A Great Day For a Swim

I left the house a little after noon. The skies are cloudy today. My phone says they are supposed to become partly cloudy any time now but it has been saying that for the last couple of hours and I’m not seeing any signs of this coming to pass here in real life. I feel like I have been cold all morning and part of me can’t believe that I am actually going to get in the water but I can’t think of any compelling reason not to. Rather than slipping into some kind of semi catatonic state of indecision and wondering if I should really swim or engage in some other kind of exercise, I decide I’m just going to do it and I will myself forward all the way to the beach parking lot and down the stairs.

A guy is coming up the steps as I am on my way down and he says to me, “A great day for a swim!” I respond, ”That’s right! Why not?” I say this with all the enthusiasm I wish I had and ignore the hundred reasons I am thinking of why not to do this. The fact is I am committed now. Really, once I am in my car and on my way, there is no turning back.

Wow it is rocky on this shore. It’s a mid tide - about 3 feet - but it might as well be high tide. There is very little sand to walk on. The beach is dominated by rocks the size of my toddler son’s hands. They are nice looking rocks, sure, but not nearly as adorable as my son’s hands. I see three big shells just like the one I took home on Monday. The one that is most in tact also seems to be inhabited by a living creature so it’s gonna stay right here.

I set down my pack and jettison my shirt and sweater in exchange for my goggles. I get in the water just as a set is rolling in. The waves are small but until I pass the first dip just ahead, the break water crashes on this rocky shore right at my feet. I imagine that I could just run through this white water, push forward past that dip and dive under the next oncoming wave all in a matter of a couple seconds. However I think that requires an inner reservoir of energy that exceeds my current capacity.

I let a few waves pass, mosey down the initial ledge of this rocky floor and soon dive under the next wave. Ok. That wasn’t so hard. Now I am swimming south. Sheesh it is cold. A fire burns in my torso and there seems to be some kind of blockage between my brain and my legs because I just can’t seem to fire the neurons necessary to generate movement. It’s slow at first but I manage a weak sort of kicking motion that develops into a normal stride soon enough.

Surfline says it is 57 degrees. Last' night’s water temperature forecast predicts slight warming by this time net week. Mmmm…warming. I like the way that sounds. Anyways by the time I reach the houses south of the lifeguard hut, I am starting to feel comfortable enough.

I reach the south end of the beach and I’m feeling pretty good. I turn around and head for Salt Creek. I place my attention on the electric surge of energy I feel all around my torso. I try to really feel the cold as it is and not get lost in the cold I imagine it to be. The edge on this electricity grows ever more sharp the further north I swim. I yell in my inner ear that I am OK and I can do this and I believe it and appreciate the pep talk.

The light around me is gaining intensity as the sun starts to slowly poke through the thinning cloud cover. I see a gap widening between the edge of the horizon and the grey gauzy fuzziness of the clouds just above. A soft light finds its way through that space and casts a soft glow on the surface of the water in my immediate field of vision.

Soon here I am right in front of the north end bathrooms and I grab a few pics and then make the final leg to my starting position about 10 minutes south. The light is starting to expose the ocean floor which is also becoming more shallow as I angle myself slightly towards the beach. I lake a hard left and aim straight for those houses on the bluff. I can tell I’m super close but I can’t feel the bottom. Just a few more strokes and my feet brush against the rocks below me. A couple waves help to nudge me forward and I can now sort of walk but I’m at that precarious place just below the ledge of gravely rock and the surging water pulls me back and doesn’t want to let me go. One final breaking wave gives me the momentum I need to crest that ledge and I’m free.

I don’t feel as cold as I imagined I might feel after getting out of the water. The short scramble to the concrete ramp that leads to the stairs is a slow and somewhat painful dance over these rocks. I try to find whatever small patches of sand there might be or at least a flat rock but there is mostly just these awkwardly sized rounded rock that is hard to balance on in bare feet.

I make it to the ramp and start up the asphalt road and a guy in the Niguel Shores parking lot yells down to me and asks me if I saw the Dolphins. I say that I didn’t and he says there were three just 20 feet further out from me that swam across from me for about 100 yards. Wow, I sure wish I would have seen them but it is also cool just knowing they were there.