Spreading our arms

Wellington returned to Level 3 on Wednesday 1 September, coinciding with the first day of spring, and this meant a joyous return to the sea, and socially-distanced swimming. A bunch of us hared off to Worser Bay to immerse ourselves. The weather excelled itself, with sunshine and light winds, making for an afternoon that appeared not just spring-like, but summery. Worser Bay never disappoints, anyway, in any weather.

As a group, we'd debated some of the Level 3 guidance for sea swimming, namely that one should swim at one's nearest beach, rather than one's favourite beach. Some rationalisation occurred, as we weighed up the pros and cons of (a) safety and (b) proximity. The eventual compromise was that the nearest beach (for example, Owhiro Bay) mightn't be the safest. Thus, Worser Bay - being reasonably local, clean, and safe - seemed a good bet.

The two weeks of Level 4 had been my longest break from swimming since ... Level 4 in 2020. But that had been many more weeks than this year's mere fortnight. How would it feel? Well, oddly, my arms felt far more spaghetti-like after a fortnight out of the water than they had last year after a month out of the water. Where 2020's reimmersion had felt a little like being reborn, this was more of a struggle against uncooperative physiology. That said, we managed one good return lap to Seatoun, and a lot of jollity. The experience of pulling my shorts and jacket on over my wet togs, and pedalling home seemed very familiar, but as I learnt, September is a bit chillier than May.

I swam with a few people at Worser Bay on Thursday 2 September, and then on Friday 3rd joined a different socially-distanced group, instigated by the famous MountainSnail at Freyberg Beach. Being ready to swim at 6.55am necessitated quite an early start on the bike, but this was rewarded by a glorious early-morning ride. Seeing Kilbirnie Park, and the Marist field covered in substantial frost at 6.15am should have warned me that perhaps the morning was chilly, but the full extent of this chilliness didn't manifest itself until after our c. 2km swim in sea that was probably 10 degrees. Pulling on some clothes over my togs in the Freyberg car park while being raked by an ice-infused breeze meant that by the time I had to zip my jacket my hands refused to cooperate in any meaningful way. Pulling on my cycling gloves, over five numb, stiff digits also had its moments, as did trying to hold my handlebars. A few hardy souls loitered in the carpark with their thermos flasks, standing 1.5 metres apart, but I decided that home/shower/coffee would be my only salvation. Some brisk cycling quickly started the thawing process and by the time I reached home, only my feet still felt like iceblocks. 

This pattern, alternating between Worser Bay and Freyberg continued throughout Level 3, and on one day I even did a morning at Freyberg and an afternoon at Worser. As ever, the early mornings yielded a range of conditions of varying degrees of excitement. One very windy morning provided lively chop in the water and the frolicsome zephyrs then conspired to propel me (on my bike) straight into one of the big Norfolk Pines in Oriental Bay Parade. No lasting harm. 

 

On the last day of Level 3 ongoing northerly gales saw MountainSnail's trusty crew relocate to Hataitai for one of the coldest short swims I've ever experienced. The much shorter ride home from Evans Bay was not long enough for significant thawing, and I tottered through the door on uncooperative feet, only to find that the hot water had failed, and nothing more than a tepid dribble trickled from the shower head. That, friends, is a provocation to deep and enveloping depair.