Sunday, 8am. One of my favourite feelings, while driving around the coast to Freyberg Beach on a sunny Sunday morning, is seeing the earlybird swimmers gliding across the sea’s surface with their bright caps and tow floats, and knowing that I’m about to join them.
Apart from the usual boisterous spring weather we are sometimes gifted a day with no wind, and in the calm sea there is a nice surprise: the two wooden pontoons/rafts about 50m offshore have been restored for people to jump from (from April to October they’re removed and replaced by white buoys). The fountain is on, shooting water up to the sky, and the coffee kiosk is buzzing.
I walk into the the water and enjoy stretching out to swim, the rhythm, the teal water, my body rippling the surface, the sloshing of my arms as they circle around, the camaraderie and comfort of others around me doing the same. I’m starting to swim further out again, past the pontoon, the first buoy, the second buoy, and trying to take it gradually, but I can feel the summer approaching like a warm glow as I swim towards the morning light.
***
Thursday, 7pm. The wind-whipped grey surf is slapping me in the face. An intermittent sun has finally slipped behind the hills, cooling the air temperature further. Twenty of us, mostly in wetsuits, are swimming through the grey chop as instructed. Around every sixth stroke I raise my head a little to check my direction and get a shower of spray.
This is the first session of a new outdoor swim group which runs from late spring to early autumn, and I’m trying out a casual lesson to see if I like it. The coach comes out with us in a kayak to give tips and drills, which I appreciate, but tonight he is struggling to stay upright and it’s tough to hear him over the wind. Every now and then he calls over to ask if I’m okay and I do a thumbs-up. As in, yes, I’m still afloat. My arms are tired, I’m feeling tense, and my inflatable tow float is bopping me on the head, its strap around my waist tugged by the current.
We’ve been advised to breathe out underwater while swimming to help us relax, and so we don’t gasp for air when turning. “Look at your nose bubbles under the water.” This is a good tip. But my technique has gone out the window and I feel my arms flailing with no form, my legs dragging behind me, my whole body fighting the surf. I keep stopping to tread water. I’m cold, even with the wetsuit.
My mean voice kicks in: You’re a terrible swimmer. Hopeless in the sea. Can’t even handle a bit of chop!
“You’re swimming really well,” says a friend who is swimming alongside me tonight, even though she’s a much faster swimmer, and her kind words knock against my nasty self-talk like two boats bumping in the sea. I try to turn things around in my head: I came out tonight to try a new group, in gale-force winds, after several nights of broken sleep. Of course it’s challenging!
My friend, whom I admire for her ability to carry on and quietly achieve all her swim goals, has some words of wisdom: “Instead of fighting the waves, turn sideways into them while you swim. It’s a game-changer!” This is one of the great things about open water swim groups, apart from fun and adventure and new friends: these little nuggets of advice. Everyone has them, no matter what their level.
After an hour I’m relieved to get out, change shiveringly next to my car boot, head home, shower and hop into my PJs for some TV time (Fall of the House of Usher on Netflix). Order a hot pizza for delivery. Listen to the wild wind howling outside in the darkness and feel glad that I went, grateful for kind friends in the sea, and happy to snuggle with my fluffy dog in the warm lounge.
*
Sunday, 5am. My phone alarm chimes in the darkness. Blackbirds and tūī are beginning to chirp and warble outside. For a fleeting moment, I consider rolling over and going back to sleep. But then I remember my swim bucket, all packed in the car to minimise morning effort; I’ve even spooned some coffee and sugar into a mug waiting downstairs in the kitchen.
After some slurps of caffeine, pulling on togs, sweatpants, jersey and crocs, and creeping ninja-like from the house, I’m driving along the empty roads and spot the almost-full moon, giant and yellow and sinking over the western hills. The sky is slowly lightening and the city is bathed in a purplish dawn light when I reach the beach. There’s about a dozen of us, here at 6am today because some people wanted to swim before the big rugby match (which won’t end well for NZ). After a southerly low the air is cold, less than 10 degrees, but because it’s almost November the water is warmer than that – maybe 14? Balmy! Or at least, not brain-freeze-inducing.
But the best part is, the surface is flat and glassy, clear and a light blue. The faster swimmers all zoom off towards the lighthouse and a few of us do a loop around the second buoy, about a kilometre all up. I’m suspended in a silent world of blue, and feel as if I’m dreaming. As we return to shore the city skyscraper windows are ablaze with the reflection of a golden morning sun. No coffee and chat – it’s not even 7am so the kiosk is shut – and I drive home looking forward to a hot shower and some porridge, and maybe heading back to bed…
*
A few ocean-related life updates from me: 👩🔬 🐟 🐌
1. I've finished my marine biology paper and have learned so much, even though I was quite overwhelmed by all the new terminology at the beginning. Amazing what they can pack into a 12-week course, from microscopic microplankton to blue whales, bright corals and deep sea mysteries. All my grades are back now except for a 6,000 word essay I wrote about the course.
2. For my summer work placement (the final stage of my Master's) I will be working with the Natural History team at Te Papa, the Museum of New Zealand, with a focus on fishes! I start next week.
3. I've been looking for an ocean-related tattoo idea for a while and recently discovered the existence of violet sea snails, which blow bubbles to float on the sea surface. They have beautiful purple shells. I'm booked in to finalise the design in a few weeks with Zoe at Shadow Gallery in Greytown. I love her artwork. And then I'll get it inked after I've finished my summer swim events.
Beautiful evocative writing Shona, you’ve inspired me to try and update my little swimming / outdoors Substack!! It’s lovely to hear about and remember my magic 18months in NZ via your writing. That dawn chorus! Nowhere else in the world sounds like it! Winter coming here in the UK and the lake temperature dropping fast, definitely a mind over matter time of year.
Brrr. I am so inspired by your dedication. I wish I had the oomph to swim weekly.
I swam last week and because I always ditch the wetsuit in October, I just tried with the radiator top. Bearable and burning cold at 13.5 water temp but no hope of sinking my head under, so will just have to buy a helmet, I think.
I've noticed many folk now swimming with the tow floats and thin k its a great idea, especially as I mostly swim on my own, although lately have asked husband to be an eye on the beach.
Love the violet seasnails, always thrilled when one turns up on the beach.
Good to read your words again, Shona. Happy swimming.