Left the house at 12:45. This tropical SSE swell from Emilia and Fabio do not seem to be generating too much activity at the Strand. Certainly nothing worth canceling a swim on a beautiful and warm Summer Friday. We have perfectly clear skies. There is a bit of westerly wind but not every day can be just like yesterday. I can easily put up with a little turbulence on a day like today.

As I drive by Doheny, the water is a lovely turquoise blue. There is indeed some texture on the water but it still looks inviting. When I get to the Strand, conditions look similar. I get out of the car and can feel that onshore breeze but that doesn’t stop the warmth of the sun from making sweet contact with my back.

I walk down the stairs and don’t really notice any significant lines of swell rolling in from the distance. The lifeguard station still reports 68 degrees in the water and I just wonder how much credit I can take for that after yesterday’s interaction with the lifeguard on duty.

There is a good showing of people here at the beach and for good reason. The water still feels warm on my feet - no need to downgrade that temperature reading.

Maybe I see a couple waves that are larger than what I have seen in the past 10 days but that’s not saying too much given the near flat conditions we have had.

I head out into the water and it doesn’t take long to figure out that things have gotten even warmer than yesterday. Time to rub out that 68 and write in 70 or 71, but I’m just going to have to let the lifeguard staff make their own call - enough hand holding.

For all the effort it takes to make headway and breathe a full breath of air in these near choppy surface conditions, it is made more than worth it with the incredible feel of the water. It’s like I’m being waterboarded with the elixir of eternal life. This whole swim is utterly delightful. Sure I’m tossed around like a rag doll, but this water can throw me against a wall for all I care. It is incapable of doing any harm.

It is such a beautiful day and I pause here and there to stare at the points on either side of me and the light shines beautiful on all of them. The light. It is penetrating every pore in my body and infusing me with life.

The water goes every which way. Over my head, into my mouth. There seems to be no horizon line but a multitude of curves surround me in every direction. The current is moving south today and when I turn around at the south end of the beach to head north, things are slow going but that’s ok. I can linger here.

A gull flies around me and seems to be stalking me as it circles me several times. For some reason, and this is often the case, the middle part of the beach between the middle stairs and the asphalt road, seems to put up the biggest fight in keeping me from making any progress. I try to veer back towards shore because it feels like the current is usually more calm closer to the beach and I have no idea if that is actually correct.

By the time I near the north end of the beach, my body is truly pooped. I pause a few times just to catch my breath. The return trip back south to my point of origin moves noticeably faster. I watch the sand, rocks, and kelp beneath me move backwards with much greater speed than they did in the other direction.

I arrive back near shore just as a set of waves comes in. When the largest one in the set approaches, I hear a group of teenagers behind me yell “Oh my God!” as if their lives are in mortal danger. Fortunately I think we are all going to live to see another day.