Barney Mullins Swim, Freshwater, The Balmoral Swim, Sunday, March 16, 2008
Beware the Tides of March
... turn Barney Mullins into a Biathlon, but no problem at Balmoral

Phil Johnston faced a difficult decision at Freshwater ...

A man should never have to choose between his children, but that’s a bit how I felt after this morning …….

We’re fortunate to live an equal distance between Freshie and Curly. The kids were in South Curly Nippers for years, I’m now a member of North Curly SLSC and family trips to the beach mostly involve Freshie. Thinking about this swim I was wondering if it would be better than my first official dip of the season, the North Curly 2km. Which beach would serve up the best experience?

But then it’s not a fair comparison is it? I have a soft spot for both beaches but they’re chalk and cheese. So let’s see if I can make this children analogy work (reckon if I can’t oceanswims.com will let me know; he’s not yet edited me, that I’ve noticed, but there’s always a first).

Freshie is the bubbly 5 year old… small, cute, pretty much always well turned out and almost always very easy to control (‘though, yes, she does have a temper but you rarely see that). Freshie is very popular, try getting a park during the summer, and everyone loves her.. what’s not to love?

Curly, on the other hand, well have you seen Brat Camp on the ABC? Curly is a surly teenager…. big, powerful, unpredictable, doesn’t seem to be able to control itself nor know what it wants to do. Riddled with rips, Curly needs to be treated with respect. Not as popular because people don’t know how to handle Curly’s dark and stormy temper.

Yes, they are very different; a cute as a button five year old and a moody teenager, Freshie and Curly, but as I said I have a love for both. And this morning Freshie was at her endearing best. Pushing the analogy to breaking point, I’m thinking first day at kindy, brand new uniform, shining hair and enthusiastic to share in a collective adventure. Even the sun was charmed by her and put in an appearance before the start of the race (and you might know how I feel about swimming when the suns out; the ocean lights up).

Right I’m shelving the kid analogy ‘til later.

Glistening Dave wasn't at Balmoral, but you wouldn't know it, such is the quality of this pano.

Take note, all you desperate women out there: Single and eligible. Graham Hardy also won the Over 50s Boofheads. So clever, too.

Honest toiler.

Mrs Sparkle was helped into the Barney Mullins Biathlon, as it was dubbed, for it was close to 200 metres from the start line to when mugs actually could start swimming. Her helper is oceanswims.com correspondint, Phil Johnston. Good boy, yourself, Phil!

Believe it or not, this bloke was a judge, so you'd think he'd be able to work out which way to face ... the lure of the camera, however, is too great for most men. Especially when we yell at them to turn around to pose, in this case because we wanted a pic of Kim Wilson in his Darth Vader goggles. You, too, can look like Kim in your very own Darth Vader goggles, or in Fully Sicks, or some other View goggle, by clicking here. (We should point out that Kim had no idea we would use his pic for an ad in this way, when we took it. Neither did we, for that matter.)

Five minutes on the pushy got me down to Freshie this morning. A relaxed check-in, ‘though if I’d been over 50 I’d have got through the process a lot quicker. What is it with all us forty-somethings? Mid-life crisis makes me want to do something to convince myself I’m not getting on as much as the morning mirror shows I am; any other opinions? Anyways, I hadn’t pre-registered and paid my $40 (which puts Freshie up there in terms of price when you think $ per km).

Whilst waiting for the 40-50 line to whittle down I met James and Nicolee Goins. Nicolee had just picked James up from the airport, off the red-eye from Perth where he’d done the 20km swim to Rottnest on Saturday. And now here he was backing up to do the Freshie 1.5km … hardly seems getting your Speedos wet after that magnificent perfomance, James. That’s what I call commitment. Well, truth be told what I call commitment was not having that last beer the night before, you know the one that tips you over from dusty the next morning to seedy. There you go, just a different type of commitment.

I also met Mr oceanswims.com and Suanne and had a nice chat about nothing in particular, which nice chats generally are about. However, one thing we touched on was Suanne’s smashed heel-bone and how it was hard for her to run into the water. So I offered to help her in (you’d a been proud of me, Mum) and reassured her that no, it really wouldn’t jeopardise my potential podium spot. I was also given the daunting responsibility of pressing the ‘Go’ button on the GPS machine just as we reached the water's edge. Now the oceanswims.com GPS machine actually wasn’t worn in someone's swim-hat, it was fastened to the back of Suanne's swimmers… it looks like a big wrist watch and is a pretty fancy piece of kit (apart from the fact that it didn’t work today and yes I did press the button I was supposed to).

So down to the water for a quick dip before the start, small bit of mild panic at not being able to find Suanne and so do my important deed. But then she saw me, the button was pressed, the thing beeped in a way that presumably meant it was taking to some satellite overheard and we were in business.

The bloke said go over his megaphone and we were off. We were right at the front of the mob but with Suanne’s arm round my shoulder, and that last Coopers from the night before slowing me down a bit, a lot of people went past us. It was really quite a sight to see dozens of people streaming ahead, dashing into the tiny wavelets. A bit like the kids the day before playing ‘last one to the break smells of poo’. Same, same, different as they say.

