To the lighthouse

... and back to shore again

(The tl;dr – too long, didn’t read – version: I swam 2.6km on Sunday and it went well!)

When you swim in Wellington Harbour, the little white lighthouse at Point Jerningham is the Ultimate Destination. Some people swim there immediately from Freyberg Beach on their first go (a 2.6km round trip; there’s a map below which I’ll get to in a minute) and then continue to swim that same distance every weekend. Those people are much faster and better swimmers than I am. Barb, my swim coach, would probably say this is partly because I’m not keeping my head down enough. But I like to see what’s going on around me! (My mum told me that as a baby I would lift my head up in the pram regularly, curious to know what was happening in the outside world. There is a black and white photo of my little face peeking over the side of the pram.)

Anyway, ‘sighting’ is important as a sea swimmer. There are no black lines along the sea floor to guide you and it’s very easy to swim off-course. You’re supposed to pick a point in the distance (in the harbour, it’s usually a buoy) and aim for it, checking every so often that you’re still on course. It’s easy to get distracted by other things and discombobulated by open water and shifting currents.

On Sunday I had arranged with Dennis* (*names have been changed throughout, for the most part) to swim to the lighthouse. Dennis is a gentle giant who looks after everyone in the sea, especially newbies. When I joined the group last spring, he swam with me in the harbour as far as I wanted to go (which wasn’t very far). He’s the one who reminds us all to relax, have fun, jump off the pontoons in the summer, do handstands by the shore, feel the rhythm of the waves on a windy day, and just have a frolic if it’s too choppy to swim. He’s swum to the lighthouse many times, but when I mentioned my goal to get there he said he hadn’t done it for a while and suggested we slowly swim there together on March 5, taking along anyone else who wanted to join in.

I’ve been very inspired/impressed reading about all the people (many of them Wellingtonians, like me) who have recently swum across Cook Strait, Lake Taupō and Lake Wānaka (we’re talking 20-40km swims, taking anywhere between 4 and 15 hours). I thought, if they can manage that, surely I can do 2.6km? But it wasn’t so much the challenge of the physical distance, which I was pretty sure I could manage, it was the mental barriers. For me, this meant a conveyer belt of worries:

a) What if I swam into a lion’s mane jellyfish and got badly stung?
b) What if a swell suddenly picked up when I was far from shore?
c) What if a GIANT SHARK appeared? (to flip the perspective here, I know people who go diving and hope to see sharks!)
d) What if a pod of orcas appeared (which can happen and looks amazing in photos but would actually terrify me because they are so big)?

… Anyway, you get the idea. But the core worry behind all these little what-ifs was:

What if I panic?

I’ve had three panic attacks in my life and they were all awful. Your breath heightens until you can’t breathe at all. Being told to calm down in the moment doesn’t help. It’s like being on a treadmill on its fastest speed. Fortunately I recognise the warning signs now (sweating, cold hands, tingling skin) but I’m not sure there would be warning signs if I locked eyes with a giant marine creature or began to surf on a rogue wave. I don’t swim alone, but I wouldn’t want to burden anyone and also they might be in the middle of their own crisis!

However, on Sunday morning I felt a quiet determination. My mind and body were calm. I also decided to wear a full-length wetsuit, which I have only done for swimming one other time (for my seaweed swim event), because I didn’t want feeling cold to be a reason for turning back too soon.

But when I arrived at Freyberg Beach, Dennis said he wasn’t swimming to the lighthouse after all – there was someone else who needed help that day, and he was going to stay with them.

“I guess I didn’t need the wetsuit today after all,” I said to Natalie, who was standing next to me waiting for Barb’s usual 8am pep-talk before we all got in. Dennis had told me that when Natalie joined the group two years earlier, she’d been terrified to get in the sea. But this summer she had started swimming to the lighthouse, a huge achievement for her.

“Why don’t you swim with me and we’ll see how we feel at each buoy,” she suggested.

Below is a map that’s shared on the Wellington Ocean Swimmers Facebook page and was plotted by swimmer and oceanographer Aitana Forcen-Vazquez (I haven’t met her yet but have linked to her podcast Swimming the Strait in previous posts). The purple dot on the beach is the starting point, and the 3-4 orange dots are the buoys people generally swim past en route to the lighthouse (the white polygon at the top-right of the map). For those familiar with Oriental Bay, the blue dot is the fountain.

