Clouds on Fire
I leave at 6:30 and it is just past dawn. Skies look mostly clear and as I walk out my front door and look south towards San Clemente (probably just a few hundred feet away) the clouds are a deep deep beautiful red. It is chilly, but not terribly cold - about 53 degrees according to my omniscient phone.
I get to the parking lot at the beach and the ocean looks calm. There is an offshore breeze in the air and I have a clear view of Catalina Island.
I peel off my upper layers and head towards the stairs. I’m cold but not miserable. I have a little extra pep in my step hoping to get to the water quickly and not linger in this cold air.
The sun still has not risen over the cliff and the entire coastline sits in the shade. Here we are on the back half of December. Winter is less than a week away. What is that water going to feel like? Well It’s probably going to feel a lot like it did on my last swim on Tuesday. It might feel warmer than it feels out here. It will probably be amazing and I am most likely going to leave the water exhilarated.
Right now this moment that exhilarated state seems like it exists in some other dimension. However I know where the boundary sits and I am super close to penetrating it. However, I am definitely not there yet.
I see the beach and it is just beautiful. The sky to the south looks like it is on fire. The entire edge of the western horizon is glowing orange. The color starts with the dark blue of the ocean then sharply becomes red then orange and then the light blue of the sky. There are several birds - bird after bird after bird it seems - making their way north.
That dip in the sand that I have seen over the last week appears to have gone and the sand looks like it has made a full come back and covers most of the lower edge of the concrete ramp.
Not a lot of surf in the water that is for sure - just some gentle 2-3 footers breaking fairly close in. I begin to walk out and soon dive under one of these as it is breaking. The water temperature is not bad. It is not warm. I repeat - it is not warm, but I actually think it might be warmer in here that out there. The scenery is stunning in all directions.
As I swim further out, I continue to see the single or pair of birds here and there flying low to the water and across the coast. The water is not totally smooth. This offshore breeze makes it look like its thin top layer is vibrating as if something is blowing on it. Well, I guess that is exactly what is happening. It is also pretty darn clear but there is not a lot of light to expose the detail.
I swim south and I am filled with a feeling of gratitude that I am able to do this. I have been both sick and busy the last few days and unable to make it out but whatever lingering illness remains in me I sense it leaving me now. Literally being drawn out from the water. I don’t know if that is actually what is happening but that is how I feel right now.
I swim south and settle into the full body sensation I have right now of being in this water. I am right on the border of comfortable and cold - passing back and forth over its threshold. I watch the energy fill and expand inside of me. I try to remain right with the cold and relax my breath as I accept its presence all around me. I find a peace that is accessible from a posture of trust. If I can trust the cold to sustain me and not to overcome me and if I don’t reach for warmer surroundings, I can see the cold for what it really is and no more. It is simply the way of things here and it will pass in time but right now it is what I have and if I take a good look around me then what I have is good.
Just like last weekend, when I get to the northern end of the swim, I see a bunch of kayakers approaching quickly. I look south and they seem far but they are many, more than last week but they catch up to me in just a couple minutes.
They just amble right on by. Some to the port and others starboard. I stay alert to avoid any kind of unfortunate impact.
Even now as it approaches 8:00, the beach still seems fairly dim. Skies are still mostly clear but there is a build up of wispy clouds right in front of the sun blocking its intensity.
As I finish up and get close to shore, I just see white sand below me with a couple dark large round rocks that sit on the floor like islands. The tide is higher now and getting even higher and those small waves I saw on the way out seem drowned out now by all this water.
I emerge back onto land. I definitely found that exhilarating place I imagined before. My 6:00 self just could not envision what this would have looked like and yet had complete faith that it was here. I am glad to have found it.
I walk up the stairs again with extra pep. I am downright cold now and am looking forward to my towel. I shower off and wonder what happened to that 2 seconds of warm I usually feel when the water hits me. Oh well. It doesn’t seem to matter much. I’m already cold.