Anyway, Mr oceanswims appeared and took Suanne off to find deeper water where she could start swimming more quickly. Damn, the only way I would be able to get near her time was if we walked the whole course together… not to be. Seriously, you do have to be careful running out through the shallows because there are lots of little ripples and some pot-holes in the sand. I did ask a lady who had fallen over if she needed some help but she was waving me and others on into the water; apparently she did hurt her ankle and was taken out by the surfies but changed her mind and did the swim anyway. Deserves a special medal I reckon, well done for guts and determination.

Duck hand.

The colour of the sea, Part XXIV.

Actually back to all the Freshie/Curly stuff up front. The one thing they did have in common was the fact that they both featured a duathlon, though in Freshie’s case the running was mandatory not optional. Felt like we ran out about 100 m before the water was deep enough to swim in. I know I’m not fit when the run-in gets me out of breath for the swimming, I’ll have to start jogging as well as doing a few laps.

I did the Freshie swim last year too and this year it felt like there were significantly more swimmers. I’m very pleased for Freshie and for the people who come and enjoy what is a gem of a beach. However, it might be worth the organisers thinking about starting us off in more than one wave next time 'round. Even the long run-in didn’t really split out the crowd and given it’s a relatively short swim the crowds at the buoys were on a scale the Sea Eagles would’ve been proud to see at Brookie.

The visibility today was superb, like those travel brochure pictures of Caribbean waters we used to perve over in the depths of a Belfast winter…. magical and seemingly unreal. Oceanswims.com has been pre-selling the clear, clear water of Freshie and she didn’t disappoint. Even out at the farthest point of the course you could still see the sandy bottom. It was like floating over a desert, you could see the sand below, rows of little ripples that a sirocco wind has driven forward. Beautiful.
How did my swim go? Fine, no real stress. I even got the ‘Avalon feeling’, albeit on a much smaller scale, where the swell was picking me up, carrying me forward and gently laying me down in the water again. The leg down the southern end, under the Queenscliff headland, was harder work than the rest, going nowhere slowly. God knows why, there’s probably some marine/oceanographer reason for it, buggered if I know. It just felt that I was swimming in treacle, albeit beautiful clear treacle if you know what I mean.

Swimming back up the beach on the last leg I was convinced that I was in about 3ft of water. I stopped to see if I could stand up, but of course couldn’t. Reckon it was about 7 or 8 feet, water’s deceptive like that isn’t it.

What also deceived was the location of the last turning buoy; I certainly wasn’t the only one to completely miss it. Swimming northwards up the beach I kept looking for the orange globe (as opposed to the pinky-purpley-pointy buoys that were used at every other turn) that meant home-stretch, get ready to run. But I couldn’t see it. No matter, follow everyone else, works every other race. But not in this one as a lot of us missed the last buoy and under direction from the surfies headed back out to sea again. Déjà vu.

There’s been a few races where the buoys have been hard to see and I did notice oceanswims.com has got itself a nice, shiny set of big-boy buoys; the hard-to-miss-in-the-ocean ones. Would be nice if some of the clubs availed themselves of these big fellas. They’re there for the asking and it would make it a lot easier for us swimmers; why wouldn’t you?
After my second spell of heading out to sea, it was round the orange football and back in, bit of a 100 metre trot up to the friendly and welcoming people handing out our times. Met Chris, the neighbour-but-two at the finish line. Chris had my North Bondi experience at Freshie, ie lack of preparation (caused by complacency in my case) makes a swim harder that it should be. There’s always North Steyne in two weeks, Chris.
Thanks to Freshie SLSC for a swim with a lovely atmosphere; everyone seemed like they really wanted to be there, helping out with a smile and a sense of humour. Special thanks to Ian Wallace who promised to keep the sharks away from me and I didn’t see any so he must have, eh?
Back to where I started, the favourite child, Freshie or Curly? I can’t answer that question (and anyway I’m the only damn fool asking it). Just as your kids sparkle in different ways so too did the two swims shine for their own reasons.

Today was a pleasure, an easy swim round the bay, sun shining, water virtually flat, visibility perfect. North Curly in December was a slog, grey, cold, choppy (managed to get that into a swim report when the water couldn’t really have been flatter, it’s a habit now), bloody hard work. Pleasure vs satisfaction.

Like chalk and cheese but both immensely enjoyable (particularly after the event in the North Curly case). But there aren’t many more, as the end of the season draws close, especially for those of us who don’t travel out of Sydney to swim (with you there Dave, family commitments and weekend swims up the coast don’t sit well together). It makes each swim the more precious. In November, the calendar stretches into infinity, the possibilities endless. No more, for me it’s North Steyne, Tamarama, good night. For all of you getting in more than that hope I sincerely hope you enjoy them all, as much as all the previous ones have been enjoyed.
I’m thinking you only really miss it when it’s nearly gone.

Looks like Catherine is playing cats. We'll call her ... Cat.

Dangerously close to a breastroke position.

Breastroke position.

Another breastroke position.

The colour of the sea, Part IV. Catrin Jonsson on her voyage of self-discovery.

Michael McLellan was good enough to send us some pics from Balmoral, along with his course from his very own GPS in a prophylactic. Thank you, Michael. And here is Michael's miniature -- Mini-Mick -- emerging from the harbour at Balmoral.

Portrait of the artist as a grumpy man ... who'd have thought that a bloke who looks like this in real life would be the artistic genius that is Glistening Dave?

Good Freshie pics by Glistening Dave, others by oceanswims.com. Balmoral pics by Michael McLellan, or someone associated with Michael.

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