On a remote patch of the east coast of the North Island is a tiny, salty settlement called Castlepoint, with a permanent population of just a few dozen people (numbers swell a bit over the summer, with holidaymakers). Captain Cook visited the area in the late 18th century and commented on its “remarkable hillock” that looked like a battlement, naming it Castle Point Rock. Lining the beach are a smattering of houses and a general store. It’s an hour’s drive from the larger town of Masterton, and after winding through myriad hills and valleys, past farms of grass-munching sheep, you may feel a sense on arrival that you’re tip-toeing at the edge of the world, particularly during winter when everything but the ocean is quiet.
Castlepoint is not my home but I feel a part of my soul resides there, or at least my DNA, because it was the home of my ancestors (my father’s mother’s father’s parents) when they first arrived in Aotearoa from London, via the Auckland Islands (that adventure can be found in a book of mine called Trial of Strength), in the early 1850s.
My father, brother and I spent a few holidays in Castlepoint during my childhood in the 1980s and I mainly remember two things: walking to the store for lollies and ambling up the salty stairway to the lighthouse, which was built in the early 1900s.
I have a soft spot for remote places and lighthouses, and Castle Point Lighthouse is a beauty: a tall, whitewashed Edwardian clifftop beacon for storm-tossed ships.
We visited last week but I didn’t swim; for one thing, I hadn’t packed my togs in the car (a rookie error for a seasoned wild swimmer), but also I didn’t feel confident strolling into the biting waters alone. There’s a strong current that has taken more than a few lives over the decades and centuries.
Due to the rain and wind, most of my family, not avid beach-goers at the best of times, opted to remain in the car, aside from a quick dash into the store for treats. But my youngest daughter (with bribery) and I raced up to the lighthouse and touched its white tower, with the wind whipping our hair and the sea breathing all around us.
During my visit there was a double rainbow over the lighthouse. Aren’t rainbows amazing? I hope I never lose that feeling of wonder and joy I feel when I see them, multicoloured refracting prisms via droplets of water in the air.
Marine Ecology
I started my Marine Ecology course at university last week and wow, I have a lot to learn! The lecturer was whipping through Powerpoint slides and rattling off so many new words that trip off my tongue: Brackish, Flagellum, Pelagic, Trophic. Most I’d heard before but I couldn’t have reliably explained what they meant. For assessments I’ll have to complete two lab reports, two tests, one academic essay, and one longer essay reflecting on how this all fits into my Master’s degree. A bit daunting when it all sits there in a list, but it should be okay if I chip away week by week.
I attended my first science lab last week and immediately ruffled academic feathers by showing up without a lab coat. It appeared to be a misstep on my part: I was supposed to know that attending a lab = owning a lab coat. I felt a bit like Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada when Meryl Streep looks meaningfully down at her grubby old loafers in the high fashion office. Gulp! Anyway, I’ve borrowed one now so I will look the part, even if I don’t feel it yet.
Poll results
Thanks to everyone who voted in my ‘life choices’ poll last newsletter on whether I should go for a work placement over the summer or begin a thesis. The consensus was (drumroll…) overwhelmingly for the thesis (the placement option had one vote and it was mine, just to test that the poll worked!). So watch this space.
Mixing up the swims
While a swim routine is good for regular exercise, there’s a risk that it can get a bit predictable, so I’ve been trying to mix up both the pool and sea swims. On Saturday morning I made it to Barb’s 6:30am pool training session, something that had felt beyond me for some reason. While rising in the dark before 6am was challenging, the lanes at that time are 50m long (normally they are 25m but are adjustable) and it made such a difference – at first it felt very far, which is odd because it’s not like the sea has such limits, but after a few bleary-eyed laps I felt the stretch-and-glide motion kick in and there was more space between me and the other swimmers, so I wasn’t tickling anyone’s toes or vice-versa.
I’ve noticed lately that my ocean swims have become more bobbing and chatting without really deciding anything around that, it’s just more fun to bob in cold water than to wrestle on a wetsuit, and I also worry about getting caught out if the cold kicks in too far offshore.
The winter social swims continue with a local and very relaxed Matariki swim series underway, organised by the same person who set up the Christmas swims last December. Basically she announces dates, times and locations, and people can show up if they want to. Perfect! Matariki is the Māori New Year and last year it also became a public holiday.
I was also reminded of the importance of mixing things up when I swam last Sunday morning at a different location: Scorching Bay, with a small, golden-sand beach that is popular in summer and very quiet in winter as it’s dog-free, so unless you go for a swim or take a small child to dig in the sand you’re probably somewhere else. I spent about 40 mins in the sea, probably a winter record for me (in togs); the water was silvery and glassy with no wind and a slight drizzle between showers. Four of us bobbed around chatting for a while, then some of us swam 80m out to the orange buoy. Afterwards, the nearby cafe brought us hot coffee and cheese scones while we shivered in thick clothes, jackets and hats, some of us clutching our lovely pet-bed warmers that serve as hot bricks for post-swimming warmth.
Ice swimmers
I think 8°C is the coldest water I’ve been immersed in and wouldn’t want to be in temperatures much lower than that, but 8 is tropical compared to what some hardy swimmers have just endured in NZ’s Open Ice Swim Champs last weekend, down south in a very very cold lake (ice swimming is below 4.5°). Thirty-nine competitors participated, with the top distance being 1.6km (an ‘ice mile’) and no wetsuits allowed.
One woman was airlifted to hospital with hypothermia but is apparently keen to return next year and give it another go! Would you? What’s the coldest water you’ve experienced? I recently watched the UK Body of Water documentary online (trailer here, full movie here – you need to sign up first but it’s free) about Gilly McArthur, an incredibly inspiring ice swimmer and mountain climber (not just because she does those things but also because of her campaigns for mental health and conservation).
Interested to read of your marine ecology course, particularly as I had just replied to your comment about the bull kelp. Marine ecology is so important. We need to protect that beautiful unique underwater world and we can't do that without understanding it. I commend you.
As to how cold I've dipped in? 10 is my limit and I'm unable to winter-swim at all without a wetsuit. My body just shrivels. I read where the first question they ask you in cases of hyperthermia, to determine whether you're stricken, is your phone number. So I repeat my phone number over and over as I swim...
And re pools, I think they're a lot harder to handle - one is not as buoyant for a start. And I'm not mad on the heat, it's exhausting. I tend to leave a pool much much tireder than in the ocean. What do you think?