I leave just a little after 7:00 and although it is overcast, the light is much brighter today than yesterday and I can see traces of blue in the clouds and there are small breaches of clear sky poking through here and there. I’m hoping, but not necessarily expecting, that this will all burn off soon.

There are quite a lot of surfers out at Doheny. Surf is supposed to be up a bit more today. There are still low clouds covering the tops of Laguna Niguel but it’s not as thick and low as yesterday. By the time I am in the Strand parking lot, it feels almost sunny even if I can’t actually see the sun. These clouds just don’t seem to be dimming much of the light.

As I walk down the stairs I can see the swell rolling in to the beach. The lines are more pronounced today and the low rumble of breaking waves is louder. I’m embarrassed to admit that this all makes me a little jittery. I’m sure everything will be fine and I try to focus on taking long slow breaths.

A couple other swimmers are making their way up the asphalt road as I am heading down. If these guys can do it then so can I.

The road has a thin layer of sand blanketing the rocky asphalt. I have come to appreciate this sand. Every few days, the grounds crew blows away the sand with their leaf blowers and I wish they would let the sand stay. It certainly makes the road much more easy on the feet. As I reach the sand, I watch a good sized set of waves heading southwest into Salt Creek. The peaks spray water off of their back sides as the faces pound the surface and lay down a whitewater carpet all the way to shore.

A surfer starts to paddle out near the base of the road. By the time I am at my take off spot, the surfer is positioned in the surf lineup. I start to walk out and a new set starts to come in. I stand in the knee deep water as the fairly large shore break crashes down not too far ahead. After a few of these waves I start walking out further and then a couple more roll in. Once those have run their course, I start to swim and make it out past the white water without incident.

Despite the fact that these waves rattle my nerves, this water has the opposite effect and attempts to cancel out the agitation with a more than benign treatment of warm and lovely blue water. It is so very pleasant. It tries to lull me into a belief that no wave could possibly bring any harm in water this pleasant.

I head south and swim a bit further out than I have the last few swims. Throughout this entire swim, I stress over the pounding waves that run parallel to be in shore and I thrive in the lovely and tranquil warm water.

I am constantly telling myself that these waves are only about head high. I have swam in these kind of conditions countless times. But my mind likes to create these rouge sneaker waves. Anomalies that want to do nothing less than mame my body into some kind of unrecognizable mass of bloody flesh. I know how ridiculous this is and have no doubt that I will end this swim safely but just cant shake these visions. I remind myself throughout the swim that this is not the North Shore of Hawaii. I recall so many other things that have frazzled me over the years and turned out to be next to nothing. This somehow gives me some solace to know that I am probably engaging in these same patterns through so many other struggles in my life where I envision utter disaster through circumstances that I am fully equipped and capable to conquer. As I swim out here and fear the worst, I am offered a peace that things on shore may not be nearly as bad as they seem. Or maybe they are bad, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t be able to face them and make it through to the next challenge.

I reach the south end of the beach and it is relatively calm due in part to how far out I am. On the way back north, I am only about 50 feet away from the OCJG buoy. I also notice that the sky is clearing just to the east of the bluff and there is also plenty of blue sky to the north. Nice.

As I continue to swim north, the clouds keep peeling away to expose the bright blue sky above. Half way up the beach, I am at the north eastern edge of the cloud front. When I lift my head above water to breath, it looks super close and appears like a mountainous fog bank. I stop to examine it. Could it be fog? Looking at it, it does not seem to be fog. Then I continue onward and in less than a minute I find myself asking, “am I sure it’s not fog?” I really don’t want to get stuck in fog with this surf. Oh my god am I really doing this? I’m fixated on giant waves and impenetrable fog when in fact, in the reality that I actually inhabit, this is turning out to be an absolutely lovely morning and luxurious swim? If there is any fog at all here, it is my thoughts blowing over this beach and they just don’t want to clear.

I get close to the northern edge of the swim and see the North Star buoy to my left. It really is not far at all. I swim just a little further to the point where I feel like I am clearly lined up with the bathrooms and then I turn and head back in the direction of the buoy. I’m so close, why not go just this little bit out of my way? It is truly beautiful out here and the sun is shining in all directions. At least that is what I recall.

Having reached the buoy, my next destination is the shore. What I love about swimming this far out is that the return journey is more like a long swim toward shore than a swim along the beach where I tick off house after house after house. So inland I swim staring at the north end of Monarch Bay all along the way.

Soon I am close and I’m mentally preparing myself for the surf. I get to the edge of the breaking zone and see a set of waves coming. I just wade here and wait them out. Next I swim the rest of the way in and voila! I’m still alive. The tide seems much higher than when I started and the sky is certainly bluer. The fog of my doomsday thoughts suddenly clears and I envision a good day ahead.