Deeper Water
On a crowded beach in a distant time
At the height of summer see a boy of five
At the water’s edge so nimble and free
Jumping over the ripples looking way out to sea
Now a man comes up from amongst the throng
Takes the young boy’s hand and his hand is strong
And the child feels safe, yeah the child feels brave
As he’s carried in those arms up and over the waves
Deeper water, deeper water, deeper water, calling him on
This article was originally published by Neil Isles through Open Water Magazine, Issue 3.
This summer I’ve swum across “The Rip” at the mouth of Port Phillip Bay — supposedly “Australia’s most dangerous swim” according to our guide. I’ve also finished my first 5km open water event, and last April swam with Whale Sharks in the Indian Ocean at Ningaloo Reef WA. No ultra-marathons, no Iron Man events, no Channel swims, but some highly satisfying achievements for me.
When I was about five or six holidaying at Queenscliff, where Bass Strait enters Port Phillip Bay, I would look across the Rip and watch the boats come and go through the rough water. I have always loved the sea but had a high level of fear about getting into the deeper water. I was never a good swimmer — in fact I was horrible! It took me until 6th grade to get my “Herald” award for swimming 25 yards at Brunswick Baths. I can remember getting into trouble as a youngster at Queenscliff. The water was great, the waves were fun, but the undertow was not — and I started to get pulled out beyond my depth. Fortunately a guy who I remember looking like the ‘Chesty Bond’ man was watching and quickly helped me to safety with strong arms. No dramas, nothing to see here. But a very short sharp lesson.
Fast forward nearly 20 years after I achieved my “Herald” and a work colleague was looking for someone to swim with before work. “Why not?” I said. I had grand visions of rapidly progressing to triathlons back then and thought it would be fun. So off we went. Once I figured out how to breathe, I realized that I could go quite a way without stopping — something I’d never done before — 25 yards was my previous limit!. Horribly slow, legs and arms and head all over the place — but I could rack up some distance in the pool.
About the same time I met Mustachioed Mike (later to be known as ‘Tom Selleck’ or ‘Tom’ for short). He was a regular commuter like me on the 6.31am train to Spencer St and we started chatting as we often sat opposite each other. Mike is an absolute enthusiast — an avid sports freak and a great athlete — runner, swimmer, road and mountain bike rider, footballer and the rest, and always so positive. The topic of conversation was almost always sport. After I changed jobs and stopped commuting by train, ‘Tom’ and I bumped into each other very occasionally, most often at the local pool. We talked about swimming as much as we swam.
Fast forward another 25 years after meeting ‘Mustachioed Mike aka Tom’ and during treatment for some minor health problems I was advised to increase my regular exercise as part of my strategy. I had always kept up swimming, but was horrible at maintaining a routine. So I thought “Set an achievable target, say three swims per week — don’t stress if you miss one (usually due to work travel), just make it up over the subsequent week(s). Keep it modest — 1km per session is fine”. This worked a treat. I even started to plan where I would stay on work trips so that I would be close to local pools and discovered some great pools. Ask me about the best ones between between Dalby (Qld) and Bunbury (WA)! About this time I was thinking and talking about swimming in open water — but thought it was more about crowded events and getting kicked in the head. I needed a helping hand.
Out of the blue ‘Tom’ called my work phone but he used his real name, so it took me a moment. He remembered I was a consultant, remembered my company’s name, chased me down and suggested that I could help his company. While we worked together our conversation quickly turned from work to sport and swimming in particular. He mentioned he had just starting swimming with a group swimming at Williamstown Beach called the “Mussels”, and would I be interested? Here was the opportunity and helping hand.
