I left the house at 7:00. It’s dipping below 60 again his morning to 58 probably thanks to the clear skies. I’ll gladly accept that trade.

The ocean looks fairly smooth when I drive into the parking lot. There is just a little bit of texture on the water.

I get my things in order shedding my shirt, sandals and glasses and grabbing my camera and goggles and then head to the stairs. It is just a bit brisk out. However considering the fact that I am only wearing swim trunks, I’m not that uncomfortable.

I’m wondering what the water will be like. It might be warmer in the ocean than it is here on land. Then again, by the looks of the buoy data, temps are coming down but its not Winter yet. In fact, today is my first Fall swim. So it is officially no longer Summer.

As I pass the lower bathrooms and round the corner on the asphalt road, the northern end of the beach comes into view. It is utterly serene in this morning light. Just a few beach walkers on the sand and two boats just offshore.

As I approach my launching spot, I spy a Pelican hovering over the shallows and the horizon is a radiant pink.

I walk into the water and after I am about stomach deep, a larger, but small, set of waves rolls in. I take a picture of the first just before it breaks in front of me and then I dive under to the floor and slide just beneath the turbulent white water above.

I make my way well past the line of surf and head south. I can see the sun just rising above the bluff making what is usually a scene of beachfront mansions morph into a dark shadow.

As I swim along, the water feels and looks more turbulent than it appeared from the parking lot above. My goggles are slightly fogged. It’s not at all rough nor is there a particularly strong current, but there is a constant bounce and roll and the surface of the water has a hint of effervescence as if I am swimming through some sort of carbonation.

I’d say the water temperature has definitely come down a degree since my last swim a couple days ago. It is still in the “refreshing” zone but I find my consciousness frequently surrounding my body to absorb the feeling of the water which seems to demand my full attention. As I offer my presence of mind to the water, it gives something back in return. How do I describe it? It’s an energy. Perhaps a simple acknowledgement that it is alive and notices my passage.

Eventually the light changes abruptly. I have passed into the shade of the Dana Point headlands as I approach the cove that cuddles the end of the beach. The cliffs are a very dark brown and the surface of the water beyond me is dotted with rocks that are probably much larger than dots. A couple birds fly by from the north and swoosh westward tracing the outline of the bluff.

I turn around and start to swim north. Soon the light changes yet again just as abruptly as before as I emerge from this shadow into the light covering the open ocean. I watch as the water beneath the surface comes to life. There are no views of the ocean floor today but the water glows just below its liquid glass ceiling.

I keep moving. I keep reaching out and opening my pores to the energy of the water. The cool water wants to transform my mind. There is some form of photosynthetic chemical reaction that takes place between my energy and the ocean’s. It lifts my thoughts and helps me to see the world around me anew - as if for the first time.

Soon I am nearing the northern end of the beach. I have drifted pretty far out but I see the sun glowing on the sand just in front of the bathrooms and over the lifeguard tower while the cliff behind is half dark and half light.

I turn around for the last time to begin the final leg of the swim. I swim almost directly toward shore for a while before pointing myself due south.

After I am about at the fourth house on the bluff, I pause to take in the view. I turn toward the horizon and am greeted by the remaining red buoy left by the jr. guards. A reminder that not long ago, it was Summer - less than 8 hours ago to be exact. Then I see something flopping around on the water. I can’t really see it long enough to tell what it is. I am almost sure it is a fish.

Once I am aligned with my “finish line,” I roll onto my back and just kick my way to the super shallow water. This lasts a couple minutes and I enjoy watching the waves break off the reef further to my south. When I am about knee deep, I right myself and walk back to the ramp.

Heading back up the stairs, someone says to me, “Good visibility?” I reply, “nope!” Part of me wants to say, “Yeah it was great. I could see all the way to the horizon!”