Chopper 2020

View of Plimmerton and environs from the plane

Two weeks ago exactly (give or take 12 hours) I walked through a chilly southerly to morning squad at WRAC, and on my way home stopped off at Countdown to pick up the remaining supplies for my Chopper Swim trip: apples, dried apples, peanut butter, penne pasta, Snackballs, dinosaurs, two tiny tins of tuna, and a packet of cherry tomatoes. After lugging this repast home, and pottering around for a while, preparing for work the next day, I took a bus into Lambton Quay for my pre-event massage.

The numbers of cases of Covid-19 in New Zealand were increasing; a few days earlier all international travellers coming into the country were officially required to go into self-isolation for two weeks, and cruise liners had been banned, as had large gatherings of people. The most recent message from the Chopper Swim organisers was that we would go ahead: our group size was relatively small, and the risks were also small. The only fly in the ointment at that stage was a rough-looking forecast with strong winds (going in the wrong direction) for Friday. Still, I was well-prepared, had my nutrition ready, my kayaker ready, and thought that if Chopper 2020 was the last open-water swim event for the year, well, I would do my best to make it a good one.

As my bus had zoomed into town - were there possibly fewer people travelling? - I arrived very, very early for my appointment. I went into Whitcoulls to keep warm, and drink one of the upstairs cappuccinos, renowned for excesses of cinnamon. Checking my email for the address of the sports medicine clinic, a Chopper email sat at the top of the list, WSC2020 - Cancellation Notice'. The organisers, seeing that the situation kept changing, and suspecting that further restrictions would emerge, had taken the most sensible decision and cancelled Chopper. It felt a little surreal, to be waiting for a pre-event massage, the last step in my physical preparation, and to find out that the event was cancelled. Very odd. Anyway, I kept the appointment and had an excellent massage!

On the way home  I started to think about the people who had already put up sponsorship money for the Auckland Rescue Helicopter. I felt certain they would understand the circumstances, but still, it was a lot of money. The obvious solution was some sort of swim in Wellington, so I hit upon the idea of doing 10km in and around Oriental Bay, come the next pleasant southerly. The positive response was very cheering in the circumstances: several people, including donors, said they would come and join in. I still felt disappointed in a way, but the feeling was more perplexing; I certainly didn't resent the organisers' decision because it was the correct decision, but a sort of emptiness and confusion dominated my response. Still, onwards and upwards...

Facebook post about 10km in Wellington

At the same time, news came in that a concert with a chor scheduled for 5 April, and with rehearsals beginning the next week, was postponed. At the same time, we learnt that the NZSO was suspending its season, and Orchestra Wellington had rescheduled concerts. A tangible sensation of doom began to descend. More people coming into New Zealand were testing positive for Covid-19, and it was no longer a faraway phenomenon.

As my travel and accommodation on Waiheke and in Auckland were booked, I decided - probably recklessly - that I would travel all the same. I contacted the Fur Seals in Auckland and heard that they were planning a swim of about 7km on Friday morning, and I asked if I could join in. Some people were also planning a 20km swim on the North Shore, but for logistic reasons that wouldn't work for me.

After packing my food, my swim stuff, various sundry articles, a small bottle of Dettol, and quite a bit of hand sanitizer, I embarked for Auckland on the morning of 19 March, skipping squad at WRAC so as to have a sleep-in. Squad would still be there next week, after all! Wellington Airport seemed much quieter than usual (and it's rarely frenzied). I went straight to my gate, where there were about six people sitting around. The gates were definitely quiet. My plane landed, and it was surprising to see so many of the disembarking passengers wearing face masks. On my flight (I had a row to myself) the plane was maybe less than half-full. I disinfected my hands carefully before risking life and limb with the Air NZ coffee and biscuit.

Waiting for my bag to arrive in Auckland, the domestic terminal seemed eerily empty. I think the last time I'd seen it like that was at 5am in January 2016, when I'd just arrived back from London, and after four uncomfortable hours perched sideways on a massage chair in the international terminal, trying to sleep and look after all my luggage at the same time, I tottered through the balmy Auckland pre-dawn to await my flight to Wellington.

The SkyBus also seemed pretty empty, and I distanced myself appropriately from the other passengers. Alarmingly we stopped at the international terminal, and a number of passengers boarded. For some reason, instead of finding non-adjacent seats to the existing passengers, most of them sat as close as possible. I decided not to breathe until we reached the end of the route.

My seat on the upper, open deck of the Waiheke ferry felt much safer. A treat, really, to breathe in all that nice sea air. On either side of the ferry terminal were moored two big (but not vast) cruise liners, empty, and preparing to leave NZ waters.

The journey to Waiheke was windy, and rather strange. To see where we'd swum the previous year felt pretty surreal, especially seeing the breakwater that signalled the lefthand turn into the finish of the swim. I remembered how disorientated and excited I'd been to make that leftward turn, and how suddenly the whole thing was finished. While reminiscing, and trying to take a photo of the vista, the ferry's horn (is it a horn, or a hooter?) blasted right beside my head, and I nearly lost my phone in the drink.

