Saturday 15 February: Matiu-Somes Swim
A promising weather forecast 48 hours before the swim filled every heart with hope, and when I woke up at 5.02am on Saturday and could not hear the merest whisper of wind I felt more optimistic about the extreme darkness. I heated my porridge, which had been soaking overnight, and prepared a water bottle ... all without switching on the kitchen light because there was an injured hen asleep in a box by the screen door. I didn't want to wake her, up, and she made fractious noises when the microwave door clunked shut. By 5.35am I was waiting - somewhat early - outside the Pak & Save petrol station for my ride out to Petone. We were at Petone Beach by 6.06am.
This was truly a goggles at dawn scenario. The sun was barely visible, but the wind was entirely absent, and there was a tiny chill in the air.
Lots of swimmers milling about, registering at the desk, inflating tow-floats, rubbing lubricants on their necks, applying sunscreen, scoffing bananas etc, etc, etc. IrishKiwi swimmer kindly covered my back in sunscreen as we watched the sun gradually appear above the hills behind Days Bay. At 6.30 surrendered my bag to the logistics vehicle, enjoyed the swim briefing, and hopped about to keep warm before our wave's 6.50am departure. Two waves would depart from Petone to Matiu-Somes: the first at 6.40 and the second at 6.50.
Finally, it was time to start. The tide was way, way out, so we walked/hopped/skipped until the water was over the knees. A couple of swimmers tried a shallow start, but their hands and knees hit the sand, so they resumed walking. As I started to swim, the warmth of the water was startling, and I had a lovely view - until my goggles fogged up - of the sun creeping up over the tops of the hills.
It felt like a fairly long way to the island, although less long than last year. My arms hurt for a while, which initially irritated me until I recalled this was just the warm-up section of the 3+ km, and I should forget about it or think about something else. Sure enough, after what I estimated to be 1km, I noticed that all the ache had gone and I could happily cruise along. I experimented with various variations in pace: 5 strong strokes, 5 relaxed ones, 12 strong and 8 relaxed, 8 relaxed and 12 strong etc. Patterns and variations make me happy.
What made me less happy was the person (in a wetsuit), a true virtuoso on the toe piano, who drafted off my feet for what seemed like most of the way. I could tell this character was drafting, because if I ever reduced my speed fractionally, their hand ended up on my foot. Here we had a very large expanse of sea to swim in, it was a non-race, and still somebody (a triathlete, I suspect 😋😋) was on my feet. Finally, I indulged in some monstrous kicking, and whoever it was disappeared. However, by this stage I could clearly see the ferry at the jetty so we must have been about 400 metres away.
I'll indulge in a moment of tedious moralising by suggesting that if you're out on a nice recreational swim which isn't billed as a race, but you want to put on a bit of speed, focus on catching up with and overtaking the swimmers ahead of you, but give them a little space. In a race, we're all prepared for some hurly-burly, close contact, and finding individuals drafting of us, but this swim to Matiu-Somes wasn't about beating up or irritating your colleagues. Homily over.
Having reached the island, and tottered precariously over the large pointy stones on the shore, we gave our numbers to the safety person, refuelled with fluid, half-bananas, and wine gums. I had imagined that I was all by myself out at sea (apart from the drafter) so was surprised to see a number of Wave 1, and a number of Wave 2 swimmers coming in. The swimmers who had come across on the ferry from Queens Wharf to swim around the island were all ready to go. It wasn't particularly warm, so as soon as we had permission to set off on the circuit of the island, I did so.
The figure-of-eight between the two islands, and around Mokopuna Island went well: I avoided the rocks and the giant mussels. Two close encounters with pointy rocks adorned with giant reposing starfish provided enough excitement to last me for several weeks. Being whooshed through the gaps by the swell also thrilling.
