Coast to Coast

I signed up for this ride last year but it was cancelled due to high winds. I felt the need to make amends by doing it this year on Gracie the trike as I’d not done a long ride on Gracie for a very long time and I have been told that this was the ride to do. I ignored the fact that I hadn’t done a long ride for a very long time. I just accepted that my body would probably rebel in the days after

We started just after dawn at Glenelg. I arrived early and watched the crowd of cyclists gather in the gloom and drink their body weight in coffee. I wasn’t surprised that I was the only trike rider, trikes like mine are very rare here. I’d got used to the sideways glances and the surreptitious photos. I know that it is Gracie attracting the attention and not me.

The ride started by skirting the city and for this part we had a Police escort. I had the feeling that they were trying to keep us all together so that we wouldn’t overly disrupt the flow of Sunday morning traffic. Every now and again a police motorbike would come up on the outside to keep us in place. There was a lot of pointless jockeying for position during this section.

Once free of the city and the free way we were let loose on the hill. I’ve been up this climb many times but never on the trike. I had a feeling that it was going to be hard work but the reality was very different. It was just a case of selecting the right gear and working my way up. I always assume that I’m going to be the slowest on the road so it is always pleasant to overtake someone. I overtook quite a few. A lot more overtook me and some of them gave Gracie an appreciative look before speeding off into the distance.

The first aid stop didn’t have any food. This was a bit of a disappointment as I’d not had any breakfast. I didn’t actually need anything to eat at this point but my thoughts whilst climbing the hill had been dominated by fruit cake. I felt slightly aggrieved. I filled my water bottles and set off for the next section

As we had climbed to the high point of the ride everything else had to be downhill. I knew that that wasn’t going to be true but it certainly felt like it as I rocketed down some of the long slopes. There was one truly terrifying descent. It was fast and windy with a horrible camber and a nasty road surface. If I’d been on two wheels it would have been exciting but on a trike, it becomes a white-knuckle ride. Just to make it a little more terrifying my shoe lace decided that now was the time to come undone and wrap its self round the peddle. This effectively stopped me peddling and gave me an excuse to stop. I needed to get my heart rate to something resembling normal.

The next stop did have food, I had a breakfast of fruit cake and banana, washed down with a small carton of orange juice. It was the breakfast of champions.

I was expecting a big hill before the next stop, I’m sure that it was mentioned on the route sheet. The road started rising and I kept thinking that this was the precursor to the main attraction. It was quite a surprise to get to the aid station without having gone up anything significant. I settled into the buttered cold cross buns that were on offer. I started wondering whether I would gain weight on this ride. I felt that I shouldn’t eat too much as the hill must be just around the corner and I didn’t want to decorate the road with my little snack.

The hill appeared but what I hadn’t realised is that we had to go down it. This was a relief, right up to the point where I had to take the sharp right hand turn at the bottom in front of the crowd of police and marshals. If there was any place where Gracie was going to throw me off it would be here in front of an audience. It’s one thing being thrown off a trike, it’s another to do it in front of people.

It was getting close to the end of the ride and in my mind everything should be downhill. It should be but I knew that there were still a few opportunities for a hill to slip in. Then we took a sharp right and the road went up hill. I started pressing on the peddles but my legs rebelled. The one advantage of a trike on a hill is that I can stop without falling off. I stopped and cursed loudly, that being the only known cure for cramp. The pain in my right leg slowly subsided. I thought I’d eaten enough bananas to prevent this but obviously that was not the case.

After all the painful climbing the route took a dive to the finish. There may have been speed limits and it’s very possible that I may have broken them. I have no way of telling but it felt like that. The descent gave me an excuse to compose myself before the finish.

I crossed the finish line and instantly Gracie got all the attention, I left her to give interviews and pose for photographs whilst I went in the hunt for another banana.

Port Elliot Open Water Swim

A lovely day in Horseshoe Bay

I like swimming at Port Elliot and whenever I get a chance to swim in Horseshoe Bay, I take it. Today’s excuse was the annual open water swimming event organised by the Atlantis Swimming Club. There was a choice of doing one lap or two laps of the course. The organisers were at pains not to mention the distances as people had complained in the past that the course was either too long or too short. I’d entered the two-lap event as it gave me more time in the water.

We started level with the substantial jetty. There were a lot of people in the water and the turning buoy wasn’t that far away. I could see that the same though was forming in many people’s heads. It was going to be messy. I positioned myself behind the fast boys hoping that they would clear the way and that I could draft behind them. The reality was slightly different. They disappeared into the distance the moment the air horn went, leaving me with a clear bit of water for the few seconds it took for all the people behind me to catch up.

