Cockamamie Notion
Another early swim today. I’m out of the house at 6:30 in an attempt to be back home before my family is up for Christmas morning festivities. Oh it is cold. My phone reads 49 degrees. As I walk my dog in the dark I have to remind myself that this is not some kind of bone chilling cold. I recall cold in Washington where I had to wear a hat and gloves. Oh…and pants. I remember that long legged garb as I walk here in my swim trunks.
Yet another morning where I wonder what the freak I am thinking as I ponder stepping into the ocean water which I fully intend to be doing in about an hour. I feel like I have to just turn off my mind and push myself through this morning routine, into the car and onto the road to get to the beach. Left to my own whims, I don’t think I would ever make it. I know for a fact that if I can get myself into that water, this day, the entire day, is going to be much better. Especially today when I am feeling a bit on the dark side, I know a swim is going to make a big difference in how I view my world.
I do consider packing up a towel and layers so I can walk to and from the shore in a sweatshirt and have a little more comfort. I just can’t bring myself to do it. With just one more week in the year, certainly I can make it to 2024. Besides, there is going to be a 6.4 high tide during my swim and perhaps some swell and I don’t want to have to think about where to stash my stuff and keep it dry.
So I get out of the car and hustle down the stairs and try to tell myself that I am not that cold. Someone passes me on the stairs and asks, you heading in for a swim? I reply with an enthusiastic “yeah!” As the word comes out of my mouth I realize that my tone is a little out of alignment with how I actually feel. I’m just trying to come off as not totally crazy. Perhaps if I project an attitude of “Heck yeah man! It’s going to be awesome,” then maybe not only this stranger but I too will think this is a super upbeat and sane thing to do on a crisp Christmas morning.
I’m also kind of irrationally obsessed with the surf (that I have not even seen). The surf forecast is calling for possibly “modest” surf today. I’ve been watching these reports now for a few years and becoming fairly adept with the terminology. There are still some adjectives I am not totally clear on. When it comes to surf size there is “small,” (ok. I think I got that one) “fun,” (this is in the 3-5 foot range it seems) “pumping,” (this can be somewhat innuendoed but can mean big 6+). “Moderate” is a little fuzzy. I know what the word means and one might guess that it means “not small but not huge.” However I have had some days in the last year where “moderate” turns into something a little more. Maybe more than a little.
The fact is that these surf reports do not reflect an exact science and are written to describe all beaches in southern Orange County at a specific point in time. Also we have had a couple of swells in the last month where the 10 day forecast projections end up being totally underrated. It is also not uncommon, especially on the arrival of a fresh new swell, to wake up before the morning report and see 2-3 foot surf rated and then see that 2-3 get upgraded to 4-6 after the morning report.
Ok. So basically it comes down to the fact the surf reports are not 100% reliable, surf is strongly expected to get large by end of weak, and the wild card that I am a paranoid freak and very capable of reading a story into the reports that simply isn’t there. And this morning’s report has not yet been published, giving my imagination full license to fill in the gaps.
So as I propel myself down the stairs, I hear the surf in the distance and using that sound to embellish my story of impending Christmas carnage. Of course I see nothing. Now I did see some surf on the web cams around 5AM but it was also dark and the light (wherever that comes from) does weird things with the back spray making it look bigger than it really is (more fodder for my wild story).
I hit the sand and the tide is quite high. Yeah there is some surf but it is pretty small. There is a guy standing at the lifeguard hut looking out into the water. He has probably seen some monsters roll in and is just waiting for the next one. I’m sure we are just between sets right now. Then again maybe he is just some dude seeking solace from the ocean on a lonely Christmas morning wondering how it is that life has led him to where he is now. Perhaps next year he can turn things around. Perhaps he can find some glimmer of hope on this beautiful shore to help him move forward. I’m sticking with the monster wave lookout.
I get to my takeoff point and still have not seen anything to really bat an eye at. The light is dim and the water is not smooth but not particularly funky either. I get in and before long start swimming. I better swim fast because I’m sure that killer set will be here any moment. I swim out and out and out to keep well clear of any larger outside set. I feel my heart pounding and I feel short of breath. Uh oh…try to relax…if I meet up with a huge breaking wave I am going to want to have some solid lung capacity on hand.
The water actually feels nice. I feel patches of warmness. Can this be? I don’t see any reason for temps to rise and the buoys have all been pretty constant over the last week or two if not down a degree. I honestly think this is either me adapting or the fact that it is so cold out in the air that the water by contrast feels warmer (very likely). Even outside of the warmer patches, the cold that I feel is less extreme than the cold I felt coming down the stairs. This water is like a blanket. Maybe it is not the warmest blanket but it is better than nothing. I am very cognizant of the fact that I feel good and for that I am grateful. It does not fade as the swim progresses, it mercifully remains.
Still I am a paranoid mess. However I am beginning to see some serious cracks in my plot line. It just doesn’t “feel” big out here. On big days one can usually feel an extra umf in the energy of the water. I don’t feel that. I don’t see oncoming angles of water approaching me, I don’t hear crashing waves, I don’t see large whitewater bouncing off the breaks. Yet I can’t help but wonder why this lull between sets is so very very long. I make it to the south end of the beach where on big days I will see waves crashing on the rocks and cliffs. Nope. FLAT.
I turn around and head north. I don’t take many photos at all today. There just isn’t time. I need to get back to shore alive before the big waves strike. My head is just all out of sorts this morning. I’m full of self loathing. I am thinking of all the broken and fractured relationships in my life and wondering what nit wit lets this happen.
All I can do is focus on my breathing. This calms me and brings me to a place a little closer to where I actually am. My heart is racing? Just breathe. I can do that. I think I’m gonna die from a rouge wave? Breathe. I think I am some sort of mutant human incapable of good choices? Breathe. The preacher’s Christmas Eve sermon feels like a message that is a world away and bordering on just plain weird. Just breathe and breathe and breathe.
I get to the northern end of the beach and see a lifeguard truck with its overhead lights flashing. It must be signalling that there are treacherous conditions out. Funny, I don’t see anything particularly concerning. Well I’m almost done. With any luck I’ll make it home with lots of stories to tell of the Christmas surf massacre of 2023.
I head in and just keep swimming until I can see the sandy bottom just beneath me. I stand. Wait. I STAND. I am alive. Suddenly everything seems ridiculous. I mean take a look around. There is nothing treacherous about this unless you can’t swim. I realize that I just made all of this up. None of that drama was real.
And this fills me with hope because if that was not real and totally groundless than what else is not real? What other crazy thought about my self, past and future is just some cockamamie notion I nurture in no true basis in reality. Perhaps all will be well.
