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In dark times, of wars and the cost of living crisis, where is comfort and solace? Where is the neutral ground? What do you do if you drive around Western Sydney a lot, have a bad hip and that needs some rehab? – municipal aquatic (nee leisure) centres. For a cheap half-kilometre swim, some stretching and a dry sauna, go west.
Why go to a Western Sydney aquatic centre? Why write an article about them? Ocean pools and the coast are more interesting. Every surf club is full of intrigue. Weird stuff washes up. But there is something suburban and local about an aquatic centre.
It’s made fun and real life. And let’s face it, there is something a bit same-same about the coast, regular tides, parking metres and high real estate prices. The good food, free parking and people are all out west.
Ian Thorpe Aquatic Centre
We start in the inner west with Thorpie because it is the standard. An emblem of the City of Sydney’s 2000 Olympic success, and is empty midday during the week. Initiated by the mayoral regime of Frank Sartor and designed by Harry Seidler. Built by Clover (Moore, City of Sydney Lord Mayor) in 2004, someone had to figure out the budget.
The lap swimming is good, and there is a well-appointed steam room and dry sauna. The crowd is eclectic and often has a few tourists. After the anti-immigration march last year, a tattooed patriot making a long weekend of it, was mouthing off at two blokes speaking Mandarin in the steam room.
They politely ignored his “go home, to where you came from” jibes, but what do you say to a muscled man in board shorts and a Southern Cross tattoo? If everyone else is ignoring him, nothing. There’s a lesson for the new member of Farrer.
The Ian Thorpe Pool is as far east as we go today. No picnicking at Parsley Bay and languid bottles of rosé by the Harbour. We are looking for the motorways – the Ms.
To the Rozelle Interchange, we must, or as we like to call it, the Transurban sinkhole. The beep of the toll ticking over tells you you’re in an M. Note to self, buy Transurban for SMSF. Who cares anyway? Still, those silly protests about West Connex. Tony Abbott said, “You’re only really free when you’re driving”. I suppose everyone’s sense of freedom is different.
I find Sydney’s road tunnels timeless and vast; you could be anywhere, and as I travel them, I often have a sinking feeling that this is where we end up when something goes bad. These places are dual use, like the Kiev Metro.
We ride to the St. Peter’s Junction and swing into the M8, via the M4-M5 link, resurfacing in time for the Beverly Hills turn off.
Roselands Aquatic Centre
In a suburb far, far away, a man called Frank Lowy built his first shopping centre. A shiver of fear should have rattled down every main street. But I am not here to judge because at some point, the council did a deal with Frank, and an Aquatic Centre was born. Well, that’s what it looks like.
The architecture here would be described as ad-hoc functionalism (not a patch on the Thorpie). Back off, girlfriend, this is not about design. There is plenty of free parking, and Roselands is on a middle ring diaspora fault line, so the shoppers are diverse and have an eye for value. Before you swim, get a bag of groceries and a shirt from Myers (sadly closing). Or try my favourite after sauna snack, artisan tofu at Belmore.
Roseland Aquatic Centre is a simple brick courtyard pool in the northeast corner of the shopping centre. The 50 metre pool is in the sunny bit. The main pool has elliptical edges and never seems busy for lap swimmers. There is a quirky dry sauna off the courtyard and a slushie machine at the entry ($10.50 for a swim sauna ticket must be the cheapest wellness in Sydney).
The sauna crowd varies from locals to footy club boys and girls. A young bloke with rugby league muscles hit it on the head in there when he explained, this place just needs a flat screen. This is the Shangri-La of Aquatic Centres, a gem hiding in a shopping centre car park.
Back on the M8 and the Aqualand Towers of Liverpool await.
Gough Whitlam Aquatic Centre
Did Gough dip in the spa out here? Highly likely, as the levels of hot tub folliculitis recorded here, I am told, feel like they crawled out of the pool of a 1970s ALP conference, yeah, one Richo had been in. That aside, this place is a quiet temple of suburban retreat.
Image: Whitlam Institute
The dry sauna is good, and the spa is for the risk takers. There is also an outdoor, heated 50 m swimming pool that never seems too busy.
