Hmming and Hawing
Late start today - leaving the house at 1:45. I’m super torn as to whether to swim or to run. By now winds are picking up and I can see chop on the water through the webcam. I have this idea in my head about how terrible it will be - cold and turbulent. Also it’s late and I would really like to have my workout behind me. Then on the other hand, the surf is probably the lowest that it will be all week with a swell just starting to show and due to peak on Wednesday. The buoy data looks like they may have gained the degree of warmth they lost over the weekend. Somehow I sense that if I swim, in the end, I’ll be glad with the outcome.
I’m hmming and hawing over this and wondering how much time I’d save if I’d just get my trunks on and go already. That’s just what I do with a bit of an attitude of, “let’s just get this over with.” There is also another part of me that is a bit exasperated and perplexed over a certain personal issue and I’m ready for some liquid turbulence. I imagine hashing out my frustration in the water and it already feels cathartic.
As I pass Doheny and also when I arrive at the Strand parking lot, the water looks like it has calmed down just a bit. I don’t see the chop, just a lot of wobbly, ripply water. All the clouds that were here in the morning look to have vanished with just a few stragglers on the inland side. It’s about 60 degrees out. The direct sun feels good but it is overshadowed by the breeze every few seconds.
As I walk down the stairs I’m not even thinking about cold water or any other kind of dread. I’m just in a mood to get this done. About half way down the stairs, I’m wondering why I bothered with my pack and I’m concerned the work tractors will be right in front of my spot today. As I round the bend and get a view of the beach, I can see that is exactly where they are. I walk a few houses further to drop my pack in a spot that seems safe from the work being done here. I consider entering the water at this spot too. I’m pretty sure it would be fine but I know there are a couple large submerged rocks here and it is fairly low tide so I just walk back down to my usual spot. The water really doesn’t feel too bad. I think we may have risen a notch above Friday. Of course this sun on the water doesn’t hurt.
The sandy floor rises and falls steeply as I walk out to the breaking surf. I finally dive underneath the oncoming whitewater and then push myself off from the floor to the surface. I swim out further as a larger set comes in and I poke through the face of the first wave. I watch the waves break just a little further down the beach - the same waves I’m diving through now that just have not yet broken here yet.
I keep swimming until I feel I am safely past anything that might break here and then I head south. The entire swim is super murky, cold but not at all terrible, extremely turbulent and pretty fantastic. It is definitely warmer than I expected it to be. Surfline adjusted its temperature reading this afternoon to 58 degrees (from 56). Maybe? If so, this is a 58 degrees I can certainly live with. I’m really not sure if I am swimming with or against the current. I feel the wakes wash over me but the wind is supposed to be coming from the southwest right now. Wherever it is coming from, it is undoubtedly here. The movement of the water is probably the most dominant feature of this swim.
It definitely feels good to be here. All of my visions of demise at sea from before leaving home are being debunked with every stroke. This was the right thing to do. The light penetrates me from all sides. It becomes trapped by the water and the curtains of liquid that wash over my face are infused with light. The mid-afternoon sun shimmers over the ocean and bounces off these wakes in every direction. Part of me feels like I could swim out here forever. With every breath, something comes loose inside of myself and I sense I can stand to lose more. If I swim long enough, perhaps I can dissipate into a cloud of dust and scatter myself over the pacific.
Everything feels so alive out here. There is constant moving and bouncing and every once in a while a sensation of being thrown into an oncoming wake. The cliff behind the lifeguard tower is wandering about - drifting west then east and bobbing up and down. It seems like I come across blue water only a couple times. It’s mostly a brownish murky color. We really got hardly any rain this weekend, could it be from something else?
I make the entire south to north passage pretty fast again which makes me think the current is pushing from the south even though it feels like it is coming from the north. Who knows. It’s not important. I look around me near that lifeguard tower and keep starting to head back south but I’m distracted by a pair of birds that are diving and rising into and out of the water and getting closer to me. They are interesting to watch and I can’t place the species. I’ve seen them around but just don’t know what they are called. Eventually it seems they are done with this dance for now and I proceed to finish the swim.
As I look inshore I think I see the tractors in front of where I set down my pack and wonder if it is being buried under rock. I end up passing my destination and needing to head north again. Soon I am in the waves and the shallows and a larger one comes right down on me and I relax my body and let myself flounder in the explosion. I get back to my pack and it is fully in tact. Regardless of the breeze, the sun feels pretty great all the way up to the top.
