Palmie to Whale. The first epic of the season. Funny how the season feels like it is just beginning, yet we’ve been full on training for more than four months now. The stage is now beneath us. 

We have a few still away on “holiday”, something still a bit foreign to my "yankie" norm. (I love that all of Sydney shuts down for a whole month. People spending time instead of saving it. Many cultures have quite a bit to gain from that simple custom) Yet, others are just rolling in from their separation from the daily wheel.

On Sunday, an invigorated group of 15 made the trek up to the ‘other side of the tracks’ and stood guard for what the ocean might deliver us on the day. Recent years have caused alarm while gazing out at Palm Beach minutes before start time. However, the few days leading up to this day’s event hinted at favourable conditions; and more than favourable they were. Not too much of a swell and a nice roller coming into Whale. Things looked great.

A well organised check in and registration routine allowed the group to mingle a bit before we got underway. The lack of one specified place to mingle kept our groups more intimate, yet still everyone was still together. (For those interested, we’re meeting at the grassy knoll just north of North Bondi Surf Club for Cole). The start waves began, and slowly the bobbing heads on the horizon grew in number. Five minutes before I’m due to go, I choose to realise I’ve sent my goggles over to Whale Beach with the rest of my things. Life goes on. Luckily for me, Peter had the time to fetch his spare pair from the car, while I waited with the rest of the orange caps on the start line; Cheers for that Peter. Handing me the life savers, I also received an offer to swim the return leg back from Whale to Palm with a group preparing for Rottnest. Would I!

So I run out from the line, next to Paul intending to cross the next line just ahead of my newly found rival. It’s a great swim here. From beach to beach, you can see the bottom, or whatever might swim below you the whole way. As I swam, I appreciated that this is really what these events are all about. Putting yourself into a position, or an environment that most people wouldn’t put themselves into, and enjoying it. I wonder how many of those pink caps that came thrashing OVER me really enjoyed the time they spent in that wonderful environment.

A lot of the swim felt like I was walking on an escalator the wrong way. After seeing the consistent girth of our finishing times, we must have all been on the same escalator.

This event had the right name. The BIG swim. Not because of the distance from start to end, or the comparative difficulty in completing it, but because of the number of people in it. I never really felt like I had much space around me, and had more than a fair share of off-course swimmers bumpering their way along the way.

We all swam just fast enough, as the lightening and thunder that followed would have been unwelcome half an hour earlier. Timing is such a key ingredient.

Congratulations to everyone who chose to spend a majority of their day in far north Sydney last Sunday. It certainly is an event to be proud to participate in. Special mention to Phil Muscatello, whose newly found addiction allowed him to shave 10 minutes from his ‘old’ mates time of last year. (This is when EVERYONE elses times added minutes)