Water and me!

I can’t swim.....(much)

As the expression goes “I can’t swim to save my life”. For me its pretty much close to the truth. But it wasn’t always that way.

My earliest recollections of water were the sea. The Indian Ocean to be exact. Much of my childhood was in a small town East London in the Eastern Cape of South Africa. It is a fairly warm ocean as the Agulhas current flows down from the equator towards Cape Town at the southern tip of Africa. However this is MUCH warmer than the western side of Cape Town where the Benguela current comes from the icy seas around the South Pole.

[Kei River Mouth]

East London has some amazingly beautiful beaches, often our family would be the only ones on the beach and you could look for miles and see absolutely no-one. To entertain the family my Dad would take us all out to the beach where we could splash around in little rock pools while looking for “bullies” (little fish) and collecting seashells. My Dad was an excellent swimmer but my Mother would never venture in any water as she could not swim.

[view from Hickmans River towards Cove Rock - my favourite beach]

One time our family and other extended families gathered together at Hickman’s River. When we went to Hickmans, seemed like such a long journey to me, the last few miles would be on a rough gravel road that wound down to the river mouth past the side of the river. It was a blind river that occasionally trickled out into the sea. The water was deep and beautifully still, the bush was thick and vivid green. There were lots of curious little fish that I could never catch, as I tried to grab them they would dart away. I loved going in the water but I could not swim. I must have been about 5 years old at that time. Suddenly I found myself in water that was too deep. I remember jumping up for air when my feet hit the bottom but I kept going into deeper water. I saw the family gathering on the other side of the river in a kaleidoscope type of image as I lunged up for air but no-one noticed my desperate plight. I did not have enough chance to shout for help because I was frantically gulping air when my head cleared the surface. It seemed like an eternity, down and up for air, an endless repetition of swirling water and bright sunlight. All of a sudden someone must have seen my plight and I remember my Dad running towards the river to rescue me but Gordon my older cousin was quicker, I saw the splash of his dive hitting the water. He was about ten years old but he knew exactly what to do because I felt quite safe as he took me back to the river bank in a typical life saver hold.

I was much more careful after that (I assume my parents kept a sharper eye on me when near water). Still I could not swim, I now wonder why I was never taught?

Still, many wonderful days playing at the edge of the sea, the waves would go up to my waist but I was careful to go no deeper. The temperature of the water never bothered me at that age and I stayed in the water for hours on end.

East London is South Africa’s only river port, located on the Buffalo River. There is quite a long wall/pier going out to sea from the harbour. It is to prevent the sea currents from filling the river with silt and endanger ships when coming into the harbour. There were also two dredgers which used to take silt/sand from the bottom of the river and dump it out at sea, this was regularly done to keep the harbours waters deep enough for the visiting ships. My Grandpa Lofty had retired from working for the railways, he got a job as a night watchman on these dredgers. As I was his oldest grandson, I was privileged to go with him and spend the night at the harbour. He would buy me a pint of milk and we would have a sandwich. He never spoke much, he was quite a gruff kind of fellow but we used to get along just fine. It would be pitch dark on the boat so I never did much exploring. We would just sit in a dimly lit room and I would speak (mostly). Then at about 4 am he would wake me up and we would go home.

[Orient Beach on left/northern side of harbour]

On the northern side of the pier opposite the river was a shallow protected beach called the Orient (named after one of the ships that sank off East London. The waves would be quite gentle for kids. It was there that I learned the thrill of body surfing, it was incredible to feel your speed as you race over the surface with the power of the wave propelling you.