The crowd is that perfect blend you could only get in south-west Sydney, elderly Laotian, Anglo-Aussie and Levantine, calm and all getting along well.
Liverpool is a place of need. You need cash, you pick up a contract in Liverpool. Your GP sends you there to get a cheap scan when you have cancer. The ATMs out the front of the Commonwealth Bank cascade rental money to dodgy landlords, and the parole office is just opposite the station on Speed Street.
A clammy indoor pool, a spicy spa, a passible dry sauna and heaps of free parking. As Gough would say, “it’s time”, we moved on.
On the road
As we plough north-west towards the Aerotropolis and the emerging Western Sydney Airport, I say a little acknowledgement of Country to myself. Thanks for the Western Sydney Deal, and I finger kiss and mark the photo of Malcom and Lucy on the dashboard.
The fringes of Sydney are kinetic places right now and so affected by planning, but in a good way, until it floods or one of those LA urban fires has a go. And the planning out here has been the big picture infrastructure kind. It seems to be working.
The infrastructure defines the character of the place. The M4 runs up the middle; to the south-west, the Middle East diaspora is settling in, and to the north-west, Sydney’s Indian community is vibrant.
There is even a suburban hierarchy developing around the new airport. Who would have thought Horsley Park would be the new Pagewood? So often the reality of planning in Sydney is holding back economic desire, all that nasty stuff – R2 zones, 8.5 m height limits and conservation areas. Nice to see some old-school desire to have a go on the fringe. And as always, I wonder whether that’s the best place for it.
It’s a long drive from Liverpool across fringe Sydney to the next aquatic centre. We could talk diaspora energy – that’s a big issue on the fringe, and the weird counterpoint to anti migrant talk. When people talk about reducing migration because they are worried about the environment or house prices, what does that mean? It’s feeding steak to the dog, while homeless people go through your bin.
But then there is the reality of migration in Sydney. The energy building on our city fringes and around the new airport is mostly migrant – dashie kiss M&L, (Malcolm and Lucy), the person cooking you a meal is likely a migrant, and if you get sick and go to a hospital, that lovely woman from the Philippines who sat with you and gossiped about real estate overnight is a recent migrant. People need to get off the internet and, on an M, out west.
The real issue on the fringes of Sydney is the lack of well-placed aquatic centres, and Bents Basin is only good for the cold plunge. The area needs a dry sauna (with flat screen, bro) into a cold Nepean plunge, and call the manager right now. Why is there no bungee platform on that river?
Parklea Aquatic Centre
(Not really, it’s called the Blacktown Leisure Centre, Stanhope, not to be confused with the not so good and soon to be redeveloped Blacktown Aquatic Centre).
As we cross the M4 on the M7, I salute the Lighthorse installation. Onto the flood plains of the north-west we venture, into what I call with affection the onion belt of Sydney, and the Blacktown Leisure Centre, Stanhope opposite Parklea Correctional Centre.
The last time I went to Parklea was to visit someone serving time for receiving. That was 30 years ago; it was all farmland then. Now it’s a vibrant part of Sydney and still has low security.
Onions aside, we are in prime bathing time, and Blacktown Leisure Centre Stanhope is the centre you never knew existed that has everything – an indoor lap pool, wave pool, sauna, fitness centre, creche, stadium and lovely garden outlook. The sauna crowd were serious rehab types and into stillness.
Back to the backbone M, the M4. The twin towers of Meriton loom as we approach Parramatta. Some turnoff confusion unfolds, and that’s tough around here because everyone seems to be in their car.
Parramatta Aquatic Centre
The ICAC investigation required here is how this pool won so many awards. Opened in 2023 and, this will hurt some people, but this pool is what goes wrong when design goes too far.
It’s personal, but I found the weird wristband entry clunky, the web-based booking system gobbled my money at least once, there was poor behaviour in the car park, and the nail in the coffin, the use of polished concrete on the pool deck. Call me a traditionalist, but what’s wrong with getting the basics right, free parking, entry ticket on arrival, slip-resistant surfaces and a slushie machine?
Look, it’s all there, and it’s brand new too. The young staff were all local kids and welcoming. Back on the M4.
