37 FramesA Little Family Story of Endurance, Salt and Siblings
Some people spend their Saturdays at a café. Others at the markets. (Others working weddings!)
But this particular Saturday? We spent it watching a brother swim almost 20 kilometers across the Indian Ocean.
Because on February 22, 2025, our family found itself in Perth, standing on the beach at Cottesloe, watching Greg … my middle brother … take on the legendary Rottnest Channel Swim. Almost 20 kilometers of rough, unpredictable water between the mainland and Rottnest Island. It’s one of the world’s most iconic open-water swims. And it’s not for the faint of heart.
Some goals are so audacious they almost sound like folklore. Greg’s dream to swim the English Channel in 2029 is one of those. Twenty-one miles of cold, unpredictable water, currents that don’t care about your plans, and history woven into every stroke. It’s not a bucket-list swim … it’s a life-defining one.
Dream Building
And like all big dreams, it’s built on smaller ones first. Stepping stones that are anything but small. Like, the Rottnest Channel Swim in Western Australia. Nineteen-point-seven kilometres of ocean between Cottesloe Beach and Rottnest Island.
The whole thing actually started as a bit of a laugh I think … tossed around by the boys at Jacob’s bucks night over too many beers and gin. One of those half-serious, half-ridiculous ideas that somehow takes root. But then it grew legs. And before we knew it, Greg was in full training mode at Enoggera Dam, Kai was committed as paddler, and Matt was rallying logistics like the youngest sibling always does. Suddenly, the “great idea at the time” had turned into 19.7km of Indian Ocean. Because the thing about Greg is… once he says it, he commits to it. What began as pub talk turned into training schedules, kayak practice at the Dam, and eventually, nineteen-point-seven kilometres of open ocean.
These swims aren’t always just about one person. They’re about the team. And this one was as eclectic, supportive, and occasionally as ridiculous as they come. And totally all in on the buck’s night idea!
Training, Sharks, and Mum’s Worry
For those who haven’t stood on Cottesloe beach before dawn on the morning of the swim, here’s what you need to know. The Rottnest Channel Swim is a 19.7km marathon across the open ocean. The water can be crystal calm one year, then choppy and cruel the next. You’re swimming with the swell, against the current, and often with jellyfish for company. And the extremely cold water.
Greg trained for months. Most weekends you could find him out at Enoggera Dam with Kai, his son, (our nephew) and Olympic swimmer, who kayaked beside him in quiet solidarity. Those sessions were more than just practice. They became bonding time between father and son. Conversations over water, silences broken only by the splash of a paddle, a rhythm of strokes and breaths that brought them even closer together.
Meanwhile, back in Brisbane, Mum had her own marathon to run … managing her nerves. Western Australia is, after all, great white shark territory. Shark fatalities are extremely rare, and attacks almost always mistakes when they do occur, but logic doesn’t quiet a mother’s heart. The day before the race, reports of sharks on the Shark Watch app nearly tipped her over the edge. She was absolutely proud, yes. But I think she only exhaled once Greg stepped foot onto Rottnest Island.
The Swim Itself: From Cottesloe to RottnestSwim
The morning of the race was wild. The sea rougher than expected, currents playing games with the swimmers. Greg pushed through, stroke after stroke. Kai kept pace in the kayak, a steady compass. Matt, our youngest brother, managed the operation from the support boat … keeping times, checking feeds, handling radios. Jacob, Greg’s other son (and our other nephew), was on board alongside Will, Greg’s best mate. Together, they formed a pit crew on water, equal parts cheer squad and crisis managers.
And me. No help at all on logistics … but I can be the storyteller with a camera in hand, because if you’re not filming it, did it even happen?
The rest of the family lined the beach. Cheering, worrying, waving. Swims like these aren’t just individual feats. They’re communal. One man in the water, but an army holding him up. And you could see it happening throughout the day with all the swimmers and their teams. So amazing to see.The Family Team
This was a family affair in every sense.
- Greg, the brother with the dream … and the stamina to chase it.
- Matt, our youngest brother… the organizer, the one who wrangled logistics, boats, and snacks, accommodation and flights with military precision.
- Kai, Greg’s son, fresh from the Paris Olympics, paddling alongside his dad the entire way. Every stroke mirrored with love, discipline, and quiet strength. Months in the making, forged over weekends at Enoggera Dam, logging kilometers in the quiet water before taking on the ocean.
- Jacob, our other nephew, calm and steady on the support boat, always ready with a joke, a beer, encouragement and a watchful eye.
