6️⃣0️⃣ For Every 60-Year-Old Woman Out There Who Doubts Her Abilities, 60 Is Just a Number
The Story of Yolanda Carstens and Simone Blaser's Epic 34km Derwent River Swim
Hey Swimmers,
If you’re staring at the forecast for this weekend and feeling that familiar sinking feeling about the Rottnest Channel Swim, I want you to pause.
Breathe.
And remember this: a cancelled swim is not a cancelled dream.
Sometimes the water says no.
And sometimes that “no” is simply redirecting you to a better, stronger, more meaningful “yes” down the track.
On Monday at 3:45am, in pitch black conditions at New Norfolk in Hobart, two women from our Swim Smooth Perth Squad slipped into the Derwent River to begin a 34km journey under strict English Channel rules. No touching the boat. Feeds every 30 minutes. Darkness for the first two and a half hours.
Nine hours and eight minutes later, they swam beneath the Tasman Bridge.
Yolanda Carstens and Simone Blaser are now among only 151 people to have completed this swim since it began in 1973.
Let that sink in.
The Swim They Said They Wouldn’t Do
Simone will tell you she once said she’d never do the Derwent.
Too cold.
Too expensive.
Too far away.
But good friends have a way of nudging you beyond your comfort zone. After ticking off two legs of the Australian Triple Crown, she teamed up with Yolanda and committed to the iconic 34km swim as a tandem.
They booked a year in advance.
Cold showers. Ice baths. Winter Swan River swims in Perth.
Six sessions a week through summer.
Long ocean miles. Squad sessions. Shore-2-Shore. Christmas 10km.
And then Tasmania.
The swim was postponed by a day. Just enough to stir nerves.
Sound familiar?
If Rottnest doesn’t go ahead this weekend, you’re not alone in that emotional space.
But here’s where Yolanda’s story really matters.
False Bay Didn’t Happen
Yolanda had been building towards a 34km False Bay swim in South Africa for months.
Solo ocean kilometres.
16 degree pool sessions without lanes.
10 degree ocean swims.
A 24km qualifier.
Night swims.
Weeks of waiting for a weather window.
Six weeks.
And then… nothing.
Relentless 40km winds. No start. No swim.
She came home heartbroken. Demotivated. Questioning the point of it all.
That is the part we don’t talk about enough in marathon swimming. The quiet resilience required when the ocean simply refuses to cooperate.
But something shifted.
Instead of staying stuck in disappointment, she reframed.
Derwent became the new focus.
Training resumed. Consistently. Relentlessly. Six sessions a week. 27 to 35km per week. No skipped sets. Plenty of hard conversations in lane 2 when fatigue set in.
And on Monday morning, in that tranquil black water, it all came together.
Bubble. Bubble. Breathe.
They swam side by side the entire 34km.
Boat on Simone’s right.
Yolanda on the left.
Christmas lights strung on their support boat “Meow”.
Feeds on the half hour. Honey and rooibos tea. Baby food. Gels. Real Coke.
For the first few hours, Yolanda counted strokes.
Sixty strokes.
Five times.
Feed.
When doubt crept in, she went back to the basics we talk about all the time: hand entry, rotation, push back not down, one goggle out.
The sun rose.
They passed Bridgewater Bridge at halfway. Friends had flown in from Perth and threw flowers from above. A surprise coffee appeared for the skipper mid-river. Laughter cut through fatigue.
After the halfway mark, the current arrived.
And then came the words every marathon swimmer longs to hear:
“Three feeds to go!”
Nine hours and eight minutes after starting, they swam under the Tasman Bridge. Relief. Pride. Tears held back. A proper hug at the finish.
Water temperatures between 18 and 19 degrees, dipping to 16 in places. The cold training had worked.
The program had worked.
No injuries. No niggles.
Just two very happy swimmers.
And Here’s the Part That Matters Most
Yolanda is 60.
And she swam the best swim of her life.
Better, she says with a wink, than Rottnest.
False Bay didn’t happen. That still hurts.
But without that disappointment, without that forced patience, without that waiting game, Derwent might not have unfolded the way it did.
So if you’re feeling flat about this weekend’s forecast, please hear this clearly:
The training is not wasted.
The early mornings still count.
The cold swims still count.
The kilometres are still in the bank.
The ocean does not owe us perfect conditions. But it often gives us something else in return: resilience.
For every 60-year-old woman who doubts her ability.
For every swimmer who thinks the window has passed.
For anyone who feels derailed by a cancelled event.
Sixty is just a number.
And a postponed swim might just be the beginning of your best one yet.
Stay patient.
Your Derwent is coming.
Thanks for reading,
Yolanda’s, Simone’s and Your Coach, Paul