Sauna is hard work; I avoid fried food and try to eat healthy. At this point, it’s time for a refuel, and it’s always worth stopping at Harris Park, where Sydney’s Nepalese and Indian community are building Sydney’s premier eat street for vegetarians. This is the stuff you need mid sauna bender. I avoid those buttery sweets, though.
Olympic Park
Another promise, followed by disappointment. It’s the first aquatic centre that looks like it was built in an Ant Hill.
If you like lap swimming, the main pool is monumental. Close your eyes and channel your inner Olympian.
The leisure areas here are good, and I suppose one of my criticisms of this centre is that it has it all, it tries to be something for everyone, real Olympic pools, a river play pool and well-appointed dry sauna, steam room and spas. Probably for that reason, it always seems busy, but it’s worth a visit.
Ryde Aquatic Centre
I remember taking the kids there when they did swim carnivals and noticing all the facilities, and thinking must come back here, on my time.
An architect I work with is around the corner. We often have a beer while discussing a project. It was becoming a habit. I thought it would be good to do something a bit different, something healthy and have the sauna spa at Ryde instead. A bit like a civilised visit to the Roman bath house, but not really. I did some reconnaissance.
A theme of these visits is interaction with the community; there are risks beyond rash. The day I took the Ryde dry sauna and spa, the place wasn’t for me. There was a strange over-talking retired crowd, imagine a golf club hearing aid convention. And a rival group of the same age, mainlanders, ignoring them and actively exfoliating all over the place. It was like a weird deal being played out in front of you – if I can talk shit, you can scrape it off. Donald Trump and Xi are taking the waters, doing a deal. In my panic, I didn’t really clock the other facilities, so you have to Google that.
After the trauma of Ryde, I calmed myself in the car park by imagining Mike Baird in chinos. It always works, dashie kiss M&L, and I headed down Victoria Road looking for tunnels.
Lane Cove Aquatic Leisure Centre
I was thinking, do I hate the North Shore, then I realised, Ryde’s not the North Shore and Lane Cove barely is too, but its dry sauna and spa leaves Ryde in a pile of toe clippings and foot dust.
Part of the joy of an aquatic centre is its ad-hocness, and as Sydney’s leading centre theorist likes to explain, it’s through the search for multi-functionalisms that the centre falls into ad-hocness. The pull of leisure and fitness, the yin and yang of centre theorists, all project managed by your local council. Personally, I find the existential theory of the centres attractive –these structures are outside architecture. It’s why a centre like Roseland can best an award winner like Parramatta.
Lane Cove Aquatic Leisure Centre (emphasis added) is a return to form.
Its hidden address and lack of a well-defined entry are not design flaws but signs of its organic origin, some kind of council compromise. And within the facility, there is outdoor lap swimming and a sauna, steam room, and spa designed for relaxation and rehabilitation.
What of the crowd in the relaxation and rehabilitation facilities? The day I was there, it was multicultural, no over-talking or exfoliation. No need for a self-soothing chino session after. Well done, Lane Cove.
As I reached for my towel, I realised my fingers looked like sultanas (did one just fall off?) and my day of Sydney sauna west has come full circle. Time to turn to the last of the tunnels, some big ones, the Lane Cove and then the Harbour, bing goes the toll way, bling. bling, bling.
Favourable mentions
Ashfield Aquatic Centre – a favourite new one, where the architects did not blow their horn too much. Good dry sauna, steam room and spa. Outdoor laps. Issues are that it’s always busy, and the attendants like to move you on with the half sauna ticket. Crime does not pay here.
And the Salties
Drummoyne Pool – Boy Charlton West
Lap swimming only, but it’s salty and on the harbour. The local water polo clubs train here on weekdays after 5.00 pm sometimes. That’s its only busy time. The water polo players have a fun energy.
Another lap is only salty but worth the visit. It’s quiet on the weekend.
The reviewed aquatic centre have been visited by the author but not all in the one day. Do not spend a day visiting all these centres. That would be silly and likely lead to extreme dehydration, traffic hazards, and heavy tolling.
Philip Bull is the principal of Civic Assessment a development consulting business, focused on development and social impact assessment. He has worked in the planning departments of Woollahra, Botany, South Sydney, Randwick, the City of Sydney and Waverley Councils.