- Will, Greg’s best mate, the kind of friend who shows up not just on race day but in every corner of life.
- Me, eldest sibling, and probably the bossiest, capturing the madness and the magic. (And ALL the audio of the day. Yes, I forgot the microphone was on me and recording for the film so we have more than 8 hours of every single conversation had that day. Perhaps not quite fit for public consumption. But you’ll hear a few little tamer quotes throughout the video!! )
- And then the rest of the family, lined up on the sand on Rottnest Island as the ultimate cheer squad. Waving, yelling, waiting, knowing full well Greg would meet whatever it gave him.
The boat captain warned everyone about seasickness. “No one gets out of this without it. It’s going to be sloppy out there,” he warned. But somehow, against all odds, our crew made it through without turning too green. (Although the ocean gave it a solid try.)
What It Took
Marathon swims aren’t glamorous. They’re gritty. They’re salt in your mouth, burn in your arms, and hours of nothing but water and willpower.
Watching Greg was equal parts awe-inspiring and exhausting. Every kilometer, he dug deeper. Every time the chop rose, he answered it with rhythm. And every time he looked up, there was Kai paddling steady and the support team on the boat, all eyes locked on his him, their bond of family and friendship stronger than the waves.
And finally, Rottnest came into view. The island. The finish line. The dream.
He made it. 06 h :03 min :29.23 sec of relentless swimming (might have gone under the 6 hour mark if him and the boys didn’t stop for a shoey in the Indian Ocean), but he amazingly reached Rottnest Island. No sharks. No seasickness. Just exhaustion, exhilaration, and the quiet triumph of knowing he’d crossed a channel most people only dream about.
More Than a Swim
But here’s the part you won’t find on the official race website. The swim was extraordinary, yes. But the real magic? It was in the people. Everyone there with one goal. To help Greg get over the line. To support. To document. To help him achieve his goals and dreams. Just as family does for each other.
I don’t want to sound dramatic… but I guess this is going to. Greg’s swim wasn’t just about distance. It was about courage. About setting a goal outrageous enough to terrify you (and if not him, then all of us and especially his mother…), and then building the discipline to face it stroke by stroke. It was about family, a brother on the boat, sons at his side, a best friend holding the line, Mum & Dad worrying from afar and a beach cheer squad that was pretty legendary.
And it was about beginnings. Because this wasn’t the end. This was training. A milestone on the way to the English Channel in 2029. A reminder that even the biggest dreams are made of smaller, braver moments stitched together.
We’ll be there for that one too. Cameras, kayaks, support boats, nerves, and all.
Until then, we’ll hold onto February 2025. To the rough seas, the long strokes, the nerves about sharks, the laughter about bucks-night bravado, and the quiet Cottesloe hours that followed.
Because the story of a swim isn’t just measured in kilometres. It’s measured in the people who made it possible.
Siblings
The next day, after the chaos and energy of race day had dissolved, the rest of the family had flown home and it was just the three of us. Pubs, drinks, swims at Cottesloe. Talking like we hadn’t in years. Remembering that before life got complicated, before careers and children and moves across the globe, we were just kids together. And somehow, for a moment, it felt like that again. Stupid jokes, debates no one asked for, salt-streaked, sunburned, but together.
Why It Matters
This swim was part of something bigger. A goal of swimming the English Channel in 2029. The Everest of open water. Every grueling crossing, every marathon distance, is a step toward that dream.
But Rottnest wasn’t just “training.” It was a victory in itself. Proof of strength, discipline, and that unshakable stubbornness that runs deep in our family.
And for me? It was a reminder that stories aren’t just weddings, or travels, or even once-in-a-lifetime photographs. They’re also moments like this: a brother chasing a dream, another brother making it possible, sons so proud, family showing up for each other, and me trying to hold it all in my camera and my heart.
Final Reflection
The Rottnest Channel Swim is tough. It’s long. It’s unpredictable. But so is life.
And when you take it on with your people … your siblings, your kids, your friends, your family … it becomes more than a race. It becomes a memory that lives in every stroke, every cheer, every pub laugh the next day.
Greg, we couldn’t be prouder. And we can’t wait to see you on the English Channel in 2029.
Until then, cheers to the salt, the swim, and the stories… and yes, maybe even a celebratory shoey (because what’s an Aussie finish line without one?)
📋 Filmed with love (and sunscreen) by Tracey | 🐬 Powered by family, grit, shark-watch apps, and one very steady kayak
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