The RIP Swim: A crossing of mind and water
How it started
I remember the day I said yes, yes to doing the RIP swim. There were many considerations but the one that sealed my fate was this exchange with my partner : ‘The idea of this swim terrifies me’, to which he replied: ‘Maybe that is the very reason you should do it’. I knew then I had to, despite the trepidation in my heart, despite every fibre in my body wanting to scream NO. This swim was going to be about facing my inner dialogue and fears in a way no other swim had.
Setting the scene - The RIP
The three and a half kilometre narrow waterway connecting the Southern Australian waters of Bass Strait and Port Phillip Bay, the RIP or "The Heads” as it is also known, is the triangular area between Point Lonsdale, Point Nepean and the Shortlands Bluff. What makes this entrance one of the most treacherous bodies of water? Not only does the entrance gradually narrow to a one kilometre stretch due to protruding reefs, the bathymetry itself carries dramatic depth changes, anywhere from 5 to 100 meters. Adding to this is the Rip bank, located about a kilometre outside the entrance, a shallow rocky reef which bears witness to tidal currents in and out of Port Phillip, fed by the infamous waters of Bass Strait. The RIP has claimed many ships and hundreds of lives including three commandos in an exercise raid back in the 1960’s*, when ten metre waves in heavy seas became the commandos unit’s ultimate adversary.
The swimming route commences at the Point Nepean headland, swimmers make their way across the entrance of Port Phillip bay to finish at the Point Lonsdale Foreshore. The timings and management of the event are orchestrated to make the most of favourable conditions for the crossing. Point to point the swim is approximately 3.5km and on average it takes teams an hour and fifteen minutes. There have been times when, due to suboptimal or changing conditions, teams have taken up to two hours to cross.
How it was going
It was mid August when I committed to joining my team. The RIP swim was six months away, far enough to almost ignore or pretend that somehow it wasn't going to happen. As time drew closer though it became more prevalent in my psyche and took a life of its own. I swam it many times in my head, facts and realities overwhelmed by my wildly creative fear mongering storytelling voices. The very sense of being in a body of water of unfathomable volume and power, swimming but getting nowhere, far from the shore, without being able to see the ocean floor petrified me and conjured memories of being caught in a whirlpool in Gunnamatta years ago. This feeling haunted and often visited me as I tried to fall asleep. As did ‘movies’ of great white shark teeth and shark stories others told. My mind had this trailer on repeat - a shark ripping through the water with incredible prowess to gobble me up and add credence to my tombstone engraving “She died doing what she loved”. Then came insecurities about my capability to even complete the swim. Despite having done the work, I worried about having the physical endurance and stamina to complete it. What if unfavourable conditions led to a swim greater than four kilometres and longer than one and a half hours? Could my arms keep up? Would I get too cold? Would I fall too far behind my teammates? I can make light of all my inner dialogue in hindsight and it all feels comical now; but the fear I struggled with was as real and tangible at the time as a pebble in my shoe on a long walk or my worry about the future of our planet and climate change.
Photos by @russellcharters and @marciariederer
Time kept creeping closer to the event. As a team we swam in the pool together a few times to get a feel for our speed and endurance relative to each other, always talking about making sure we stuck together on the day. We also picked best suited weekends and swam in the bay. We would aim for anywhere between 2.5km and 3.7km, irrespective of location and when in the bay we tried to pick the best swim conditions. Having said that, one of these sessions was in rough water which, in hindsight, served as really good preparation.
I found my trepidation rising as the event drew closer. On a few occasions, I felt trapped and wished I had not committed. At the same time, I found hope and inspiration in the tiny threads of perspectives others offered that helped erode the quality of my own horror movies:
The perspective that the RIP’s Race Director Grant Siedle offered in our online briefing seemed to stick. We don’t have bull or tiger sharks and the great white numbers are negligible, he said. We don’t swim at dawn and sharks don’t like the commotion of many boats and activity, he added. My logic kicked in, asking me to explain why I chose to get in my car to go for my swims in the bay when I am more likely to die in a car accident than as breakfast to one the world's most skilled predators.
A passing comment by my RIP team mate over coffee was another turning point. I shared, with vulnerability and some embarrassment, that I was terrified about sharks. ‘Oh I don’t think about that at all!’ she said. My brain, in what felt like a tripple summersault, replied internally: ‘ What! So this fear is optional!?? If others don’t, why do I carry this fear so heavily? How real can it be if it doesn’t even exist for others? '. I reflected further on how my best swim buddy and friend and others I know feel about this, all not allowing such fear to stop them from doing what they love, whilst holding the utmost respect for the space shared with other creatures.
When other fellow swimmers and close friends kept emphasising that I should savour every moment of the incredible experience I was about to undertake, I found myself questioning why I was choosing fear over excitement for what love, which is swimming in the Big Blue.