A few people not racing

I was pleased that I managed to swim straight to the buoy rather than taking my usual meandering course. I managed to round the buoy without being pummelled by anyone else. That was a plus. Then it was into the long stretch to the point. This is where to pack starts to lengthen and I can get into my stride. I felt like I was flying down this part of the course, I suspected that I was being helped by the current or the wind. The water had some lovely ripples in in that I knew some people would describe as waves. They just added to the experience.

I was almost at the end of the leg when I felt a sharp sting on my arm. I wasn’t expecting that. It hurt like a string from a nettle. No one had mentioned jellyfish or other creatures with malice and ill-content on their minds but I couldn’t think what else it could have been. The pain subsided quickly and before long in was forgotten as I concentrated on going round the right-hand side of the next buoy.

Look! two pink buoys

I started singing on the way back to the Jetty. I’d see a band last week and there was a part on one of their songs that I couldn’t get out of my head. I thought I had done it, only for it emerge when I was least expecting it. At least it had a rhythm that was compatible with my stroke rate. I rounded the next buoy singing loudly in thought “oh ja mama” over and over again.

When we started the race to the first buoy seemed short but the second time seemed much longer. It took ages to get to the next buoy. I knew that once I passed it I would have a bit of a push down the penultimate leg. I wasn’t disappointed.

I rounded the last buoy and felt that I was almost home. I sighted the pink half way buoy and headed for it. I noticed that there weren’t too many others around me but put it down to it being near the end of the race and the field thinning out. It wasn’t until a passed the life saver on a rescue board that I realised I’d sighted the wrong pink buoy that it all became clear. I was off course, yet again. It didn’t matter though. It is always a lovely swim in Horseshoe Bay.

Organised by…

Unfinished Business: The Rottnest Channel Swim

Swimmers on the beach waiting for their wave to start

We stood on the quay side in the pre-dawn gloom watching a procession of boats heading out to sea and hoping to find ours. We thought there was a boat down there but we weren’t sure that it was ours. “Andy?”, “Yes” came the answer. I wandered over, I’d not seen the boat before but it didn’t fit the description. “Andy?”, “Yes”. Andy looked up, he looked nothing like the Andy I’d met yesterday at the briefing. “I think you are the wrong Andy”, “Well you look nothing like Dave!”. It hadn’t occurred to me that there might be more than one skipper called Andy. The phone rang. “where are you?” asked Andy. “at the left-hand side of the Quay” we replied. “My left” said Andy. We went to the other end of the Quay and loaded the boat: Towels, warm clothes, food, cameras and a crate of beer that we had won at a pub quiz a few days ago.

Scotty contemplating the swim to come

We joined the procession of boats and headed to the start. Mary had done this before and knew what to expect. Andy had skippered many times and knew what he was doing. Scotty, one half of a duo had had a shark aborted attempt last year and had some unfinished business. Somewhere on a beach Julianne was preparing herself to get into the water, she had done this swim a few times and added many classic swims to her palmares since then. I was completely clueless and here for the experience. I covered up my inexperience by hiding behind cameras.

Julianne and the blue arm

The waiting started. We could see the shore but had no idea what was going on over there. Every now and again the radio would announce which wave was starting and a few of the boats would move forward hoping to meet their swimmer and paddler. This was a stressful time. We had to find Julianne before she got to the sailing ship anchored out to sea. If she got there without us, she would have to wait. None of us wanted that. We stood on the edge of the boat scanning the writhing swimmers to see if we could see them. We were looking for a paddler in orange accompanying a swimmer with a blue sock on her arm. We were hoping that no one else would have this combination. After what seemed like an age Mary spotted them a little way out to our left. The tension left the air in a moment. Andy sprang into action and carefully navigated all the other boats and swimmers to pull up alongside. We were on our way.

Our ever patient paddler

Mary was the time keeper, we’d decided beforehand that the swimmers would do forty minutes shifts. It was long enough to have a decent go at it but not so long that exhaustion would creep in. Mary gave the five minutes to go signal. It was nearly time for the first change over. Scotty was eager to get in the water. He’d had a rough lead up to the event. His training had been curtailed by a minor operation and some other personal circumstances. Originally, this was going to be a tandem solo attempt but the pair had decided that a duo relay would be better. He leapt into the water, high fived Julianne and started on his first leg of the swim.

