Yesterday and Today and a bit of World Cup cricket

Yesterday was a showery day and when I visited Point Chevalier beach it was calm and intermittently sunny with storm clouds on the horizon.

Sunny foreground with rain clouds on the horizon on a calm Saturday at Pt Chevalier beach

Sunny paddleboarders in the foreground with rain clouds on the horizon on a calm Saturday at Pt Chevalier beach

Here’s another photograph from yesterday.

Yes, that's a dog on a paddleboard

Yes, that’s a high viz dog relaxing in the autumn sun on a paddleboard at Pt Chevalier beach

Today, however, was quite a different story weather-wise.  A strong wind was blowing in and whipping up unrelenting waves. Freestyle swimming was still possible but it was a bit of a hectic mission.

Choppy waters at Pt Chevalier beach

Choppy waters at Pt Chevalier beach

The waves may not look too big in the photograph but there was quite a swell. I felt a bit like a sailing vessel being tossed around as I swam along parallel to the shore. The New Zealand cricket team might feel a bit like this at the moment as the run rate is a bit slow 33 overs into the first innings of the Cricket World Cup final against the fearsome Australian cricket team currently being played in Melbourne. But there is hope as NZ batsmen Ross Taylor and Grant Elliot have just made 100 runs in their partnership.

Te Henga June 22 2014 and the influence of a photography class

Went for a beach walk with friends at the west coast beach Te Henga / Bethells on June 22 last year which is during winter, so, too cold for a swim. But who knows, perhaps I’ll have a midwinter swim this year.

It’s been bothering me that the beach experiences are being told out of order. There’s been so much jumping around. Recent posts have consisted of a previous beach visit that is combined in a post with a beach visit that occurred on the same day as the write-up. I wanted things to be strictly chronological but it seems that the interaction between storytelling and life events just isn’t like that. The process of remembering is not chronological. I latch onto chronology as a way to organise my memories, my past, but this is really just a filing and shelving mechanism. Today isn’t today for very long. But, equally, every day is today. Today is all there is but I’m constantly finding myself in the past. Past experiences influence and filter the present. Zeus is the most powerful of the Greek Gods, and isn’t his father Kronos? The God of time? Or something like that. Perhaps if you control time (chronology / history) you control everything and become the ultimate God of Gods.

Walking at Te Henga, Bethells beach in winter

Walking at Te Henga, Bethells beach in winter

The people in the photograph are probably not still there, at the beach. Photographs give the illusion of permanence even thought we know they capture just a small slice of time. A micro-second, but this depends on the camera setting. There will be footprints on the beach right now, but not the ones in the photograph as those imprints would have been erased and replaced by wind and water many times over.

A while ago – several years, in fact – I thought of a calendar as markings in the sand. Some days of the year have special significance, particularly those that remind us of loved ones who have departed. We remember these days and mark them in our own sand calendar, but when we are no longer able to remember those special days they are erased by windblown sand. Memories of children who die fade with every passing generation. Imagine all the losses that are no longer thought about because those who thought about them can no longer hold thoughts.

Perhaps this needs a bit of cropping to delete that funny bit of rock at the top

Oh yes! These photographs were taken just after I joined a photography class and became a bit more adventurous, perhaps, although you’d have to work pretty hard to take bad photographs at Te Henga.


Wedding photo shoot in the distance

Piha 6 April 2014, Pt Chev today, google translate

Looks like this was my last swim in the 2013 / 2014 summer. It was at Piha, with friends. The photos aren’t great, which can be what happens when beer is consumed. Probably shouldn’t have gone swimming but there was a group of us (safety in numbers) and we didn’t go out too deep. And the Piha surf has a sobering effect.

Early evening at Piha in April : Aprilis in prima vesperi ad Piha : νωρίς το απόγευμα στο Piha τον Απρίλιο.

The rough and tumble of a west coast beach swim is awesome, but these days I seem to prefer the restrained inner harbour experience at Pt Chevalier. This afternoon the water was particularly calm, which gave it a noticeable temperature gradient. The top 10 to 15 cm were lovely as this top layer had been warmed by the intermittent sunshine, but just beneath that it was increasingly chilly as the depth increased. Definitely refreshing. Definitely thinking about the advantages of a wetsuit. Apparently they can make you more buoyant so swimming requires less effort.

Mid afternoon high tide on a calm day at Point Chevalier beach. Mid síðdegis háflæði á rólegu degi á Point Chevalier ströndinni.

