Port to Pub Ultra
Fremantle to Rottnest Island
25 km
21 March
Port to Pub Ultra Marathon — 25 kilometres from Fremantle towards Rottnest Island — in 9 hours and 20 minutes, first female Veteran.
I thought this swim would be about endurance. It turned out to be about people — the ones who stepped in, stepped up, and quietly carried the day with me.
It was the 10‑year anniversary of Port to Pub, and something about the scale and ceremony made it feel bigger than just another long swim.
A very early start
Port to Pub is as much about logistics as swimming. Every solo swimmer must have a kayaker and a support vessel. Even before we reached the water, it was clear this day would be shaped as much by who showed up as by how far we had to swim.
By the time we arrived, Fremantle was already alive — cars everywhere, kayaks being unloaded, swimmers pulling on wetsuits in the half‑light. Controlled chaos, before dawn.
Stepping in, stepping up
My kayaker, Duncan, was calm, capable, and quietly reassuring — exactly who you want beside you for nine‑plus hours.
But Duncan being there at all was something of a gift.
The Wednesday before the swim, Jason — who was meant to kayak for me — won his water polo semi‑final, and the final was scheduled for 1.00 pm on race day. It meant he couldn’t be on the water.
Duncan stepped in at very short notice to support someone he barely knew, with no real prior connection — and did an absolutely fabulous job. Calm, attentive, present.
Long swims have a way of revealing character — not just in the swimmer, but in the people around them.
Meeting the team before the swim
What mattered just as much was connecting before race day.
On Friday morning, Jason, my mum, and I took the kayak to the international swimmers’ briefing. Duncan and I did a practice swim together, settling position, communication and rhythm. Later, Mum and I met our skipper, JD, for lunch and got to know each other.
By race morning, this didn’t feel like a set of roles. It felt like people who were on an adventure together, invested in getting everyone across safely.
Gold caps and bagpipes
There were 75 of us in the 25 km ultra marathon, all wearing gold caps. We went off first.
We were piped to the start line with bagpipes playing Scotland the Brave. I didn’t expect to feel emotional — but I did. The noise, the crowd, and the knowledge that once you step forward, the distance is non‑negotiable.
After the national anthem and a Welcome to Country, all 75 of us were released into the water.
Making it an ultra: Stinger Highway
The straight line to Rottnest is 19.7 km. To make it an ultra, the course adds a 5.3 km dogleg at the start.
That section is called Stinger Highway.
It earned the name.
For about a kilometre and a half, especially close to shore, I swam through dense patches of jellyfish. Then a brief reprieve. Then more again as we turned back. Uncomfortable, but manageable — a reminder that in long swims, you don’t fight what’s there; you move through it.
The rhythm of a long day
Once we turned for Rottnest, the swim opened up. It was a warm day, the water clear and surprisingly warm, with shifting conditions — calm moments, wind against tide, and current that demanded patience.
There were times I felt strong and settled, and times I didn’t — moments of fatigue, small doubts, and a growing awareness of the sun beating down on my right side. I have very white Irish skin, and despite layers of sunscreen, some sunburn was inevitable.
What steadied me most wasn’t strength or pace, but the quiet certainty that I wasn’t carrying the day on my own.
Swimming alongside giants
One of the most surreal moments was swimming very close to a huge container ship — close enough that I stopped and asked Duncan to take a photo. Whilst I’ve seen ships on other swims, I’ve never swum that near to something so enormous. I even waved at the crew!
One swimmer in the water, global trade sliding past.
Sharks, safety, and serious organisation
My support boat was called Sharky, which felt fitting given there were reportedly a couple of shark sightings during the event. They were well north of the swimmers and never came near us.
What stood out was the scale of safety: helicopters, drones, spotters, kayakers, boats everywhere. It’s one of the most comprehensively managed open‑water events I’ve ever done — and that matters. A big shout‑out to the organisers, and to Port to Pub MD Ceinwen Williams.
The final approach
By this point, hours of unseen work — planning, watching, waiting — had already done their job.
At about 1,000 metres out, the support boat peeled away. Around 400 metres, the kayaker did too.
You’re on your own for the final stretch.
Lead ropes guide you in — for the first time, I could see where I was going. Then the stand‑up, wobble, and run up the beach — never elegant for me after nine hours horizontal, though some of my fellow swimmers managed a very fine sprint!
I stopped the clock at 9 hours and 20 minutes and won my age group (the older people one!).
Afterwards
I changed in the open‑air showers on the island. Music playing, bars open, people everywhere. I didn’t feel like food at all — not until I got home around 8.00 pm.
We climbed back onto Sharky, kayak included, and motored back to the mainland — about an hour and a half across the water, watching the sunset. Magic.
Gratitude
I’ve been incredibly lucky to be hosted by Jason and Nancy Shaw, who opened their home, handled logistics, early‑morning drop‑offs, pick‑ups, and everything in between. Nancy dropped Mum off. Jason dropped Duncan and me at the start. They picked us all up again afterwards.
And a huge shout‑out to my mum — up before dawn, on the boat, feeding me, watching conditions, supporting every step (and stroke). A massive day out, and I’m endlessly grateful.
What comes next
This was the first of six swims in a block towards a return to Japan.
Port to Pub was valuable — not just physically, but as a marker of what’s working and what needs sharpening.
Swimming for Kenzie’s Gift
As with my swims, this one was in support of Kenzie’s Gift. If you’re able to donate, I’d be deeply grateful:
https://grainne.kenziesgift.com/
“Individually, we are one drop. Together, we are an ocean.”
— Ryunosuke Satoro
Some swims are about speed.
Some are about survival.
This one was about people — those who stepped in, stepped up, and made it possible to get across that ocean.
I crossed the line after nine hours and twenty minutes, but I didn’t get there alone — not even close.
And that’s what I’ll carry forward into the next swims.
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