Splash and Lumber: Summer 2021-2022

You can't beat Wellington on a good day!

Although I don't really go along with 'seasons' in relation to open-water swimming - after all, every day is perfect for something, some days are just a little chillier - the summer season here in Wellington is marked out pretty well by Splash and Dash. This is a great series of swim-only or aquathlon events, run by the Barefoot Triathlon team. From late November into mid-March, we assemble fortnightly on a Wednesday at Freyberg Beach for some feats of strength. The swim-only events involve laps around the pontoons and fountain, and the swimming runners do either one or two swim laps and then hurtle off somewhere on a run. They generally look completely done in when they finish, and very sweaty. My 'dash' is confined to unsteady lurching up the beach to the timing mats, and that's it.

Way back in the late 90s, my father took part in these events but believed me to be too young and foolish to participate. This was something of a sore point because I was the faster swimmer. Anyway, at some stage one February or March, he was away, so my mother decided I could have a crack at a swim/run.  It just involved one swim lap, and then a 'run' out to Point Jerningham. A couple of other girls from Capital Swim Club were there too, but despite our swimming credentials, we found the sight of so many MAMINs* very alarming.  The starter, during his briefing, suggested that anybody 'aquatically challenged' should place themselves at the left-most end of the beach for the start, to avoid being mowed down by massed neoprene-clad masculinity, so the three of us started as far to the left as we could possibly go. Needless to say, once the swim started, we had to spend the entire lap navigating around all the wetsuits, and after a few hefty kicks to the head and neck, I did the lap breaststroke😆 until we were nearly back in and I found clear water to accelerate into the beach. Swim over, I experienced the challenge of trying to tie shoelaces with cold, wet, shaking hands, and then set out on my 'run'. The less said about that the better ... but I made it to the end, and it felt as if my lungs were only slightly bleeding. My mother took me to the Parade Cafe (then located in a cute two-storey wooden house opposite Freyberg Pool) for a recuperative hot chocolate. Apparently, the sight of the three little girls cowering at the far end of the beach, then dodging and weaving through the field, was extremely entertaining for the parents watching from the sea wall.  

I think that was my first and last open-water race until 2017 ... 

After returning to Wellington in 2016, it took me until February 2017 to enter for a Splash and Dash race, and I think it was the final one of the season. The weather was gorgeous, and although it was a northerly, there was no chop as such, just lovely rolling waves. Experiencing my first massed start in a long time was an adventure (I had repaired, once more, to the left-most end of the beach). The sun was also very bright, which meant sighting the pontoons was tricky, and I resorted to the odd bit of breaststroke to see where I was going. Nevertheless, I got around the 2km course in 34:43. 

The 2017/2018 season rolled around, and by that time I knew quite a few more people in the open-water scene, so Splash and Dash became something of a social as well as a racing fixture, as well as a great antidote to PhD work. We had some races with smooth water, and some with a hectic chop, and I became (a) better at sighting, and (b) more aware of the specific challenges posed by different conditions. A full year of squad training helped me to drop time, and my fastest swim was 31:57. The organisers introduced two longer races, out to the 1km buoy near Pt Jerningham, and I recall one of these took place in a delightful swell (but against an incoming tide) and the other in raucous chop.  

The 2018/2019 season distinguished itself with every sort of terrible weather: screaming northerly gales that made the event too risky to run (it's supposed to be 'fun' and not off-putting to newer/nervous open-water swimmers). Again, another year of training, and lots of extra swimming in preparation for the Chopper Swim had given me a bit more speed, and my best time was 30:43. Only one 'long swim' happened, in really hectic conditions. I remember a fast swim out to the 1km buoy next to Rebecca and realising how big the chop was when I'd breathe and see her swimming along, but seemingly metres above me. On the way back we lost each other, but I had a good race with a spindly child who had huge reserves of energy, an awe-inspiring stroke rate, but inconsistent navigation skills.

Nature likes to give with one hand and take away with the other, or vice-versa, so in 2019/2020 we enjoyed all eight races. Of course, we didn't anticipate all the other strife that 2020 would bring, so happily believed that the good racing conditions were the harbingers of a great and significant year. Well, I suppose it offered plenty of significance and some elements of greatness, but not in the ways we expected. After achieving a couple of times in the 30:00 range, my subconscious suggested that swimming a <30:00 race made a great goal, and to my surprise, Race 7 involved chasing an 'unfit' Anna Marshall around the course (admittedly in her new wetsuit) and clocking 29:35. I did wonder whether I'd expire in the changing rooms, but the scorched lungs and burning triceps were outweighed by general joy. 

