by the Kinsale Gazelle who is on a new Avanti bike, cleats and all. This boyo is 6ft 20 something  and looks like one stride would cover the same ground as five from an ordinary chap.

Kate from BF turns up for the Triathlon Australia team as all around team captains dish out timing chips, swim caps, mark up bib numbers of arms, stick stickers to helmets and arms, sort out racing schedule.

SM looks at his two phantom team members as their shades dissolve into the mist – one succumbing to the flu, the other to family pressures. The muppet will be racing alone.

The Corporation has securing first wave starts for most of the gang and so it’s off we go down to the bike corral, get the transition stuff sorted, then to the hospitality tent and all ready for the off.

First wave scheduled to leave at 730 with the SM and all the other green hornets from the Corporation mingling out in the water with the rest of the wave. Grey clouds roiling and boiling around over the Opera House, the Bridge, North Sydney and City CBDs.

Big crowd to send off the trailblazers and also to check if any of the beasties in the water will be flushed out by this first portion of humans into the harbour. Lots of swimming around, group waves to the crowd, the commentator whipping the crowd into a early Sunday morning frenzy and then the hooter.

And they’re off.

SM takes a steady to fast pace up the 300 metre course, saving a bit for a sprint at the end. Water temperature is just short of a hot bath and visibility is surprisingly good after all the rain of the last few weeks. Another green hornet surges past on the left but the muppet doesn’t react. Let him have his head of steam but keep watching. Last 100 metres the fellow hornet starts to struggle and the muppet accelerates past. Gotcha!

Then the swim leg is over just as the muppet is getting his second wind. Should make the swim a couple of Ks and the bike and run leg two and one km respectively – but for now, the torture is about to commence!

Up the wooden stairs and then running barefoot up the pathway, over a little hill, over rocks and grass, through the timing gate (the swim end thus in amongst the trees on dry land!), then back through more park land until eventually Rommel’s Romp is sighted.

On with the socks and shoes, get a bit of water in and hoof it with the bike up to the exit of the compound where mounting (of the bikes) is allowed.

Whatever little advantage the muppet has gained in the swim is now blasted away ruthlessly by the rest of the wave. An avalanche of Avantis, Giants, Treks, Cannondales, BMCs etc hurtle by as SM plugs along the circuit, past Boy Charlton pool, the Art Gallery, turn at the top of the hill, back down again to LMC and then around for another circuit. Riverman, the Gazelle, Iron Tyre and the Punjabi all scream past in the glorious green egging SM on.

By this time the ladies from the second wave had joined the hurtling and the first of the runners are pounding anticlockwise up the same circuit, except on the pavement.

SM is drilling away down the hill at this stage thinking…perhaps  train a little harder next year for the terrestrial legs. Even the Karate Kid, who SM beat last year, slides past and dishes out a saucy quip but that doesn’t get the muppet riled as the game was up for this year a month ago.

Hop off the bike and another squirt of water, strap on the run bib and off through the forest of bikes to where the timer chirps for the start of the next dance. Team up with another Clydesdale for the first K and between laboured breathes exchange pleasantries. Then a bit of energy sweeps over the muppet and he breaks away and around the turn for the run down the hill past the gallery and the pool.

Best bit is the couple of hundred metres across from the Navy base at Woolloomooloo, with the destroyers, frigates and supply ships all lined up against a backdrop of Kings Cross up the hill.  The finish is just over a rise and the marathon photo people are blasting away ten to a dozen. Bit of clowning around for the cameras just for the craic.

Gang of the green hornets at the finish line give a big cheer for the muppet, the backmarker of the first wave, as he trundles over the line.

Thank God for that – over for another year.

Lots of backslapping, Gatorade, catering in the corporate tent, swapping war stories. A few of the lads make soothing comments about Rommel’s Romp and how they’ll have to get SM onto a decent bike for next year’s show.

Now comes the round of the stands for the freebies (lots of free sports socks this year for some reason) and cheering on the remnants of the green hornet army in later waves –  Rach from HR, Fast Sam and Big Andy from Field Services, Hoonie from IT, Carol from Services etc.

Best of all is the Prince of Persia who, although a good cyclist and runner, is not much chop at the swim leg. The hornets cheer him on through the transition from freestyle to breaststroke, then back stroke, then lying on his back just flapping the feet. Refuses all offers of assistance from the water safety (great job done by the North Narrabeen SLC) and eventually wobbles up out of the water onto the finishing platform.

SM times (plus change) over the last four years:

2010 – 44 minutes, 2010 – 48 minutes, 2011 – 43 minutes, 2013 – 46 minutes.

Wonder what Lady Macquarie would make of all this carry on?

“Lachlan. Come here! What are all these peasants doing running and swimming around my picnic spot. And riding those strange mechanical ponies. It won’t do, Lachlan, I tell you, it won’t do! Have them all flogged like a good fellow, will you? Now, how about a spot of tea and a nice cucumber sandwich?”

The main race of the day as far is SM is concerned is when they open up the bike corral and it’s a gallop down the hill for the parking station.

Podium finish for the muppet, easy!

Posted in Swimming | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment