A Cloud Swaddled Ocean

I left the house at 6:15 and got to an overcast Strand parking lot at 6:30. I took a run through the harbor and was in my swim trunks and heading down the stairs by 7:45. The air is nearly still and the ocean surface is smoother than I have seen in a while.

It’s low tide - a -0.5 - and just starting to climb back up. I see the early Sunday morning swim crew heading in for shore. I chat with one on the sand and we discuss water temperature - a favorite open water swimmer’s topic. We are both looking forward to 70 - that magical, blissful number.

I intersect with another couple swimmers just as I make it past the surf. We too talk about the water temperature and wish eachother happy Mother’s day. Neither of us are mothers.

It is hard not to mention water temperature today when things were 5 degrees colder just hardly a week ago. Sure it’s not 70, but in a way it might as well be. Today it feels about half way in between yesterday and Friday which is good. I felt mostly comfortable over the entire swim. There were a couple of brief cold spots and a few warm patches but it was mostly a refreshing coolish sensation that I would not label cold.

The entire swim is just as grey as can be today. There is no hint of approaching sun, but it is nice and cozy in it’s own way. These clouds are like a blanket that swaddles the ocean and everything in it.

I pass through fields of floating kelp that appear to be content to be here. The water is a lovely calm teal with spots of effervescent white that fall upon the furry tentacles of seaweed that reach up for me as I swim by.

As I swim north after my initial turnaround at the south end of the beach, I stare into the smooth grey horizon. I empty my breath into the ocean and feel peace out here. I try to let go of the lifeguard tower ahead which is my destination. I will inevitably get there eventually. For now, everything is just water and light. I feel my body splash through the surface of the water and from time to time my hand catches a stray piece of seaweed. It clings to me for a second and then it is released behind me - just a memory for me but I wonder what else will interact with that piece of seaweed before it eventually decays into nothingness.

I see several boats on the water this morning. I hear a tinny hum underneath the water. I raise myself to try and find its source but no longer hear anything and finally I can barely see a boat passing me a couple hundred feet offshore of me. I put my head back in the water and there is that sound once again. Sound does carry farther in the water that it does above the surface. For a while, with the hum of the boat and my own breath, things sound downright noisy here.

Further north up the beach I am surprised to see a fairly large cabin cruiser inshore of me. It looks out of place. It is uncommon to see boats that close to shore. I’m not sure if there are regulations about those sort of things (I imagine there are), but who am I gonna call?

Shortly past the encounter with the boat, I have resumed my thoughtless stroking and kicking and in an instant there are at least a half dozen pelicans zooming south just a few feet west of me and inches above the surface. I can see their intense eyes dead set ahead of them. I quickly grab my camera but they are long gone.

The swim is getting close to done at this point and I’m really looking forward to the coffee and banana nut bread I’m gonna pick up from Starbucks afterwards. It’s hard not to think of that and why shouldn’t I?

I finish up and head up the stairs in a semi-jog because I’m on a schedule to get to Laguna by 10:00. I change into my comfy street clothes at my car. It dawns on me now that I am dry and ready to start my day that this place feels so utterly of home. A good home that one would be eager to return to after spending time away.