Julianne looking cool

Scotty veers to the right. We found this out quite quickly. We had put him on the left-hand side of the boat and that was a problem. He would slowly veer into the boat until her got far too close. At that point we all shouted at him until he got the message and corrected his course. Putting him on the other side of the boat was problematic as he would slowly get further and further away. Our paddler did her best to heard him back towards the boat with various degrees of success. We found that shouting at him worked the best.

Scotty ploughing through the water

Passing the ten-kilometre buoy was a major lift. We had made it half way. By this time, we had settled into a well-honed routine: Get the swimmer in the boat, feed them, make sure the other swimmer was OK, check the watch every minute or two, give them the five-minute signal get the swimmer back into the water. If it was Scotty, we would give him a target of overtaking someone. That seemed to motivate him more than anything else. Out on the water our paddler was doing a wonderful job of threading our swimmers though the mass of kayaks, swimmers and boat.

Andy started looking a little concerned at the sixteen-kilometre mark. He’d been at the wheel for a long time by then and nature was shouting at him. He needed to “get in the water”. At the same time our paddler asked for some help. She’d been out there for a long time and needed a little bladder relief. The next changeover was in interesting set of logistics with three people having to get in the water within a short period of each other. The skipper of another boat watched all the shenanigans with amusement whilst standing proud and urinating over the edge of his boat.

Julianne doing her swimming thing

A little while later we saw the Irish flag on the back of a boat and the familiar style of Dr. James in the water. He was another one of our group of swimmers but he was attempting a solo. We waved and yelled and gave him the sort of encouragement that he would expect from us.

It was obvious that Scotty was getting tired. He was getting slower; his stroke rate was declining. We were near to the finish. We had a little conference; they wanted to swim the finish together so Scotty would have to get back in the water later. Julianne was happy with doing a slightly longer last session. We gave Scotty the five minutes to go sign. I doubt he realised that we had pulled him out ten minutes earlier than planned. The exhaustion showed on his face as he climbed the ladder into the boat, we had made the right decision. The usually vocal Scotty sat in the chair and silently filled himself with sugary food. We hoped that the prospect of crossing the line would revive him in time. He was returned to his normal self when we pointed out that one of the women in a team that was passing us was swimming naked.

Julianne and Scotty together for the final part

Rottnest was now looming large on the horizon. We had done it. The boat wasn’t allowed too much further. Scotty was prepared, he leapt into the water and headed for the finish with Julianne. Our boat took us to the jetty where hopefully we would have time to unload and see our pair come across the line.

We stood on the Jetty and waited for the two to cross the line together. Scotty’s unfinished business had been completed and Julianne was happy to complete another crossing. Now was the time to celebrate.

Finishing together

The Brighton Jetty Classic

A colourful collection of budgie smugglers waiting for the start

This was the largest open water swim in the area and walking up to the registration it was easy to believe. There were people everywhere and a significant number of them were dressed like Marylin Munro. I’d been told about this beforehand, it was something to do with raising money for charity but it was still quite strange to stumble across a very tall bearded man wearing an ill-fitting white dress and a blond wig.

There was a lot of talk amongst the swimmers that the start had been changed from last year. As I’d not been here last year it really didn’t affect me. I couldn’t see what the problem was. The start was clearly marked, as was the course. I didn’t understand why changing the start from one side of the jetty to the other caused so much consternation.

It was a hot day and everyone was trying to hide in the little shade that was available. This was accomplished by nearly everyone being under the jetty. The idea was that each group would move to the marshalling area and then to the start at their allotted times. This was made a bit more complicated by there not being a visible clock or indication of which group they had got to on the beach. There also seemed to be only four colours of hats. At one point I thought my wave was about to start only to be told that it was a different age group.

Budgie smugglers heading to the start line

Eventually and after a lot of waiting around I got into the water and made my way to the start. It was obvious that there would be a bottleneck at the first turn buoy. It wasn’t far enough away for the field to start spreading out. I chose a place about half way along the start rope mainly because it didn’t seem to be too crowded. The man by the side of me was determined to get every advantage that he could. He stretched as far forward as he could whilst touching the rope with his foot. I felt the best thing would be to leave him to it and follow him to the first buoy, that way he could clear the way.

The dash to the first buoy was as chaotic as I had expected. There were bodies everywhere. I managed to round it unscathed and then headed down the beach, into the chop and the current. I felt that a lot of people had just raced for the first buoy and once there had slowed down as I passed a lot of people in the next few hundred meters.

Working against the chop and the current was hard. I seemed to be putting a lot of effort in and not getting anywhere. The buoys slowly creeped into view and then it took an age to get past them. Every now and then I would look up and see nothing. That worried me as the course was clearly marked so it should have been had to get lost. In reality I’d veered off course and was heading out to the ocean. Other times I would look up and there would be far too many buoys. Again, I’d veered off course and was looking across at the buoys for the return section.

