I just spent a week in Melbourne. It was my first trip overseas since a visit to Queensland in January 2020, when Australia was reeling from its Black Summer and we were hearing about this new thing called the coronavirus. Anyway, fast-forwarding through the completely uneventful three years that followed, it was a great feeling to finally dust off my passport and visit a country that wasn’t my own. I am very familiar with Melbourne, but it was my 9-year-old’s first time there and she was very excited by the convenience stores (!), shopping, and general big-city vibes.
Meanwhile, I was excited about the rooftop pool that we had access to as part of our apartment booking. On my first morning there, after I woke at 5am (7am NZT) and took the lift up to the 10th floor, I stepped outside and was greeted by a panoramic view of the city. A southerly breeze blew fresh and I shivered as I lowered myself down the metal ladder into the cold pool water.
Except it wasn’t cold at all; it was at least 30°C, even warmer than the indoor pool I usually train in. I was relieved, because it was a pleasant entry. I was also a bit disappointed, because I didn’t get the frisson froid (is that a real term? if not, I’m claiming it) that comes with being immersed in cold water.
Despite the hospitable temperature, no one else in the building seemed interested and I had the pool to myself, twice a day, for the entire week. Bliss!
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I did manage one open water swim, on a day trip to Mornington Peninsula, which is about an hour’s drive south of the city. The peninsula is quite large with Cape Schanck at its tip which has Victoria’s second-oldest lighthouse (1859), made of limestone, 100m above the sea and overlooking wild surf breaking over rocks in Bass Strait.
Much too wild for swimming, but further up the coast is a lovely golden-sand beach called Safety Beach which really speaks for itself. No one there was swimming but some kids played on the sand. I waded into the emerald water, anticipating a chill factor from the south-facing Strait, but nope – warmer than Wellington, probably about 17°C. I had a lovely dip with lots of little spotted fish darting around, and fan-shaped seashells dotted along the seafloor. Before getting in I’d felt a bit hot and travel-tired, but afterwards was revitalised and refreshed. I also treated myself to a hot chocolate from the kiosk in the carpark next to the beach.
Lined up along the beach were a dozen or so beach huts (or beach boxes), colourfully painted. It is a dream of mine to have a little beach box: I would look after it, lovingly decorate it with trinkets, write in it, think in it, and sit on its steps with a post-swim coffee and watch the rhythm of the tides. But the reality is that these tiny wooden boxes cost well into the six figures (in Oz and also in NZ) in the rare times they even go on the market (many are passed down the generations, like family baches). So I will just admire them from the outside.
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I’m now back in Wellington, where it’s drizzly and autumnal, muggy and soggy. On Sunday morning I swam in the harbour in a full-length wetsuit and I am trying not to be hard on myself about it, but I am wearing it to swim longer distances through winter. I really love my long Sunday swims, which I started in October last year, and I don’t want to cut them short or suffer through a long afterdrop afterwards while chatting over a post-swim coffee. I still plan to do dips all winter in togs, though.
On Sunday the wind was still, with heavy grey clouds practically touching the water. As I swam I saw nothing until I reached the third buoy, about 700m offshore. “Did you see all the jellyfish?” my swim friend asked. “Nope,” I replied. But then on the way back, BAM! In my face, a white alien cloud came out of nowhere, followed by more slo-mo undulating asteroids, aka moon jellies, as I carried on swimming. But still, I got off pretty lightly as back on shore another from our group talked of just sighting the biggest jellyfish he had ever seen…
In summary: warm pool plus golden sands plus wetsuit = soft swimming, more mild than wild. But they were happy swims, with beautiful views.
P.S. I got talking to someone this week who is visiting from Europe and she told me about a swim she once did in Silfra, Iceland, between two tectonic plates, in 2°C water with a clarity of 100m. (She wore a drysuit for this adventure.) She happily showed me a photo on her phone: in it, she was suspended as if flying, in the bluest, deepest of water. (Here are some Google Images to give you an idea.) Anyone want to travel across the world and try it with me sometime?
P.P.S. In the news: NZ ultra-marathon swimmer Jono Ridler is doing a 100km swim (approx. 35 hours straight) this week to raise awareness of the declining health of Hauraki Gulf in Auckland. More here.
Mild swimming
Your joy reminds me why I do this on days I forget. Silfra looks stunning.