Fresh from winning the iconic Liffey Swim, RTÉ Sport presenter Paul O’Flynn took a well-earned break on Spain’s Costa Brava. Naturally, while there he took on the challenge of a 6.5km open water swim off the coast of the picturesque fishing village of Cadaques.
Whitewashed houses brighten as the sleepy fishing village of Cadaques wakes to a day busier than most in its calendar. The church clock wipes its eyes and strikes for six. Four short bongs first indicating the top of the hour. And then six long deliberate clangs.
The first light peeps gently over the hills behind, illuminating the dark sea into a kaleidoscope of colour. Pinks, purples, blues and greens appearing across the bay, fishing boats bobbing in the gentle chop, silvery fish below glistening as they're suddenly disturbed.
With a stretch and a yawn, it’s time for me to join the slowly approaching crowds. Ones and twos at first. Then larger groups of friends, club mates and tourists - all with a familiar look on their faces. Fear and dread. Excitement and energy. All set for a 6.5 kilometre swim in the open sea along Spain’s famously rugged Costa Brava.
"From small beginnings, it is now considered the most prestigious open water event in Spain"
The normally serene Cadaques seafront is now a buzzing pod of preparation. 1,500 swimmers simultaneously performing the less-than-glamorous dance of pulling on wetsuits, skinsuits and speedos. Flamengo it isn’t. Double, triple and quadruple checks of hats and goggles. A final bite of banana, a sip of water and a dash of Vaseline, the sea swimmers friend. It’s time.
Boatloads of anxious and excited swimmers roll out into the pristine waters. An orange glow now surrounding the village and the Pyrenean foothills behind. Nobody talking as our sailboat slinks into deeper waters, around the headland and into the clear blue deep of the Cap de Creus National Marine Park. The only way back now is to swim.
It’s the eleventh year of the Marnaton eDreams Cadaques swim. From small beginnings, it is now considered the most prestigious open water event in Spain. At the top end, it’s seriously competitive. Olympians vie with overseas contenders, with local talent taking a shot too. But most are here just to take part. Wetsuit or skins, over 6.5, 4.5 or 2.5 km everyone is facing their own personal challenge.
"The Marnaton is like chemotherapy", says Rosa Mari Lleal a 55-year-old from Barcelona recovering from cancer. "If you do not count the kilometres, you stop seeing it as impossible". She’s part of a group of fifty swimmers in pink ribbons raising money for cancer research. "When you finish the process you not only realise you have resisted until the end. But you have managed to reach the goal".
After 45 minutes the sailboat slows and drops anchor in the protected surrounds of the marine bio park. It’s a wild remote place. The soil stony and brown, speckled with trees and scrub. Winters here are for hardy types, with the Pyrenees sending the famed Tramuntana wind whistling down from the nearby French border. But today it‘s a picture of paradise.
The sun rising and starting to bring heat. The water as clear, cool and inviting as a fresh gin and tonic. Swimmers are warned once more not to touch the shoreline, rocks and seabed for fear of disturbing wildlife. And then we jump in. At home in Ireland, this is always the hardest part. A shriek, a splash and a shortness of breath. But there’s none of that here. A balmy 21 degrees water temperature makes me glad I left the wetsuit at home.
"Within the first ten minutes, a large bearded Spanish man stops to shove me and let off some steam"
With a blast of a hooter, those of us taking on the 6.5k were off. My goal was to take it all in, enjoy the sights and finish. This is supposed to be a holiday after all. But soon my competitive instinct kicks in. A little jostling for position and some tapping of toes frays tempers and within the first ten minutes, a large bearded Spanish man stops to shove me and let off some steam. I decide to slip back and find my rhythm and the hypnotic sights below dim any rising tensions.
Shoals of fish sweep in and out of vision, curious enough to come close to the splashing masses but quickly darting away. Orange, yellow, purple and green, they come in differing shapes and sizes lifting any notion of tiredness. The beautiful sights are so distracting, the kilometres tick away in my trancelike state. This is the true joy of swimming in the sea. All thoughts forgotten.
I’m snapped back to my senses with the sudden sight of a rocky outcrop and a man standing in wellies shouting and pointing right. I shift course as the rocks rise below and a bed of sea urchins is revealed just a few feet below. Not a good place to stop for a rest.
It opens again to the most testing part of the course. A wicked swell picks up and it’s time to work with the waves rather than against them. Stroke, stroke, head-up, correct course. Don’t breathe into the waves, let them take you where they want. The sea is in charge here and once you’re making some progress forward then there’s no need to panic. You don’t get this swimming lengths in a pool.
"The shifting light, gentle breeze and a feeling of times passed make Cadaques special"
Around the next headland is Port Lligat- the home of artist Salvador Dali. A place the weird and wonderful surrealist painter said quenched him in light and colour. A visit to his home, now a museum, is one of the highlights of Cadaques. A warren of interconnecting rooms and narrow passageways built between, upon and below a gaggle of fishermen’s huts. From bear skin rugs to crickets in cages, Pirelli tyre cushions and pink-lipped sofas, it’s a glorious representation of his life and art. It feels like being inside one of his paintings. But today I’m swimming past.
I take a short-stop for a squeeze of an orange and a small glass of coke - delivered by smiling local children floating on a pontoon. Just 2k to go now. The end is in sight. A final push around the headland and the tide turns back in my favour. The familiar sight of the church steeple and whitewashed houses of Cadaques come back into view. The bunch begins to come back together and we weave stroke by stroke through the fishing boats dotted throughout the bay. We’re fighting for minor places but the competitor strikes again adding a little pace on the dash for home. The last few strokes and I’m home, back on the beach I’d left more than two hours earlier. Exhausted and elated my longest ever outdoor swim completed. Time for tapas.
The shifting light, gentle breeze and a feeling of times passed make Cadaques special. Its spectacular views have inspired artists, writers and musicians alike. But none of them knew what I know now - the best views are to be found swimming into its shore from the open sea.
Cadaques is less than 2 hours by car from Barcelona and is accessible by bus. The 2019 edition of the Marnaton eDreams Cadaques Swim takes place on Saturday, September 14th.
