Crack in the Sky
It’s almost 9:30 when I open my front door and although it is overcast skies, there is a slight crack in the sky to the southeast. Is that blue that I see? I’m not sure but it is a brightness that I know to be the precursor to the highly anticipated marine layer burn off. It is coming and I implore any power that might have authority over these kinds of things that it may come quickly.
I curve to the left on Dana Strand Road just past the intersection of Selva and PCH and there it is again - that brightness. Sure the clouds dominate the sky but in their midst, this subtle, or perhaps not so subtle, flash of luminescence hints of a different sky soon to come.
On the way to my parking space the water looks pretty well textured by the south wind that has been gently blowing here the last few mornings and is supposed to stick around through the work week. It’s quite alright because it’s warming up the water. We are supposedly up about a degree since my last swim on Saturday and the forecast says we could get to the upper 60’s by the end of the week.
I get out of my car and walk down the stairs. I feel simultaneously cool and also slightly warm from that brightness shining on my back. It’s all good here. Looks like the lifeguard hours have been extended. They are already opening up the lifeguard hut. No water temperature posted yet but I think I have a pretty good idea what it will be like.
Waves are fairly small rolling in. A slightly larger set comes in just as I am starting out in the water and I stand by waiting for it to pass. I mean I could just run ahead and dive beneath them with out any problem but my body just doesn’t feel ready for that kind of union with the water just yet. I’m still clinging to the comforts of dry land. I imagine that I am this separate thing from the water and I don’t want to let go of my distinctness. Also, it just looks cold.
The set passes and I move forward and then soon dive under a smaller breaking wave. Well that does it. I’m wet now and wow, I am not cold. This is what we look forward to all Winter and Spring for. It has finally arrived.
I head south and the water is pretty rambunctious. It is hard to say if it is moving me towards or away from my southern destination but it is definitely moving me. It feels great. I remember back to when I swam regularly in a pool and while I enjoyed that, this experience does not even compare. It is so much more dynamic and fresh and alive.
As I come up for air between strokes and look east and slightly south, I see significant blue sky as if all of the sudden, the clouds just went away. There are still some clouds on the periphery but it is officially sunny right now. And the water is wonderfully blue - no red tide yuck about. Visibility is still not great. There is a fair amount of sand and cloudiness in the water but it is lovely.
I make it to the end of the beach and watch the waves roll past me and crash into the cliff. I’m rising and falling up up over the waves and then I fall down the back and into a trough that sits between that passing wave and the next one coming. As I watch the hills to the north, they disappear and reappear from behind the precisely rhythmic wakes. It’s an entirely different day here that it was just 15 minutes ago.
I turn around and head north. I soon pass the southern OCJG buoy. I’m close. I think I subconsciously plot a course for the North Star buoy that is about .75 miles ahead. It becomes clear where the current is coming from. There is no doubt that I am being pushed forward. There are random clumps and strands of seaweed floating on the water. The further north I get the more stalks of kelp I see rising from the bottom.
As I pass the lifeguard hut again, there are plenty of kelp paddies floating on the surface from branches that look as though they descend to infinity. The water begins to grow more agitated. Eventually I see the North Star. It is quite close. I continue swimming northward until I am unquestionably past the bathrooms. The further out I am the harder it is to know but I’m so far offshore that even if I’m slightly south of the restrooms, I’m not cheating on overall distance.
I turn around and head back south and slightly west to intersect with the buoy. I wonder if they purposefully planted this buoy right in the middle of this forest. It is particularly thick out here. I round the buoy and then head west in the direction of the lifeguard hut. I stare toward the homes on the ridge bordering Three Arch Bay. The further in shore I get, the cloudier the water becomes.
Before I know it, I am right in front of my finishing spot. I know there are waves breaking here today but I don’t seem to come into contact with any of them on my final swim to shore. I stand up and head for the asphalt.
As I walk past the lifeguard hut, the water temperature reads 64. I’m thinking it was more like 65 or 66. These lifeguards maybe need to get in the water.