The spectators and officials sat in the shade

The turning point couldn’t have come quickly enough. It had been a struggle up to that point and I was hoping that once I was heading the other way everything would become easier. I wasn’t disappointed. The return leg seemed so much easier, the beach raced by all the way to the final buoy.

The finish was on the beach, the more competitive would run out of the water but that wasn’t for me. Once the water was shallow enough, I got up and strolled to the beach. One person ran past. I looked over my shoulder to see who else was behind me. There was no one. I managed a gentle jog to the finish. I don’t do running any more.

A fat bloke at the finish, happy with his swim

Jetty to Jetty

From this Jetty…

There is something reassuring about doing an event in familiar waters. Today was one of those events. I regularly swim between the two jetties and I knew all of the landmarks. This would mean that in theory I would be able to pace myself correctly. Of course, this is only in theory, in practice I would probably end up either following someone closely and using their pacing or I would be on my own in the middle of the sea because I’d somehow got lost.

There were yellow buoys marking the course but I didn’t really need them. All I had to do was head straight to the other jetty. Straight though is relative as I am not overly good at going in an arrow straight line whilst swimming. My course usually looks like I’ve been swimming along the edge of a saw.

There was quite a current flowing, this was evident at the start line as we drifted towards the finish. It took a lot of effort just to remain stationary. The starter waited for the start wave in front of us to get far enough away before going through the usual procedures. As usual the start was a bit of a mess. It took a while for the mess to sort its self out. I’d found my clear bit of water by then and was happily in my own little world. The current was giving me no end of assistance. This was going to be a fast one.

Did I mention that it was Australia Day?

I looked to the shore and saw the sculpture of the pelican. That was a quarter of the course done. A quick look ahead and I could see the red house that marked half way. It felt quick, it probably was quick. Sometimes I thought that I was stationary and the coast was just flying past. It was around about here that I started passing the slower swimmers in the previous start wave. I like this point as it confirms that I won’t be last. Not last is my favourite finishing position. It wasn’t long before I passed the house with the extravagant stairways. I was now three quarters of the way through. In my mind I felt that now was the time to up the pace and strike for the line. In reality this resulted in a couple of fast strokes before returning to the usual pace. I’m not one for sprinting

The jetty loomed larger and larger as I got closer. The finish mat was strapped to the side and everybody around me was aiming for the same point. I thought I saw my Loved One off to one side but then I was distracted by a super-fast swimmer on the other side who seemed intent on swimming over everyone in front of him. When I looked back there was no sign of my Loved One.

I found my Loved One on the other side of the finish line. She had just pipped me to the line. She told me that she had seem me catching up with her and that had given her the determination to dash for the line. I would have probably done the same thing. We laughed it off over chips and beer at a local pub.

…to this Jetty

Pub to Pub

A lovely place to have a swim

It had been a week since my first swim for a number of months and that is not enough time to get back to fitness. I doubted that the two sessions I’d done in the pool had really contributed much. Today’s race was a handicap, with slower swimmers being set off before faster swimmers. In theory, everyone should arrive at the finish at once. In practice it depends a lot on how honest people are with their times.

My partner and I arrived at the registration tent and found that I’d been given a much bigger handicap than her. She felt that this wasn’t right as I’d not been swimming for a long while. An appeal to the officials resulted in my handicap being changed to something more sensible. In reality as long as I didn’t win the accuracy of the handicap was neither here or there.

Swimming from this Pub, or at least level with it

We lined up in little groups on the beach. The slower swimmers to the fore and the pool swimmers at the back. Every thirty seconds we stepped forward one line until our little group was standing at the waters edge. It was almost time. We were told there was ten seconds to go. Then a count down from five. The others ran to the waters edge and dived in. I took a much more leisurely approach to the water and waded in slowly before finally diving into the water and starting to swim.

The first part of the course took us out into the sea to the first buoy. I didn’t want to rush, I just wanted to get there with as little drama as possible. I was still paranoid about someone kicking me after recovering from broken ribs. I rounded the buoy and could then see all the way down the course. It looked a very long way. More disturbing was that there were a lot of yellow blobs in the distance and I couldn’t work out which one I should be aiming for. I aimed for the end of the jetty instead and hoped the blobs would become clearer as I got closer

Turning just before this Jetty

I tend to veer to the left when I’m swimming. Even though I know this I have never worked out how to compensate for this. For this particular swim veering to the left took me out to sea. The only thing that would stop me straying into the open ocean was a line of surf life savers in boats and on paddle boards. I was quite glad that they were there.