Mid afternoon high tide on a calm day at Point Chevalier beach : Mid síðdegis háflæði á rólegu degi á Point Chevalier ströndinni.

Speaking of effort, I’m still reading the Odyssey. It’s taking me a while but I like it a lot. There are words and phrases that jump out – like this:

‘For as I detest the doorways of Death I detest that man who under constraint of poverty babbles beguiling falsehoods.’ Book XIV

These are the words of ‘long-suffering great Odysseus’ who is disguised as a tramp, talking to his swineherd Eumaios who doesn’t know whether Odysseus is dead or alive and has talked at length about how he misses his much-loved master dearly. The bit about a poor man babbling isn’t particularly interesting, but the phrase ‘doorways of Death’ mixes the everyday (doorways) with the tragic (Death), and also serves as a reminder about how ever-present death was for people ‘back then’. Telecommunications and modern medical practices hadn’t yet arrived. If someone went away, there was no knowing whether they would come back. There is still an element of this these days – which is why airports have that eerie feeling of melancholia mixed with hope – but we are permitted a great many more fulfilled hopes than the ancient Greeks were.

I absolutely adore what Brian Eno – the inventor of ‘ambient’ music – says about his Music for Airports.

“… Whenever you go into an airport or an airplane, they always play this very happy music, which is sort of saying: ‘You’re not going to die, there’s not going to be an accident, don’t worry!’ And, I thought, that was really the wrong way around, I thought that it would be much better to have music that said: ‘Well, if you die, it doesn’t really matter.’ You know. So I wanted to create a different feeling, that you were sort of suspended in the Universe and your life or death wasn’t so important. …”  Part of an interview that can be found about halfway down this page


Ambient photography : Ambient consequat. Interesting that there is a Latin word for photography.

Reading the Odyssey is like swimming freestyle along Pt Chevalier beach. Each little piece of effort is added to the next little piece of effort and before long you get there.

Each little piece of effort is added to the next little piece of effort and before long you get there – Nummum singula opera addantur quae paulo post modicum labore perveneris – Works apiece added that shortly after arriving a little effort – Works addidit singula , ut paulo post cum venisset a labore – Works added by one, that a little later, when he was come from the labor – Opera additum est, qui paulo post, cum venisset a labore – Was added to the Opera , who, a little later, when he was come out of the labor – Additum Opera, qui paulo post, cum venisset a labore – Be added , who, a little later, when he was come out of the labor – Accedit, qui paulo post, cum venisset a labore – Add to this, that thought a little later, when he was come out of the labor – Accedit, quod paulo post, cum venisset a labore – Add to this, that a little later, when he was come out of the labor – Accedit, quod paulo post, cum venisset a labore – Add to this, that a little later, when he was come out of the labor.

Not sure how accurate these mechanical google translations are but have reached a stasis after going backwards and forwards translating the same (but transforming) phrase into Latin, then into English, then Latin, English… Digital bilingual chinese whispers. Looks a bit like Language Poetry.

Why the languages? They give an illusion of movement to stasis. My ambient staycation involves escape to foreign countries of the mind.

Each little piece of effort is added to the next little piece of effort and before long you get there – Κάθε μικρό κομμάτι της προσπάθειας προστίθεται στο επόμενο μικρό κομμάτι της προσπάθειας και πριν από καιρό φτάσετε εκεί – Every little bit of effort added to the next little bit of effort and time before you get there – Κάθε μικρό κομμάτι της προσπάθειας προστίθενται στην επόμενη λίγη προσπάθεια και χρόνο, πριν φτάσετε εκεί – Every little bit of effort added to the next bit of effort and time before you get there – Κάθε μικρό κομμάτι της προσπάθειας προστεθούν στην επόμενη κομμάτι της προσπάθειας και του χρόνου πριν φτάσετε εκεί – Every little bit of effort added to the next bit of effort and time before you get there.

The google translation relationship between English and Greek appears to be more accurate (or consistent) than that between English and Latin.

French Bay last April, and…

Looks like I had a swim on April 2 last year at French Bay. That’s almost a year ago. I was still with ‘him’ at that time, but he wasn’t at the beach with me. Not sure whether that makes sense but anyway, the ducks were friendly.

Ducks at French Bay on April 2 2014

Ducks at French Bay on April 2 2014. Love the tiny little wave that is in the process of breaking onto the beach. 

