South West Rocks, Rocks!

What a great day twas on Sunday. The threat of inclement weather hangin around just before the race, had evaporated before too long and glorious sunshine, light off shore winds, warm water and slight seas prevailed.

The race: very well run, modestly priced, straight forward instructions, and an easily read course. Although there was a little trap for younger players in the form of an unforseen rip that took me slightly off course sideways when rounding the last buoy and providing a slight head current to swim against coming into the beach at the end.

Even though twas my first time in this race, judging by the smiles on the faces of the organisers and volunteers, and the general conviviality of the atmosphere about the race I got the impression that the number of participants was up and that Huey was smiling upon them this year. Congratulations to all involved. I for one will be back, and I'll give youz a good rap to anyone I find who hasn't been up for it yet.

And the camaraderie: well as Mr OS.c states so eloquently, "it's all about the culcha." Thanks Mr O for organising the Satdy night dinner at The Riverside Tavern. His rousing speech, where he intruduced all us newboys-and-girls to Lord Ron of Riverside, extolling his and his fair Lady's efforts in organising the event over so many years. And Lord Ron's response, reciprocating praise on Mr O for standing up as such a cultural pillar of the Oceanswimming community; it brought a tear to me eye and a lump in me throat to be associated with such a great mob, even so newly and on the fringe. Twas a great evening, even though my wife and I had to make a relatively early departure on account of the slumberous requirements of our two young children. We would love to have stayed on chinwagging the night away.

And as I said before, South West Rocks does Rock! A truly lovely location. Staying in a cabin at the Horshoe Bay Caravan Park; going to sleep and waking up to the meditative sound of rolling surf; the reminiscence of childhood holidays aplenty up the coast; midnight sleep interrupted by heavy rain storms battering the thin sheet metal clad cabin, an early morning stroll where everybody says g'day to each other, chatting to the "Grey Nomads" that proliferate the park in this day and age; walking with the kids from the cabin over some immaculatley kempt grass directly to the golden sand of the beach, like it's your own private piece of paradise; and then strolling directly from the beach to the main street of the village. Sorry Mr O, I should leave the pitcher postcard stuff to you coz you do it better and you'll probly have proper pitchers in it as well.

I thought that making a three day weekend of it was plenty o time, but twas far too short. We'll be back for at least a week next year.

David Love.

P.S. I thought I might have started some trouble with my smartarse banter about the Bikies vs the sharks in the meeja with my two blob's worth last week; when the Gladiators MC turned up in all their thunderous pageantry to the Seabreeze Hotel, right in the centre of town on Satdy arvo. I didn't see any leather vests in the swimmin race the next day though.