And so I met the “Mussels”…
‘Fearless Leader’ — another enthusiast and the kind of bloke everyone gravitates to, who looks out for everyone and sets a fun and relaxed tone to the group (and tows a buoy behind him so we are more visible). “Aquaman”, “Big Mike”, Hans, Lexi, Richard, Fi, Nyree (and of course Mustachioed Mike) and a host of other awesome swimmers and people. The Mussels motto is “swim at your own pace and distance goal”. So that first day I jumped in and swam between boating markers, wondering ‘how on earth I am going to keep up?’. The group spread out over a distance but after a while we stopped, re-grouped and floated around while chatting. It doesn’t take long to figure out that I am with a group that simply loves the water. Most of them can swim a hell of a lot better than I can but just enjoy the fellowship in the water. It genuinely is in line with their motto and there is always someone who is about your pace or will swim close — and everyone has an eye out for others. I am starting to feel “safe and brave”. Deeper water indeed.
After a couple of weeks, I hang back after the swim and join the group for a coffee. No prizes for guessing the topic of conversation. Week after week through March and April I am becoming a regular — swimming maybe for 45 minutes to an hour interspersed with some floating and chatting at the markers or at the entrance to “Harbormasters harbor” where a random someone chased us away one day. Then one week in April the weather is pretty wild . “Looks pretty rough today”, I say with some trepidation, doubting my ability to swim through the chop. “Tom” pipes up: “That’s just a 2 out of 10” he says with a smile “You should have seen it when…”. We attack it as a group and despite a few mouthfuls I get through and we re-group at the pole. Wow! Another milestone and fear conquered with the help of the team.
Early in April I ask the question. “When do you stop for winter?” “We don’t”, was the reply. “Get yourself a wet suit and keep going“ said ‘Tom’ with his mustachioed smile. So one birthday present to myself later I am suited up. I learnt to swim through the “ice cream“ headaches as I acclimatize to the ten degree water in July and realize that after a short while you get warm and stay warm. I am swimming for longer and further, and I discover that the Bay in winter is usually calm and magic on a cold, clear day.
This article was originally published by Neil Isles through Open Water Magazine, Issue 3.
About this time ‘Fearless Leader’, who loves to stir and assign names to everyone, gives me the nickname ‘Zoolander’ after Derek Zoolander the ‘dimwitted but good natured’, fictitious fashion model because of my ability to always bob up in the weekly photos taken by Fi or ‘Fearless Leader’. This is about the same time that ‘Mustachioed Mike’ had a name change to ‘Tom’ courtesy of ‘Fearless Leader’. It’s all a bit of fun but I play up the “Blue Steel” pose when, along with several other Mussels, I achieve my Bronze Medallion. Say what? I could never have fathomed that I would ever contemplate joining the club and getting my Bronze and becoming a member of the beach patrol, how did that happen? I was such a piss poor swimmer!
Deeper Water still.
A couple of years of regular open water swimming and the odd event later “Arrow” (another Mussel renowned for his ability to swim in a straight line even in rough water) pipes up “How about we swim ‘The Rip?’. C’mon ‘Zoolander’, you could do that easily!“ So, he convinces me to give it a go and I agree, though with quite a few butterflies in the stomach — recalling my experience as a youngster at Queenscliff which is the starting point for the ‘Rip’ swim. But we assemble a team and train together practicing swimming close as a group (a rule of the Rip swim guide). This was tough — because I was clearly the slowest of the group of eight. But the pace was sufficient, the group all encouraging, and we just clicked. On the day, we smashed it as a close-knit team with help from our expert guide. Unforgettable experience. Thanks Arrow and six other team members. Thanks “expert guide”. Thanks Mussels and Mussels spirit.
Then I get the opportunity to give some back (although I’m still waiting for the right opportunity to give some back to ‘Fearless Leader’ who dubbed me ‘Zoolander’! I’m sure he can take it!). On a rough day a new swimmer not sure about doing another lap in all the chop hesitates. “C’mon mate” I say. “I will swim with you, you can do it easily”. He gets around the distance through the deeper water easily and is chuffed. Last week he swam the Big Bay swim (3.2 kms across the top of Port Phillip Bay). Thanks Mussels…
On a distant beach lonely and wild
At a later time see a man and a child
And the man takes the child up into his arms
Takes her over the breakers
To where the water is calm
Deeper water, deeper water,
Deeper water, calling them on