After a while I realised that I couldn’t see anyone around. I could think of a few explanations for this. It was possible that I was in the lead, I hoped that that wasn’t the case. It was possible that I was completely off course, I stopped and had a good look round it seemed roughly right. It could be that the entire race had passed me as I was swimming so slowly, I didn’t think that I’d lost that much fitness. I was very relieved when I saw another swimmer far over to the right.

To finish at this pub

As I slowly worked my way down the course the taste of the water subtly changed. At the start it had seemed think and very salty but as I got closer to the jetty it started to taste a little fresher. Whist I was wondering why this was a small rubber safety boat chugged by and changed the taste to diesel. That was unpleasant.

After what seemed like and age of pulling myself through crystal clear water, I reached the final buoy and turned toward the finish. I was happy that there were people ahead of me but not that many. I reached the waters edge, stood up and felt the pain in my arms. Despite thinking I’d taken it easy my arms testified that I hadn’t. The chaffing under my arms was another clue. Despite that I’d enjoyed the swim and felt that some semblance of shape was returning to my swimming

Some quality hydration and nutrition

Lorne Pier to Pub

Got the T-Shirt and the swim hat

I felt slightly uneasy walking to the start. I was surrounded by people clad in wetsuits and I was taking part in this huge event without one. I’d had a swim the day before and the water wasn’t cold so I didn’t think I would need one. I do have a wetsuit but I have a feeling that it may have shrunk since the last time I wore it so I left it at home.

This was a massive event, there were wave starts over about two hours or so. I stood in the marshalling area surrounded by human seals all in the same colour swim hat as me. The usual nerves were doing their most to make me doubt that I should be here, this wasn’t helped by the fact that I’d not swam in earnest for a good two months owing to an accident that broke ribs and deflated a lung.

I swam slowly to the start line. I’d be advised that the fast people favoured the outside as it was a straighter line to the finish and that the slower people favour the inside as it’s the shortest to the finish. In a fog of indecision and as I felt that I didn’t fit into either group I went for the middle of the line. I picked a place where there were only a few people. I was worried that a stray foot might make contact with my recently mended rids and put me back on the recovery trail. I bobbed in the water wondering how this would go.

Normal Rules apply: wear your oldest event t-shirt

There was no missing the start gun. It was loud, it made me jump. I watched a few of the more competitive people around me power off. They looked like the types of people who would swim over you without batting an eyelid. Once I was sure I was safe I set off. As there was no way that I would ever trouble the podium my race plan was to follow people who were hopefully going in the same direction. Doing this reduced the amount of sighting I needed to do but risked that the people in front could be swimming more erratically than I do.

After the initial chaos of the start everything settled down as everyone found their place and pace. That’s when I started to notice that there appeared to be a swimmer attached to my side. I increased the pace slightly, so did he. I slowed down a little, so did he. He was definitely drafting me and this started to get annoying. I tried swimming very close to another swimmer to use them as a knife to cleave off the parasite. For a few moments I though it had worked but within a minute he was back and glued to my side. I just had to resign myself to the fact that he’d be there to the finish.

At about the three-quarter mark I started seeing different colour caps, I’d caught up with the previous wave of swimmers, this always gives me an intense feeling of satisfaction as it means I won’t be last. Not being last is my favourite position in any race. A little further on I was passed by a different colour hat. Someone in the next wave had just passed me. It told me, as if there was any doubt, that there was no chance of me being first. All was right with the world.

The beach approached slowly. I’d noticed from the first few waves that there was a sand bar. This gave the impression that the beach was closer than it was. The effect of the sand bar was that a few swimmers had got up and found that they still had a long way to go. I’d made a mental note to swim as far into the beach as possible. I kept swimming whilst everyone around me go up, everyone except the drafter. I was beginning to really hate him.

I don’t like running up the beach after a swim as it causes me pain. I’d hoped that I could have just strolled up the beach at a fast walk. Drafting man put pay to that plan. After following me all the way from the start he was determined that he was going to sprint past me on the beach. I wasn’t about to let that happen. I was going to win that sprint finish no matter how much it hurt. It hurt a lot.

I hobbled back to our basecamp high on the grass bank. My arms felt that they had been wrenched out of their sockets and I was sore where my arms had rubbed against my side. I’d tried too hard and now I was paying. Slowly, our little group returned to the base camp and it started to dawn on me that I’d finished fastest. I sat on the grass and got sunburnt in a quiet air of satisfaction

Not bad for a fat bloke with no swimming in the last few months