A Whole Other World

I wasn’t planning on swimming today. In fact I intentionally wanted to take today off from swimming to recover after swimming four days in a row after going over a week without a swim. However, today ended up being too perfect NOT to swim. It’s over 70 degrees out, little wind, no surf, clear skies and I know the water will be comfortable. We are entering late October, how many more days like this will the year bring? Who knows, maybe quite a few, but there is an increasing likelihood that the numbers are limited.

So off to the beach I go at about 10:00. It’s a lovely lovely day. I get to the parking lot and snag my favorite spot. I notice that the free trolley providing stair-less access to the beach is still running. I wonder how much longer that will last. The sign at the funicular says service runs through Labor Day but that was over a month ago.

I head to the stairs. I want to check out the bathrooms to see if an “issue” I noticed yesterday has been cleaned up yet. I won’t be providing any more detail than that. If you were in the men’s bathroom yesterday morning, you will know what I’m talking about. I decide life is too short to worry myself about this and decide to head to the shore.

I empty my mind as I walk down the stairs. The water has some texture on it and there is a slight breeze. The ocean is a dark navy blue.

I get to the shore and it’s approaching high tide but still plenty of sand to walk on. I have some last minute indecision as to which direction to swim today. A north bound swim into Salt Creek looks like it would be very delightful but I’m thinking of possibly making another attempt at swimming around the headlands. With no surf, comfortable water, and higher tide, this might be an ideal day to give this a try.

I had tried this about 6 weeks ago but the water was pretty murky and it was too early in the morning for decent light to illuminate below the water’s surface. I got to the westernmost end of the point and could almost, but not quite, see around the corner. I saw enough to tell that it would probably be pretty cool.

For all I know today could be a flop too. It has not been super clear but it could clear up along the edge of the point where there will be far less sand and every day of low surf holds the potential to add to the clarity of the water. I’m feeling game to give it a shot. My primary enemy will be time. I have a ton of work to do and can’t be lingering out here for hours.

I walk into the water, and like yesterday, it feels kind of cold. Maybe my expectations just are not calibrated quite right. After I start swimming for a bit I’m fine and it feels about the same as yesterday which is cool but comfortable.

The water does look a little more clear than yesterday but still not great. There is even less surf than yesterday if that’s possible.

I enjoy the south bound trip to the end of the beach. It feels like it is moving quickly. Before I know it I am at the middle stairs. I’m trying to place my attention on everything that enters my range of sight. I want to empty myself of all projections of thought, memory, and inner dialog. However I also know this is impossible.

Before I know it, here I am. I’m just behind the big rock that is usually my turn around point but today I just pivot 90 degrees and start to head west and hug the cliffs beneath the headlands close but not too close.

I swim for a while and the water is kind of cloudy in spots but I can see well enough. I can tell where the rocks are and once I am super close, I can enjoy some pretty fine detail. Visibility is way better than the morning I last tried this several weeks ago.

I’m getting pretty close to the larger (I think the largest) rock you can see that is farther offshore that often has lots of birds on it. I’m Just far enough west now that I have a good view of the end of the headlands. Wow. This is super cool.

At the north west edge of this point (Dana Point) there are a few caves where there looks to be about 5 to 8 feet of space between the water and the rock. It’s been a good long while, but I have walked in font of those at lower tide and have gone inside them. With this high tide it looks like you could swim in. I decide not to, but it really doesn’t look like it would be too treacherous today. I’m sure there are other days where it would be quite dangerous.

I swim a little further and now I am just a few feet from that rock and I can see farther down the western end of the point. This is so cool. It’s like a whole other world opens up here. There is a sort of cobble beach then sits below the cliff. There are green patches of brush here and there that line the lower part of the bluff and add color to the scenery. I’ve walked on that cobble lots of times. It looks as though I could swim right up to it. However it also looks like there is some shore break, albeit small, that would make that unpleasant.

What I see below the water is totally cool but there really is not a whole lot of marine life on display. I see lots of the smaller silver fish and several Garibaldi. I start to veer to the south. I’m not sure how much further I’ll go. It’s becoming clear that I’m not going to have time to swim to the Ocean Institute but I want to go a little farther.

There is this rock that I usually see from a distance but now it is super close. It looks like a seal or a dog. There is a bird sitting on its nose. I’m entering into a clearing of sand.

The water right here is quite clear. It is also shallow but deep enough that I can’t touch the bottom. Much of this area is only a few feet deep with grass covered rock below and there are a couple spots that are just inches deep where you can see a little bit of breaking water over the surface.

I get to maybe half way down this western tip of the point. It looks like the entire edge spans about 500 to 1000 feet. It’s hard to tell from this perspective. It is super cool to see the hills of San Clemente and Camp Pendleton beyond. I’m so used to this point being the southernmost boundary of all I can see on my swims. Right now I can see miles and miles further south. I can even see the Eucalyptus trees of the harbor.

I’m just going to have to postpone further exploration for a non-work day. I’m not entirely sure how long I have been out here but I’m guessing it’s time to head back. I think time has been passing quicker than normal with the novelty of the scenery.

I swim back around the outer side of that big rock. I feel just a little exposed out here being outside the protection of the bay-like contours inside Strands and Salt Creek. I point myself due East and am relieved to find that I’m able to make steady progress shoreward. It’s not like there are rouge currents out here that will sweep me out to sea. Right?

I swim toward those caves. I don’t intend to enter them but I want to get into that immediate area. There is a sort of reef that borders the cliffs here. About an 8 feet tall ridgeline that extends from the sand to just below, and in places slightly above, the water. It looks like there are some saddles and passes that would allow for easy passage to the pool on the other side. I’d love to explore this more.

I skirt this reef. There are some large star fish I can see plastered against the rock. One is gold and a couple are purple. I watch a couple birds flying just in front of the shaded face of the cliff. They look tiny and barely visible and the cliff looks immense from right here.

I keep swimming and I can see this other larger rock just north of me. The shore and houses look much closer now. Oh wait…that rock is my familiar turnaround rock and these shaded cliffs are just past where I usually swim to. I know exactly where I am now. Well, I guess that is it. Time to head back.

Part of me wants to proceed all the way to the northern end of the beach as I wonder just how far out of the way I just swam. I certainly do not want to cut the swim short. However I feel fairly certain that if I swim directly back to the asphalt road, I will have completed a full swim and maybe more.

So I swim back from where I came. It’s fairly uneventful with the exception of a submerged lobster trap buoy I spot out the corner of my eye. I wonder how that happened. Maybe the trap landed precariously on some rock when it was placed and then it fell to the floor and pulled the buoy down below. It looks super odd. It’s like a ghost buoy about two or three feet under the surface.

I’m really close to my destination and somehow I have drifted quite a ways out. It feels like it takes forever to reach shore but I do. That was, as the kids say, epic. I wonder how long I have been out. For all I paid for this fancy action camera, can’t it tell me the time? The light feels like it is early afternoon.

I get back to the car and it is about 10 past noon which tells me I definitely got in a full swim. Later my picture time stamps tell me I was out about 90 minutes.