Adding to all the above, was the relief and sense of security I felt on the day as we reached the Point Nepean swim start. Looking out from the boat, the ocean around me was dotted with kayakers, rescue boats, jet skis and three more larger vessels. I knew I was surrounded by experienced people whose sole focus for the next two hours was to look after me and fellow swimmers. Sharing the boat ride with our dedicated kayaker also helped build a sense of fellowship. I was breathing lighter having witnessed how well executed the management and security of the event was.
The SWIM
Photos by @russellcharters and @marciariederer
The moment is here. We are on the boat, hovering just outside the Point Nepean headland and swimmers are starting to jump off all around me. There is absolutely no turning back now. Any resistance is futile, I go through the motions, jump off, bracing myself. The transformation within me is instant. The water is not warm, but not cold either. It is the perfect blanket wrapping me now, embracing me like no other. And then I open my eyes. The blue. The blueness is everywhere and it is crystal, and pure and magnificent. Rays of light play under the surface trying to reach deeper into the blueness, but the blueness wins. Deeper down the blue becomes darker, more silvery, but still holds the magnificence of its presence. I am home. This feels like home, like I am in the presence of Aliveness, the very essence of life in all origin and forms. It awakens the sense of yearning, the yearning for peace and love and all things beyond. It humbles and empowers me.
Photos by @russellcharters and @marciariederer
I swim in awe. I look up and see our kayaker smile and herd us in a direction. I obey in full trust. I resist the urge to check how far we swam on my watch. Just keep swimming, I command myself. Songs, tunes come in and out of my mind. Waves, 2.5 to 3 meters in height, weave us in and out of the water. I look up and to my surprise I catch sight of the Point Lonsdale LightHouse. I smile and feel my underwater pull to be stronger, more determined. My kick is a little more in tune with the song in my head.
Photos by @russellcharters and @marciariederer
The swim itself started off the coast of Point Nepean. We made our way across the entrance heading towards the Point Lonsdale Lighthouse and then turned right into the bay and headed towards the foreshore at the finish. My watch measured the swim at 3.95km and the time taken as an hour and six minutes, a testament to our preparation, the well executed event management and nature’s kindness on the day. Dodging the rocks we stumbled our way to the finish line, our loved ones waiting as was a life a little richer for what we just braved through.
The rear view mirror
There are some experiences that humble you. You underestimate the task at hand and overestimate your capacity to handle it. You can walk away feeling pretty defeated, overwhelmed and deflated.
Then there are other experiences that help you realise how much you have been underestimating the untapped potential and capability that lies within you. How your own fear can distort reality and sometimes keep you from experiences that fill your cup. How easily you can give in to a life that ‘could have been’. That sometimes you just need to do the thing, despite the hundreds of reasons you find not to. The RIP swim was one such event for me.
Don’t get me wrong, I did not, nor would I ever suggest the RIP swim is to be underestimated. I am to swim it again, as best prepared as I can be, with complete and utter respect for the unpredictability in nature's forces, my own capacity to rise to the challenge; and how what goes on between my ears speaks directly to the quality of my lived experience.
Photos by @russellcharters and @marciariederer
It would be remiss of me not to call out the wonderful work done by Grant and his RIP team, the Ocean Grove SLSC crew, the medical staff, kayakers (call out to George - thank you for being an awesome guide) and land crew making this crossing possible. And the wonderful photographers there to capture the morning: @russellcharters and @marciariederer.
A huge thank you to my teammates Anna Rogozinski and Stuart Hayes for their camaraderie, trust and the special bond this swim has gifted us.
If you are interested in the RIP Swim go to RIP Swim website
Photos by @russellcharters and @marciariederer
Photos by @russellcharters and @marciariederer
Since 1840, The Rip has claimed 30 ships and badly damaged many others. Several hundred lives have been lost in its turbulent waters. In 1960, seventy-four commandos from 2 Commando Company left Point Lonsdale at 6pm on February 17 to cross The Rip in an exercise raid on the Portsea officer school. Shortly after departing, a strong tide caught the raiding party and pushed them out to sea through The Rip, where 10-metre waves capsized many of the kayaks and amphibious vehicles. Many of the men were picked up by larger rescue boats, only to be overturned once again in the heavy seas. Warrant Officer George Drakopolous and the driver of his amphibious DUKW, Private Eddie Meyer, both drowned as their vehicle sank. Eight of the commandos were rescued in Bass Strait after being picked up by an Italian ship, the Toscana. Commando Roger Wood helped others board the Toscana safely but was washed off a rope ladder by a monster wave and into the sea. His body was never found.
Conditions/Data for the day and time of the swim.
My most favourite swim record :)