After all the slings and arrows offered by 2020, some sort of equilibrium had been achieved by late in the year, and the return of Splash and Dash for the 2020/2021 season seemed to indicate that apocalypse might be delayed by a few more years. As Rebecca and I were preparing for our great excursion across the Strait, October and November involved significantly more training than in previous years. My record-keeping also took a further step in the direction of obsessiveness, as I started keeping notes about the conditions for each race. The first event, in November 2020, took place in a southerly with 'uneven' water.  I think this meant that there were smooth bits, and then very sloshy that made choking a hazard, and I got around the course in 29:51. As the conditions continued to be inconsistent, with stronger southerlies, and - for one race - a southerly that suddenly swung to a gusty north-westerly minutes before the race started, the times were also a bit up and down. My slowest was a 32:12 in 'OK conditions - strong southerly' and the fastest 28:28 ('low tide, good push to the fountain'). It felt good, having set the target of <30:00 the previous year to then achieve <29:00. Despite the interesting hypothermia interlude on 25 March, I felt all keyed up for the final Splash and Dash of the season a week later, but heavy rain and stormwater/sewage contamination in the harbour meant a last-minute cancellation.

2021 brought a few surprises with it, but once again it felt pretty good to reach November, and dive into the racing season again. New Zealand's covid response had moved into a 'Traffic Light' system and the introduction of vaccine passes in late November/early December. The Splash and Dash organisers dealt with the additional health and safety complexities extremely smoothly, setting up different transition areas that prevented too much crowding. Once vaccine passes arrived on 3 December, they became mandatory for participation, and all together, these measures provided a good sense of security. Mainly we were all just happy to have some events to participate in! 

Once again, I'd been doing quite a bit of swimming, including several double-session days a week, and felt keyed up and ready to go. I was thrilled to swim 28:02 in the first event. Event 2 had been scheduled for the following week, by which time I'd done my 'Relocated Swimathon' and sandpapered all the skin off my neck. Carefully bandaged, I decided that I could get around the course without too much additional chafing, and it very nearly worked until 90% of the bandage apparatus came adrift during the third lap, leaving my poor neck vulnerable to more excoriation. I thought I'd got away with it, until I went into Freyberg for a shower, and the hot water touched my neck. The pain was eyewatering. I could not speak, or even really see properly. Only when I staggered through the kitchen door and could apply ointment and a new dressing did the searing calm to a burning throb level. I decided not to swim the next day and give my skin a full day and a half to dry out and scab over. Happily, the skin had healed by 13 December.

Post-Strait, the weather until after Christmas and into January refused to cooperate, offering northerly gales, torrential rain, and contamination. Finally, we did get a Splash and Dash at Hataitai in early February. 

I did not acquit myself well in this race: first, we swam as a pack in the wrong direction, and when everybody suddenly veered right, there was a melee involving a lot of thrashing and kicking. At the first big turn buoy another fracas occurred (a kick to the armpit really hurts) and after untangling myself from my assailant (maybe I assailed him?) Rebecca had sped off. I nearly caught up as we turned for lap 2, but then had a startling encounter with an exceptionally long mooring rope and got seaweed in my mouth (I think it was seaweed). 

Finally, a massive choking incident slowed me down on the final burst into the beach. Thinking I could, just, catch Rebecca if I pinned back my ears (and coughed up whatever was lodged in my throat while still swimming fast), the last 50 metres caused considerable physical distress, compounded when I reached the sand, stood up, and promptly tripped over a rock and went sprawling. Getting to the timing mat involved climbing stairs or a ramp, and then skittering over gravel. The toe that hit the rock first looked very purple, and the choking incident caused highly unusual throat sensations suggesting imminent haemorrhage.  

The final five races of the season, held weekly until the last one, all required better performance. We worked out a new 'race strategy' (or something) that involved going around together, pacing each other, until the final leg (fountain to beach) which would be no-holds-barred.  Over several races, this approach worked pretty well, generating some good times, all <29:00 and a new best time (in a dead heat) of 27:54. 

Race 7 took place against the backdrop of significant clouds of very black smoke from the insurrection at Parliament, and indeed, all of the last three races involved crowds somewhat subdued by the omicron wave. 

The final event took place yesterday, in a strong southerly with huge looming black clouds that compromised visibility. Rebecca was taking a day off, in preparation for her forthcoming Big Swim so I raced Mike instead, enjoying a lively duel during parts of laps 1 and 2. 

To conclude: first, much appreciation of and gratitude to the organisers and water safety crew for giving us such a good season and series. Covid and its variants keep offering new challenges, which everybody is dealing with in their own way. Wanting to keep racing during this time seems a little self-indulgent, but these little pockets of 'normalcy' mean a lot now. 

After emerging from the water following my little warm-down wallow, I declared the summer season officially over. Bring on winter!

There's also great photography!