Travelling by road in Sydney from the city to the beachside suburb of Manly, after you have passed through Neutral Bay and Cremorne and Spit Junction, the road winds its way down to a sparkling Middle Harbour and the Spit Bridge.
If it was 1956, just after the Melbourne Olympics, and if you stopped at the bottom of the hill, where the trams disappear up Parriwi Road, and if you turned right and walked under the dark and putrescent Moreton Bay Figs, you would see ahead the flaking weatherboard sheds of the Spit Baths.
You would see children in their swimmers and sandals, with zinc cream on their noses and towels curled on their heads like Beau Geste, dawdling along.
At the entrance to the baths you put a penny into a turn-style and lean your skinny body against the cold steel gate to push your way in. And suddenly you are back in the dazzling light of the morning sun.
Your first thoughts are of food, because you can smell the fantales and cobbers, freckles, liquorices and other sweets (two a penny) set out in a latticework of wooden containers on the kiosk counter, beside the turn-styles.
You can run your hands through the sweets. Nobody is watching. The kiosk is unattended. And as you look at the sweets you notice something shining, golden, among them; and something shining silver.
There are at least four gold medals there, and at least one silver, and more. You can pick them up, feel their weight. Smell them. You could walk off with them if you wanted to. There are no signs, no fanfares. It's not a big deal. No security guard, no advertising, no stardom, no rip off.
These are the medals that our Spit Swimming Club members won at the Melbourne Olympics. It helps that two of our members are Murray Rose (pictured) and John Devitt, who are coached by the manager of the Baths, Sam Herford. But we are all coached by Sam Herford. He taught us to swim. Not that there are very many of us.
The Spit Baths consist of two swimming areas bounded by boardwalks built on piles sunk into Middle Harbour. During the summer king tides, the water rises above the level of the decking.