Oh My God. What Was I Thinking?
Taking my family of five on a Swim Trek holiday.
This will be my fifth Swim Trek, so technically I know what I’m doing. I’m a seasoned swimmer. I know about anti-chafe balm, the importance of a good feed post-swim, and how to casually mention water temperature as if 18 degrees is “actually quite pleasant once you’re in.”
But taking my entire family?
Questionable judgement.
The kids — well, actually adult kids now — were all swimmers once upon a time. You know the drill. School carnivals, squad at North Sydney Pool, early mornings with wet towels permanently living in the car. The occasional blue ribbon. Chlorine hair. Goggles always disappearing five minutes before warm-up.
So when the idea of a European swim holiday came up, they were surprisingly easy to convince. Mention Europe and suddenly everyone’s interested in “open water adventure.” Funny that.
At Christmas, I tried inspiration first. Matching cossies under the tree.
A lot of eye rolling.
Three months out, I started gently reminding them that the water temperature overseas would be around 24°C and considering Sydney was having the warmest summer ever, perhaps now might be an excellent time to reacquaint themselves with swimming.
One of the three actually began a routine. Early morning swims across the bay. Very committed. Slightly smug.
Another signed up for a local charity swim which, in fairness, is a strong move because nothing motivates training like public registration and mild panic.
The third — and this is important — is the only one who truly understands what’s ahead because she’s done one of these trips before. Which makes the fact she still hasn’t rolled her arms over in months possibly years, slightly concerning.
One month out?
Still not much progress.
At this point, I move into practical mother mode.
“Maybe it’s time to buy goggles?”
Because apparently everyone plans to swim up to 5 km a day in the Mediterranean armed only with confidence and nostalgia.
What I’ve realised is that swim fitness comes back surprisingly quickly. Technique mostly survives. Endurance follows. But the funny thing is, that’s not really why we do these trips.
It’s the stunning locations. The food — which, let’s be honest, is what really excites everyone. The endless discussions about the exact colour of the water. “No, it’s not blue, it’s turquoise.” “Actually I think it’s more emerald.” The bonding over which swim group we’ll end up in, with everyone casually pretending not to care while caring very deeply.
And, of course, the slightly competitive family conversations over dinner about who swam the furthest, who took the least rests, and who was “definitely pulled off course by the current.” Funny how quickly everyone becomes an elite athlete again after one Aperol Spritz.
And somewhere in amongst all of that, your adult children become your swim buddies.
They join your husband, a late devotee of ocean swimming, who only picked up swimming properly when he was in his late 40s. He figured "if you can't beat her, join her" as my addiction to the sea wasn't going anywhere. He has now weathered and enjoyed all the Swim Trek adventures and is looking forward to the coming "family affair".
There’s something very strange and lovely about swimming beside your kids, the people you once stood poolside for at school carnivals. Watching them dive into unfamiliar water. Hearing them complain about cold currents exactly the same way they did at age twelve.
Will they be fully prepared?
Probably not.
Will someone forget something important?
Absolutely.
Will there be complaints?
Without question.
But will they remember it forever?
I suspect yes.
And honestly, that’s probably why I'll keep signing us all up.
Wish me luck!
Ciao
Cathy