Natalie and I swam together to the first buoy, the second buoy, the third buoy (my previous limit), and then what’s known as the turning buoy (the orange star on the map above) – the final turning point before the lighthouse. By that stage, I had seen nothing in the water but the occasional moon jelly (blobby but harmless) floating below me like pale saucers. The sea was calm. It was overcast and I was glad I’d worn my wetsuit (although the neckline was starting to chafe) because the further out we swam, the colder it got and there wasn’t much sun. The wetsuit also made me more buoyant, making it easier to swim.

At the turning buoy (about 1km offshore), there were four of us: Natalie and Alan, who had both swum to the lighthouse several times before, and two of us who were about to attempt it for the first time. Even getting to the turning buoy was quite exciting and a few high-fives were exchanged.

The lighthouse was about 300 metres away, at Point Jerningham where it’s a little more exposed and the water is slightly choppier.

“You want to keep going?” Natalie asked me.

“Yes,” I said with determination.

We set off. “I’m doing it!” I thought. All summer I had imagined getting there but it had felt unobtainable. I’d told myself that I didn’t need to rush, that it could wait, but really … what was I waiting for? I was fit enough and I couldn’t assume the opportunity would be there indefinitely. Life/The World had felt so unpredictable for the past few years.

Stroke after stroke after stroke…

When I’d driven into town along the coast that morning, an old song had come on the radio by Collective Soul called The World I Know. It’s about finding beauty and hope in the world when times are tough, and in certain reflective moods I find it quite moving (and it takes me back to my mid-90s teen years), so I replayed it in my head as I swam.

I tried to swim straight but not look too often at the lighthouse because it took a bit of time to get there and I didn’t want to get frustrated. But suddenly, there we were and the others cheered for the two of us who were reaching it for the first time. I’d made it! Natalie reminded me to swim around it (it’s not big) so I could say I’d “swum round the lighthouse”.

Here is a photo of the little lighthouse (taken from Point Jerningham, where the purple line is on the map above).

…And for historical context because I’m a pharophile (lover of lighthouses), here it is being constructed almost a century ago. Photo from the Evening Post, 1929. National Library.

While we were bobbing next to the lighthouse, the Bluebridge ferry began exiting the harbour, and the ship’s movement caused a swell to head in our direction. Oh no! But Natalie said, “It just causes little waves and it’ll stop in a minute.” And it did.

I was eager to start the swim back because I knew it would be harder than the swim out. And it was, but also not as hard as I’d feared because I was with kind people and we were all doing it together. We could pause whenever we needed to. And on the beach was a kiosk (Gelissimo’s) with great coffee and banana bread and cheese scones waiting.

During all that swim time my thoughts drifted and expanded, and I thought about how lucky I was that I could do this, not just to be able to swim that distance but to be there, in the harbour, with this amazing free and open swim route that was pretty much there anytime I needed it. I was also grateful for my husband supporting all my swims (and there are many), giving me the time and space to do them because he knew it would make me strong and happy, and all the other people who have encouraged me and swum with me over the past few years.

Once we were back on shore, a mere hour and a half after departing it, I peeled off all my neoprene and staggered over to Barb’s car. “Barb, we swam to the lighthouse!” “And wasn’t it easy,” she smiled, handing me my car keys and two Jet Plane lollies (which always taste amazing after a big swim).

At the kiosk everyone was so happy for the two of us who had completed our first lighthouse round-trip. We got called the “lighthouse girls”. There were hugs and high-fives. I wasn’t even the slightest bit cold. Now I see why people wear wetsuits! But I still enjoy the feeling of the water, so I think I’ll mostly stick with togs. Also, I got quite bad neck chafing from the wetsuit – a circular red ring that looks as if I had a narrow escape from a noose. I know there are lubricants you can buy so I will definitely invest in them before my next big swim. In fact, I caught myself mulling over the Lake Taupō swim (43km) later the same day!

A few days later, I was back at the pool for the first time this year. Pool – easy! I felt like the king of the world. Then Barb told us to swim 4x 50m lengths just using our legs. It’s not far, but swimming with no arm movement and only kicking is haaaaaard. By the second lap I was puffing with tired legs, and, as my grandmother used to say, taken down a peg or two. There is always more to learn, and further to go.