In the middle of last year (so, after this photo was taken) I started attending a photography class. Then, towards the end of the year, started attending a writing class. We write short stories (fiction or non-fiction) then read them out. And then joined a poetry class earlier this year. We read a poem then write one in response then do it again, producing two poems each class. I have had quite a lot of trouble reading for the last couple of years, for several reasons, but at present I’m a bit obsessed. The Odyssey. The Canterbury Tales. Emily Dickinson. Susan Howe. It is incredible that we can get inside the heads of people who lived many years ago. Reading is time travel.

Swimming in the rain, the Odyssey continues.

Yes, it was raining when I went to the beach today, which seems to make swimming easier although not many other people seem to agree. And at Pt Chevalier beach it’s not too difficult to keep the towel dry.

A rainy afternoon at Pt Chevalier beach today

A rainy afternoon at Pt Chevalier beach today

After Odysseus was confronted by those awful female monsters Skylla and Charybdis as outlined in the last post, apparently he ended up trapped on an island with the goddess Calypso who offered to make him immortal – but he was pining for his wife Penelope so declined the offer. Poor Odysseus! He was virtually emasculated by Skylla and Charybdis then trapped by a goddess! Of course he hopped into bed with her quite a few times but then he wanted to go home. Typical. Then I bet he gave Penelope all the excuses. ‘Sorry Penelope, she trapped me! And I had to prove I was a man after meeting those mean and nasty monsters!’ Despite not knowing whether her husband was alive or dead for many many years, and being surrounded by ardent and persistent suitors, Penelope was required to remain chaste – despite being chased. So, Odysseus would rather be reunited with his true love than be immortal. Do I really believe that? I think that he would rather be mortal but powerful than immortal and less powerful as it is likely that the goddess Calypso would always trump him in any kind of power-stakes because she is truly immortal, rather than the ‘muggle-wizard’ hybrid he would be if she granted him immortality. Maybe.

I feel slightly connected to the events of Homer’s Odyssey when I’m swimming as there is only really one sea. Perhaps I feel slightly immortal as I’m immersing myself in an ocean that has been circling the earth for about 3.8 billion years. Mind you, the earth has been around for even longer so there goes that theory. But then again, we don’t immerse ourselves in the earth unless we are dead and buried, and then we don’t usually get to blog about it.

The Odyssey

Writing about these previous beach visits is a bit of an odyssey, a mission, an ongoing quest. Actually, (warning, a not particularly subtle segue follows) I am reading the Odyssey. Not in ancient Greek, but a translated version.

I’m about halfway through Homer’s Odyssey. Odysseus has just related several stories about how he managed to deal with a mean and nasty Cyclops; a many headed female man eating monster called Skylla (who lives in a cave in a rockface on the edge of the sea) and another female monster (who lives near Skylla) in the shape of a whirlpool called Charybdis among other things.

He tells the story of how he had to get past Skylla and Charydbis a second time (I think, if I’ve got this whole thing sorted) in a partially broken vessel (sailing ship). This is what he says:

‘But I went on my way through the vessel, to where the high seas had worked the keel free out of the hull, and the bare keel floated on the swell, which had broken the mast off at the keel; yet still there was a backstay made out of oxhide fastened to it. With this I lashed together both keel and mast, then rode the two of them, while the deadly stormwinds carried me.

‘After this the West Wind ceased from its stormy blowing, and the South Wind came swiftly on, bringing to my spirit grief that I must measure the whole way back to Charybdis. All that night I was carried along, and with the sun rising I came to the sea rock of Skylla, and dreaded Charybdis. At this time Charybdis sucked down the sea’s salt water, but I reached high in the air above me, to where the tall fig tree grew, and caught hold of it and clung like a bat; there was no place where I could firmly brace my feet, or climb up it, for the roots of it were far from me, and the branches hung out far, big and long branches that overshadowed Charybdis. Inexorably I hung on, waiting for her to vomit the keel and mast back up again. I longed for them, and they came late; at the time when a man leaves the law court, for dinner, after judging the many disputes brought him by litigious young men; that was the time it took the timbers to appear from Charybdis. Then I let go my hold with hands and feet, and dropped off, and came crashing down between and missing the two long timbers, but I mounted these, and with both hands I paddled my way out. Both the Father of Gods and men did not let Skylla see me again, or I could not have escaped from sheer destruction.’ (end of Book XII)

I haven’t read any secondary literature, but it strikes me that Homer’s Odyssey is a lot like an action movie. It was written sometime during the 8th Century BC, so, nearly 3,000 years ago, and its setting is at the time of the Trojan war, about 1250 BC. It is a retelling of how Odysseus had an arduous and long journey home after being one of the people who wrecked Troy by hiding inside a wooden horse. The written document we know as Homer’s Odyssey has come about after many generations of people telling and retelling the story of Odysseus. I can’t help thinking about how the fish that was caught gets bigger every time the tale is told.

