I thought it was going to be another fight with the fog this morning. When I opened Surfline at about 5:30 on my phone, the cached image (an image saved sometime in the last few minutes) revealed a completely fogged out beach, but the real time footage was clear. Great!

Later at about 6:15 shortly before I was going to leave, the fog comes in again. Over the next 20 minutes the fog waxes and wanes, fades and coalesces until 6:45 rolls around and I have to make a decision. It is either gonna be beach or gym and I’d really like the choice to be beach. I check the cams and it looks pretty darn clear again. I realize this can change quickly but whatever. The surf should be small and I’ll swim extra close to shore if I need to.

When I get to the parking lot, the fog looks like a done deal. Done, as in it is done for the day. No more. I see a possible bank way out shore but it doesn’t look threatening. I still realize things can always change quickly but it looks very promising.

Also, what a freaking beautiful morning. The sky is absolutely crystal clear and the water is smooth and the sun is just rising over the bluff. No one, or almost no one, is here and it is quiet and extremely peaceful.

I walk down the stairs and once I get a look at the north stretch of the beach, I do see a very thin film of haze resting on the shore but it’s going nowhere but…well…nowhere.

The sun hasn’t quite hit the sand and is currently resting several feet off shore. The water feels warmer on my feet today but this could be a psychological illusion. At this early hour my brain expects cooler water and the fact that the water is not icy makes it register as warm.

As I walk to the spot from where I will start my swim, a walker passes me and then turns and asks me if I maintain a blog with my pictures. I respond that I do and he says he saw it on Patch which featured some of my pics last week.

I get in the water and it is indeed cool. It’s not winter or anything but lets just say that Hawaii is far far away. Still it is tolerable. This cold skirts the edge where you notice it is cold but then when you place your attention on the cold, you realize it is not terrible.

I start to swim out and soon pass that rapidly moving line that separates sun from shade. I appreciate being within the sun’s reach.

I am also thankful that these goggles are tinted and makes this southbound perspective tolerable. The sun sits in the sky like an all powerful presence that sees all and can touch anything it chooses. Choose me. Choose me! My skin screams.

Below the ocean surface it is very dark. The angle of the sun has not yet reached the ocean floor and the contrast in luminescence above and below water is stark.

I swim and I swim and I swim. I try to stay close to shore even though fog seems non-existent right now. With the glare, it is hard to determine my proximity but I’m pretty sure I am not very far so I just remain on my track heading south.

I can see the point in front of me get closer and closer until it seems extremely close and I start to look for my milestone rock. There it is. Once I am parallel to it, I pause and just seconds before I pass another sun/shade barrier created by the cliffs below the Dana Point headlands.

Compared to a moment ago I am now in near darkness by contrast and I can see the contours and detail of the cliffs and surrounding rocks that were just rough outlines before.

I take in the sites. Sites that I have taken in maybe a thousand times but look different every day. There are so many nuances that can change the mood and temperament of the scenery: weather, time and season being the main influencers.

I turn around and head north for the Salt Creek lifeguard tower. The sun shines bright on Monarch point and the hills above Laguna. The water that sits in between us lays still like butter but it breaths in sync with the constant rhythm of the swell and slight breeze.

I feel in good spirits out here today. First it’s hard not to be in this setting and I’m looking forward to hanging out with my 2.5 year old son who just got back from a 9 day road trip last night.

I’m looking at the horizon now which looks like an effervescent pink and purple glow rising so slightly from the furthest most edge of the water.

Every now and then I pass a floating clump of seaweed which hang in the water like ghosts in this dark water. Their leaves are illuminated by the oncoming sun light.

About 2 thirds down the beach, I can see the sun finally hitting the north end of the beach in front of the bathrooms and jr. guard shipping container. The sand looks like it is glowing beneath the bluff that is still shrouded in shade.

I hear something. It almost sounds mechanical in rhythm. There is something hitting the water in a constant beat syncopated with the sound of an exerted breath. Oh look. It’s another swimmer. He is super close and geting closer and closer until he passes me. We can’t be more than 15 feet apart but he looks oblivious to my presence here or maybe just chooses to be.

Now I’m close to those bathrooms which is my cue to turn around. I don’t have time to dilly dally today. My wife is understandably wiped out from her tip and I want to be back before our son wakes up. I swim another minute just to be sure I have reached my northern goal. I don’t want to lose any points - that’s for sure.

I turn around and head south. The beauty here is just stunning as I watch the top of the bluff roll by. I’m angled slightly inland and as I get closer to my destination I am pretty close to the shore.

I finish up and see a school of small fish below me hovering just above the sand in this chest deep water. A wave rolls by and they are gone.

I hit the beach just as the Sunday morning swim crew is heading up the asphalt ramp. I catch up to the ones in the back of the pack and we converse as we climb the stairs. I ask them if they swam last Sunday during Tropical Storm Hillary. They said they showed up but the beach was closed. The stairs were blocked off. Well, now I REALLY don’t feel bad about not swimming that day.