The journey south, along the western side of the island, was uneventful. My goggles had fogged up, and the sun was in my eyes. I did enjoy seeing the silhouettes of trees against the sun/sky though. Rounding the rocky area at the southern end of the island provided great views of the city, and out through the heads into the Strait. At the southern end of the island sat 'Serenity', the boat containing a number of volunteers who took our numbers. Rebecca was nutrition officer, and doled out water and more wine gums. Never underestimate the excitement of a swimmer when a feed stop draws near. I don't think there's any other time when wine gums taste so good, even with a salty mouth.
At this point I also encountered Geraldine, who zoomed off fairly promptly without - I think - indulging in any wine gums!
After rounding the next rocky outcrop, we were on the home straight - the eastern side of the island. This is where the current stops being one's friend, and becomes a nice opponent. Last year, as I recall, this segment was more of a struggle: the trees on the island, to my left, were nice to look at, but didn't seem to move very fast. I also recalled an encounter with a large and unexpected rock last year, so I took a wide course, so wide that a kayaker bellowed at me.
The current and the little splippy-sploppy waves provided the perfect opportunity to engaged in resistance training, so instead of getting cross with the chop, I engaged dynamically with the space and thought about technical issues. To my surprise, the trees started moving again, and I caught up with and overtook several bobbing tow-floats. Then, in the blink of an eye, I was around the corner and at the beach. This swim, btw, was 'tow float compulsory' and this is a great idea. Not only are the swimmers more visible to the safety crew, the tow-floats provide some support for any swimmer feeling uncomfortable or crampy. Finally, tow-floats make swimmers far more visible to each other, and this is very cheering: when the light or the swell or the chop would otherwise make you feel a little isolated, and make it difficult to see a swimmer's cap or arms, the brightly coloured fluoro tow floats look friendly bobbing along.
As the rocks are so painful, I swam in until I was lying on them, and then carefully levered myself upright, and walked only on the larger, flatter rocks and old bits of brick. My number was ticked on the list, I had some water, half a banana, and a few more wine gums, and it was time to head for the ferry. Once everybody was on board (more or less) we set off for the city. A penguin was spotted from the boat, but I missed it.
By 10am we were on Queens Wharf and ready for coffee. What a great day! I think I covered about 6.7km. Big thanks are owed to Jen Rose (who organised this event) and her volunteers who helped with safety and logistics.
This was truly a goggles at dawn scenario. The sun was barely visible, but the wind was entirely absent, and there was a tiny chill in the air.
View from Petone foreshore, looking towards Mt Victoria and Miramar Peninsula. Support crew getting their briefing.
View from Petone foreshore towards Matiu-Somes and the Heads. Support boats ready to set out.
Looking from Petone Foreshore towards Days Bay and Eastbourne with the sunrise over the hills.
Lots of swimmers milling about, registering at the desk, inflating tow-floats, rubbing lubricants on their necks, applying sunscreen, scoffing bananas etc, etc, etc. IrishKiwi swimmer kindly covered my back in sunscreen as we watched the sun gradually appear above the hills behind Days Bay. At 6.30 surrendered my bag to the logistics vehicle, enjoyed the swim briefing, and hopped about to keep warm before our wave's 6.50am departure. Two waves would depart from Petone to Matiu-Somes: the first at 6.40 and the second at 6.50.
Finally, it was time to start. The tide was way, way out, so we walked/hopped/skipped until the water was over the knees. A couple of swimmers tried a shallow start, but their hands and knees hit the sand, so they resumed walking. As I started to swim, the warmth of the water was startling, and I had a lovely view - until my goggles fogged up - of the sun creeping up over the tops of the hills.
It felt like a fairly long way to the island, although less long than last year. My arms hurt for a while, which initially irritated me until I recalled this was just the warm-up section of the 3+ km, and I should forget about it or think about something else. Sure enough, after what I estimated to be 1km, I noticed that all the ache had gone and I could happily cruise along. I experimented with various variations in pace: 5 strong strokes, 5 relaxed ones, 12 strong and 8 relaxed, 8 relaxed and 12 strong etc. Patterns and variations make me happy.