But anyway, one of the things that interests me about the passage quoted above – apart from the cinematic nature of the action – is how he describes his ‘waiting time’ in relation to legal proceedings brought about by ‘litigious young men’. Imagine Odysseus, hanging from a (fig) tree, for quite some time, in a perilous situation, while his vessel is sucked down into the deep sea by a (female) whirlpool sea monster, thinking about lawsuits. Perhaps he was thinking something like… ‘Imma really gonna take that Charybdis to court for her time-wasting shenanigans’.

Interesting, too, that Skylla (the many-headed monster who had previously reached down from her cave to grab, then eat, several of Odysseus’s male companions) is female. And living in a cave. This brings back memories of when I studied all that Freudian psychoanalysis in relation to film theory – in particular, monstrous feminine and the vagina dentata. Furthermore, Charybdis is a whirlpool. As such, she creates a canal that, well, emasculates Odysseus by taking his broken vessel off him – he is helpless without it, and hanging from a fig tree, the tree that saved Adam and Eve from the shame of being naked – the shame of being sexual. Basically, there seem to be a myriad of sexual undertones to this part of the story. Fascinating!

And, so, back to my Odyssey where I tell the extraordinarily lame tales of my swims. There aren’t any sea monsters, only a few human ones that lurk at the back of my mind.

There is photographic evidence that I attended Pt Chevalier beach on April 1 2014, at low tide which means there wasn’t a swim, merely a walk. No caves were found, no whirlpools, no lawsuits. Apparently there could be a more benign explanation for the whirlpool monster known as Charybdis, as she is probably the Goddess of the tides. If this is the case, she is out.

Low tide at Pt Chevalier beach

Low tide at Pt Chevalier beach

French Bay one day last summer and Pt Chevalier today

Not sure whether to continue relating previous swims. Seems a bit pointless. But, then again, there are a few more photos from last year so I might as well pick up from where things left off and keep going.

Here is one from an afternoon swim at French Bay on the 9th of March 2014. It might look a bit lacklustre but the thing with photos is you can edit them to create the mood you want to inflict on the memory.

Memories have a tendency to fade, lose detail and become increasingly grainy.

…memories tend to fade, lose detail and become increasingly grainy.

On this day I had the company of the man who suddenly, unexpectedly and completely disappeared some months later, so it is a bit surreal remembering how close we appeared to be at that time. Mind you, frequent doses of wine probably helped conjure that illusion.

But, here’s proof that ‘he’ was actually there. And I’m not talking about the duck. That’s not my foot in the corner, it would have been difficult for me to take a foot-selfie from that angle. And my feet are somewhat daintier.

Deliberately over-saturated proof of the company I kept, for a while. It wasn't actually the duck, but might as well have been.

Over-saturated proof of the company I kept, for a while. I’m over being saturated by these tainted memories.

And now for the present moment. Or, more correctly, earlier today, and earlier this summer. Time is such a slippery thing. I’ve had a swim virtually every day this year. It is becoming somewhat of a ‘ritual’ or ‘practice’. I don’t like to miss a day, so plan things around the tides. I’m no longer obsessed with high tide since realising there is actually a window of swimming opportunity about 3 hours either side of a full tide, a total of about 6 possible swimming hours each day. Fantastic!

I have been doing proper swimming. Freestyle. Took me a while to get the breathing sorted but it was worth persevering.

The water temperature has cooled a little in the last couple of weeks as it is autumn. I’m considering the purchase of a wetsuit to enable winter swimming as I’ve started fretting about the weather becoming too cold because I don’t want to stop or resort to an indoor chlorinated pool.

Despite the slightly chilly water it was a lovely sunny day today with an irresistible midday high tide at Point Chevalier beach.

Summery autumnal full tide at Point Chevalier beach today

Summery autumnal full tide at Pt Chevalier beach today