Coogee-Bondi

Dawn over Giles point at Coogee ... can you see the Immaculate Apparition on the point by the fence?

And dawn over Wedding Cake Island ...

Orginizer Mermaid Jo and friend.

It's Sunday morning. In the old days, mugs would go down to The Domain to hear their favourite orators spruiking their theological wares. These days, they come down to Coogee, where the latest fads in religious gurus send their followers into raptures, telling them to go forth into the ocean amongst God's creatures without fear. And their accolytes, raising a bit of moula on the side, wash their feet ...

Tacoma Jim was very brave in agreeing to allow Peter "McGoo" McRae to escort him from Coogee to Bondi as paddler. The last time McGoo navigated for someone, he took Colin Reyburn and families from Stanwell Park to Sydney via Bulli.

Warmer in than out ...

Even when I arrived at Coogee this morning at dawn, the pond-like conditions were still not enough to convince me that today's swim from here to Bondi was going to be as easy as it looked. Sea conditions over the latter half the past week, coupled with the swimmer-unfriendly forecast of what was supposed to amount to a gale-force headwind left me still feeling reserved despite Coogee Bay looking so flat that Wedding Cake Island looked to be only a stone's throw away.

As swimmers, paddlers and escort craft began to fill the beach, the gentle but chillingly persistent westerly breeze maintained the lingering sense of uncertainty about how this journey was going to go, given the underlying sense that conditions were supposed to get worse soon. Still, the sight of Coogee Bay in such a fine condition was quite refreshing as I watched the first rays of sun catch what little break there was lapping away at the far edges of Wedding Cake. Expecting the feared and weather-bureau-assured headwind to come soon, I simply wished that the start could somehow be moved forward.

Wetties, wetties everywhere, so none of them will sink ...

The sun stayed hidden in cloud right up until the commencement of the pre-race briefing, when Mermaid Jo was able to carry out the proceedings in the widely-welcomed warmth of the sun. Before I knew it, it was nearly time to start yet there was still no wind to speak of. Things were looking very good indeed and the feeling around the water's edge was lifting.

The kayakers departed the beach in a stringy procession and the swimmers splashed in about five minutes after. The start of this swim brought blissful relief as I found it much warmer to be in the water than standing around waiting to get into it. Making easy progress away from the shore, I found my mind soon drifting away to memories of various late-November forays out to and around Wedding Cake Island. Frothy visions of myself and countless others punching into peak after peak in that relentless southerly swell, for which this morning's effortless passage must surely be some sort of payback from some swim goddess, maybe even the work of Mermaid Jo herself for making the effort to muster us out into this bay at the other end of the swim calendar.

Out past the squinty surreal mayhem of the checkpoint area to find my noble kayaker, Peter McCrae, who assures me that he saw me first. Am I that easy to spot? The whole scene is a South Head Roughwater flashback, minus the acrid stench of two-stroke exhaust. Heading North now, and passing Dunningham Reserve I was relieved to find that there was still no headwind. From that point on the concern would never again surface and I felt instead like I was getting away with something today, sneaking away with a comfortable ride on a road that was expected to be bumpy and long.

Some lovely bent arms on recovery, here, not to mention buoyant bottoms. Cat McAlister, take note (of the arms)!

Hardly needed a wettie in water in the early 20s. We trust the wettists swam in a separate division.

What cool wind there actually was soon became the enemy of the fleet of support craft as it forced the paddlers to work harder, in some cases to actually paddle in reverse in order to both guide us and to keep clear of us at the same time. For reasons such as this, the importance and efforts of support kayakers really came to the fore in today's swim, and they would receive due recognition by a hearty round of applause at race's end up at the Bondi Icebergs. The trip up the coast was then a matter of sticking with the support craft and staying on line with the marker buoys.

I must say that the sight of Waverley Cemetery from sea, myriad little white crosses and well-weathered headstones all illuminated in the morning sun, was much more prominent and enjoyable than it was thirteen days ago when I believe we passed it heading in the opposite direction on our dark pilgrimage to Clovelly on that gloomy, waterspout-dotted Easter Monday. Mermaid Jo darted up and down the course riding pillion on a jetski as she checked on our progress.

Just after Tamarama, some good grippable water finally eventuated. My kayaker, forever frustrated with my workrate, was then pleased to see me finally putting a kick on. McKenzie's Point means the same thing to me every time I race here: home ain't far away.

So on this unexpectedly comfortable day, I am even greeted at the race finish by some prize dumpers just to give me the bite from the sea that I had forgotten all about. The finish area was just another quadrant of busy Bondi Beach; a nondescript chute lined with Australian flags and unending applause for every finisher. Not a public address system or timing mat anywhere. All of our gear, transferred here from the start back at Coogee, was being delivered down to the sand, bag by bag, from the distant carpark by a stream of already-finished swimmers. They were all making trips to and from Terry McGee's pint-sized vehicle, into which he somehow managed to shoehorn every item of gear for 65 swimmer/paddler teams. Some prominent swimmers who did not swim today, Terry McGee and Peter Long just two examples, instead carried out shore support roles to help make this event go off so very well.

Thanks in fact to all those who pitched in to make today go so well.

Tacoma Jim Goins

Terry McGee and his pint-sized vehicle transported the gear for all contestants from Coogee to Bondi.

Glad to see you.

Just another few strokes ... I'll getcha ...!

Organiser Mermaid Jo laid on the full gammut of razzamatazz for the Coogee-Bondi swim, including a visiting dance troupe to welcome the peloton to Bondi.