What made me less happy was the person (in a wetsuit), a true virtuoso on the toe piano, who drafted off my feet for what seemed like most of the way. I could tell this character was drafting, because if I ever reduced my speed fractionally, their hand ended up on my foot. Here we had a very large expanse of sea to swim in, it was a non-race, and still somebody (a triathlete, I suspect 😋😋) was on my feet. Finally, I indulged in some monstrous kicking, and whoever it was disappeared. However, by this stage I could clearly see the ferry at the jetty so we must have been about 400 metres away.
I'll indulge in a moment of tedious moralising by suggesting that if you're out on a nice recreational swim which isn't billed as a race, but you want to put on a bit of speed, focus on catching up with and overtaking the swimmers ahead of you, but give them a little space. In a race, we're all prepared for some hurly-burly, close contact, and finding individuals drafting of us, but this swim to Matiu-Somes wasn't about beating up or irritating your colleagues. Homily over.
Having reached the island, and tottered precariously over the large pointy stones on the shore, we gave our numbers to the safety person, refuelled with fluid, half-bananas, and wine gums. I had imagined that I was all by myself out at sea (apart from the drafter) so was surprised to see a number of Wave 1, and a number of Wave 2 swimmers coming in. The swimmers who had come across on the ferry from Queens Wharf to swim around the island were all ready to go. It wasn't particularly warm, so as soon as we had permission to set off on the circuit of the island, I did so.
The figure-of-eight between the two islands, and around Mokopuna Island went well: I avoided the rocks and the giant mussels. Two close encounters with pointy rocks adorned with giant reposing starfish provided enough excitement to last me for several weeks. Being whooshed through the gaps by the swell also thrilling.
The journey south, along the western side of the island, was uneventful. My goggles had fogged up, and the sun was in my eyes. I did enjoy seeing the silhouettes of trees against the sun/sky though. Rounding the rocky area at the southern end of the island provided great views of the city, and out through the heads into the Strait. At the southern end of the island sat 'Serenity', the boat containing a number of volunteers who took our numbers. Rebecca was nutrition officer, and doled out water and more wine gums. Never underestimate the excitement of a swimmer when a feed stop draws near. I don't think there's any other time when wine gums taste so good, even with a salty mouth.
At this point I also encountered Geraldine, who zoomed off fairly promptly without - I think - indulging in any wine gums!
After rounding the next rocky outcrop, we were on the home straight - the eastern side of the island. This is where the current stops being one's friend, and becomes a nice opponent. Last year, as I recall, this segment was more of a struggle: the trees on the island, to my left, were nice to look at, but didn't seem to move very fast. I also recalled an encounter with a large and unexpected rock last year, so I took a wide course, so wide that a kayaker bellowed at me.
The current and the little splippy-sploppy waves provided the perfect opportunity to engaged in resistance training, so instead of getting cross with the chop, I engaged dynamically with the space and thought about technical issues. To my surprise, the trees started moving again, and I caught up with and overtook several bobbing tow-floats. Then, in the blink of an eye, I was around the corner and at the beach. This swim, btw, was 'tow float compulsory' and this is a great idea. Not only are the swimmers more visible to the safety crew, the tow-floats provide some support for any swimmer feeling uncomfortable or crampy. Finally, tow-floats make swimmers far more visible to each other, and this is very cheering: when the light or the swell or the chop would otherwise make you feel a little isolated, and make it difficult to see a swimmer's cap or arms, the brightly coloured fluoro tow floats look friendly bobbing along.
As the rocks are so painful, I swam in until I was lying on them, and then carefully levered myself upright, and walked only on the larger, flatter rocks and old bits of brick. My number was ticked on the list, I had some water, half a banana, and a few more wine gums, and it was time to head for the ferry. Once everybody was on board (more or less) we set off for the city. A penguin was spotted from the boat, but I missed it.
By 10am we were on Queens Wharf and ready for coffee. What a great day! I think I covered about 6.7km. Big thanks are owed to Jen Rose (who organised this event) and her volunteers who helped with safety and logistics.
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