My Dad loved East London but the pay was never enough. The goldmines in the Orange Free State used to lure him as the pay was extremely good. Conditions underground at the mines were harsh and my Dad hated it. He would endure it as long as he could. Our family would see saw between the two towns; East London the fair coastal town and Welkom with the mines. My mother loved Welkom as the family finances were good there. Welkom was one of the first cities that was completely designed before it was built. The town had the most beautiful municipal swimming pools with landscaped grounds. Children were charged 5 cents to enter, this was around 1970. Every Saturday, the three boys would get onto my bicycle and we would go early morning. We would impatiently wait for the pools to open and would be the first ones to enter. I must have been about 10 years of age. I can still remember looking over their Olympic sized pool, the water was a lake of glass without even the slightest ripple of the water pump disturbing the surface. We boys would stay there all day. Looking back, I never recall there being a life guard! Absolutely crazy! I still could not swim. I once foolishly got into “deep” water, no-one was there to see me doing my usual plunge and leap for air method. Fortunately for me, the gentle water current from the pool pump pushed me into more shallow waters where I was fine. What about my mother? How could she just allow us to go to the pools unsupervised? It just boggles my mind when I think about it! It was in those pools that I learned to float on my back while doing a back paddle. I felt quite a sense of accomplishment when I back floated the entire length of the big pool, I still remember the pouting of my lips as air rasped in and out.

[seems so small now, was huge when I was a youngster]

Michele my wife can’t swim either but she knew the critical nature of being able to swim, so each of my daughters had to go for swimming lessons and even then they were not allowed near a swimming pool without adult supervision. Were people more stupid back then in my childhood? Somehow we survived “in spite of” our parents.

Back to the coast in 1974, the old man couldn’t take the mines any more. Here I made new friends, the Beattie brothers; they were as tall as I was short. The one brother Steve and I were especially close. I was now a teenager and once we were swimming at the Orient Beach; the current caught me and despite having a bit more brains, I got lost in the moment and tried to go directly against the current, I was once again in trouble, but Steve just waded across, grabbed me and took me towards shallower water. You can become stupid in your panic, the local newspaper would occasionally report on the tragic demise of holiday visitors who would get out of their depth and get caught in a strong current. They would try to fight against the current in a panic and they would tire and drown. Sometimes kids would get in trouble, their dads would leap in to rescue them and both would end up being drowned.

My love for water came to an end during the time I was conscripted into the air force. I foolishly volunteered to attempt the instructors training course after completing Basics. One of the training stages happened during winter in Pretoria; we had to do training in the swimming pool where we had to float while wearing full kit (uniform and boots). Many of us would cling to the sides while the sergeants would walk around the sides, squashing the fingers of the naughty troops. Still makes me smile (what a battle for them to make us babies a bit tougher). Some guys were lucky enough to get cramps and had to go and sit in the sauna. How I envied them as I tried to get my legs to cramp without any success. From then on I hated swimming. Just psychological, I know.

Years went by, then I had my medical drama from 2015. I was quite a keen sportsman and used to play a lot of golf and squash, up until then. As a result, my sports days were over. In December 2016, I had survived and mostly recovered. I knew I had to start doing some exercise, but what? My doctor recommended swimming. I could not really swim and actually disliked it.

At that time I had become quite fearful of many things as I battled to stop taking certain prescription medications (did not like to sleep, did not like the dark, did not like to be alone, did not like any anger or negative emotions). I decided I wanted to swim but I was very afraid that I would drown. I could not really walk without Michele’s assistance. Michele had to come with me to the gym but it was quite a battle before the gym staff would let Michele in, as she was not a member. I was really afraid to go into the water (it seems quite pathetic now). After a few sessions where I would slowly walk around the pool (small heated pool of about 140 cm deep), I developed some confidence to put my head under the water, I then started to lunge from one end to the other. I would then do it underwater, my doctor said it would be good for me to strengthen my lungs (I have lost a portion of the one lung due to an embulism). I like to chat to people and I found out from some of them that there was a daily water aerobics class. Seemed like a good idea now, when I was fit and playing squash, I remember seeing some people attending these classes and inwardly sneering at them.

[beautiful setting of water aerobics class]

Now the boot was on the other foot, so to speak. I started to attend and found the classes quite tough, much to my surprise. I loved it, I huff and puff and splash furiously along. Each individual determines their own level of intensity. I was (and still am) amazed at the strength and endurance of the instructor lady, I set a goal to try and keep up with her (a goal mind you!). I found out she has been doing it for more than 18 years, but not just an evening class but a morning class also as well as a spinning class. She is an awesome lady and such a good example.

[huffing and puffing]
I still can’t really swim but I loooove my water aerobics. I splash enthusiastically along and I am getting stronger. I am glad to say that my love for water has returned, what a journey it has been!