In fact, throughout the quick ferry trip, I felt slightly amazed to see the route of the previous year's swim. It looked like a really long way, and yet I couldn't remember anything of it. Simultaneously I was amazed by 2019 Corrina, and sad that I couldn't do it again, and take in more of the scenery, and also (strangely) relieved that Friday wouldn't be quite such a big day after all!

I walked up to the Kiwi House again, just like last year, and could remember the route. And, once more, arrived in a hot sweaty mess. Auckland is just so warm. After washing off all the travel germs, and swallowing some more Vit. C, I made my pasta and tuna, and prepared for the next day.  The plan, communicated by Roger, commodore of the Fur Seals, was that I should be on the 6.30am ferry, and meet him at 7.15am by the terminal. From there, we'd go to Judges Bay to start the swim. Last year the proprietor of the Kiwi House must have thought I was nuts, tying up my drink bottles with string, cutting lollies into quarters, and bringing my own porridge. This year I seemed probably more insane, arriving at 5pm, but booking a taxi for 6am the next morning.

This year the mosquitoes displayed great enthusiasm for my flesh. The night seemed to take a long time, as mozzie after mozzie whined past my ear, while I enshrouded myself in a sheet leaving only my eyes, mouth, and nose uncovered.

Eventually, arrggk, eventually, 5.30am arrived (I think, in fact, I'd been asleep for five solid hours, with some more broken sleep before that!) The little mozzie varmints had taken full advantage of my face: three bits on my chin, two on my cheek, two or three on my nose, and two on my forehead - symmetrically, on either side of my nose. Still, they didn't really itch.

Ingesting a quantity of porridge and preparing my drink bottle (only one bottle needed this year, unlike last year's four bottles ... you see, silver linings) took some 20 minutes, then the cab arrived. While it was a longish walk uphill from the ferry to Kiwi House, the downwards trip in a car took all of four minutes. The ferry was waiting (phew!) and I could take my pick of seats. I positioned myself far away from everybody. Meanwhile, the regular passengers all clustered together in a Covid coven. Strange.

The rendezvous with Roger and Jennifer worked perfectly, and we sped along to Judges Bay. Other Fur Seals were busying themselves with wetsuits and tow floats. Despite the poor forecast, it was a glorious morning, sunny and seemingly pretty still. Delightful, too, to meet the Fur Seals I had known only via Facebook. Juliet kindly agreed to store my bags in her car.  Some of the Chopper movers and shakers came down to see us off, and distribute swim caps, and take photos while we awaited the arrival of our intrepid kayaker.

The Swim
This was just my second proper swimming experience in Auckland. The initial plan was to swim across Judges Bay, alongside the railway track, and through the 'gut' before turning left. I heard alarming mutterings about sharp things under the water, oysters and rocks and bits of wood, oh my.
Hence, I embarked upon the swim utilising my most decorous breaststroke. Quickly it became apparent that there was a tide in operation. As we came through the gut and prepared to head under the railway line, the tide made it clear that I could do nothing else. Fantastic - it picked me up, and carried me under the bridge in a stupendous and almost unnerving manner. Spat out on the other side of the bridge, we regrouped, and learnt the next stage of the route. This involved swimming alongside some vast posts that enclosed a marina. The tide still exerted quite a pull, and adding to this thrill were the rapidly blackening skies and increasing breeze. Making my way along the long row of blackened posts towards a breakwater/jetty the climatic phenomena strengthened rapidly. Soon the rain pelted down, the wind whistled, and the chop grew. Our gallant kayaker was bouncing all over the place, but exerted a masterful control over his vessel. The jetty disappeared in the rain, but luckily it also had lights on it.  I took a pause just before it, and received an instruction to go under, rather than around the end of, the jetty. Once again the tide did its work and I had another fast ride.

Again we regrouped, the next landmark being Tamaki Yacht Club. It sported a rocky outcrop, I heard, so taking a wide berth around it was advised. Mindful of my history with sharp rocks, I took a very generous route indeed, and noticed - once I was in line with the Club - that the rest of the Fur Seals were much closer to shore than I was.

From this point we followed a course of various markers, moving along Mission Bay and Kohimarama, before setting a line towards an invisible buoy at St Heliers. Luckily the water tower on top of the hill provided a useful landmark. I should add that after the earlier dramatic squalls the weather had become far friendlier. There was barely any breeze, and apart from a few more heavy showers, the rain held off. From the buoy near St Heliers, the next point to reach was the famous White Stick, and from there, Ladies Bay just around the corner. I almost overshot our destination, thinking that the goal was actually around quite a large corner, so it was pleasant to find we'd reached the end.

What a wonderful swim! Warm water (although the final 1km was much cooler), warm air temperature, pleasant scents of tropical flowers, and then a ride back to Judges Bay, and then to Juliet's house for hot showers. Breakfast took place at Source.

So, while it was not the swim I'd been thinking about for so long, it was still a great swim. I met in person some generous, friendly, welcoming swimmers, enjoyed new scenery, relished the warm water, and consumed some great French toast. What more could anybody want from a swim?