The offshore Santa Ana winds have calmed down but the air is still warm and it is another sunny day in Dana Point. From the beach parking lot at 11:15, I can clearly see Catalina Island.

The tide is high at the beach. It’s over 6 feet but on its way down. The surf is definitely smaller today but is breaking the same as it has for the past few days where the waves rise and crash right on the sand. Granted, my swims have also coincided with the day’s high tide which has been particularly high.

It’s an absolutely gorgeous day. It feels like Summer. Not a lot of people on this beach. However, I don’t know where those people would go with the current tide situation.

I wait just in front of the water as a couple waves break on shore and then I step in and quickly walk out to the edge of the white water. It’s not a long walk. The next wave comes and the water immediately rises up to my shoulders. Well I might as well start swimming now.

I head north toward Monarch. The water is clearer today. I can see the ocean floor or at least shadowy visuals of something that I know to be an ocean floor throughout the entire swim. The water is also colder. It’s still relatively comfortable and there are lots of warm patches but I’d say it is down a degree or two from yesterday. No cause for alarm. It’s not Winter yet.

I’ve got a bunch of proverbial junk in the trunk today if my head were a trunk. On days like today it feels just like a trunk as though I have somehow shed my prefrontal cortex, my entire limbic system and am operating with just my brain stem in tact where at least my automatic body functions are accounted for. This ocean is pretty much the best place to be when I am in this condition. I’m hoping that some glimmer of peace, hope or reason can be conducted over the water from the horizon right into my heart.

I yield all of my effort into my stroke. I exhale into the light that reflects into my eyes from the edge of water and sky, from the end of Monarch Point, from the wispy clouds that hover over the Ritz Carlton and the lawn at Salt Creek. I look below the water and branches of kelp extend like a limb that reaches for my own. My hand brushes against their leaves and I feel electricity in the contact. Every buoy is an anchor where I can rest my thoughts without concern that they will be swept out to open ocean.

I get as far as the golf course and then turn around for the return leg of the swim. This half feels warmer than the first. Everything that I see, hear and feel out here is good.

I make it all the way to the end and enjoy the beach breaking waves that greet me at the shore. I walk up the stairs and things oddly feel a bit cooler than they did on the way down but still very pleasant. When I reach the top, it looks like Catalina hasn’t moved an inch.