I’m leaving at 9:00. I took my time getting out this morning to let the tide recede from it’s 7:30 6.9 high. It’s a cool (54 degrees) and a lovely morning. As I drive down Palisades Drive to Coast Highway, I can only see soft hazy clouds in the sky all the way south past San Clemente and into Camp Pendleton, but based on the light, the sun is shining. Heading further north into the Lantern District, the sky grows more blue until that last bend past Blue Lantern on the straight away to Selva, blue becomes the dominant color.

Waiting for the light to turn green at the final left turn onto Selva, I check Surfline for the current tide: 5.8. Good enough. With the current sand situation on the shore, there should now be plenty of beach.

The water looks smooth from the parking lot. I grab my favorite spot and head down the stairs. I look out onto the horizon. There isn’t that far to look today. Especially out past the center of the beach, it almost looks like fog encroaching, but I don’t think that it is.

I reach the beach and there is indeed lots of sand to walk on here. Come 3:00 this afternoon, it will reach a -1.7 low tide and there will be lots and lots of sand. I point my camera to the north to get a shot of the north section of the beach and I spot a large flock of Pelicans flying low over the water super inshore so I wait until they are close and get a couple pics. Man I love Pelicans.

I’m not too obsessed with water temperature today. I just figure it’s gonna be the same as yesterday. There was not enough wind since then to drop the temperature and not enough sun and heat to raise it. I get in and wait for a set of small waves to break and then I’m fully immersed and on my way south.

I really don’t feel any aversion as I pass through the barrier between dry and wet, warm and cold. I swim for a few minutes and feel even better. I watch a larger, but not large, set of waves break to the south of me at the primary surf break. The water sprays off the curling crest and the sun illuminates the rising backside of the broken wave.

I keep moving and observe the scattered kelp trees beneath me. They dance kind of like those annoying air driven dancing stick figures you see in front of car dealerships. The main difference with the kelp is that it’s not annoying. Not in the least tiniest little bit.

I continue toward the Dana Point Headlands. I reflect over my last couple of days. I feel like I have crossed the Jordan. For years I sometimes find myself chanting a mantra, “I want to be free” without really knowing what freedom might look like. Last night as I lied in bed before I fell asleep, I found myself repeating “I am free” and it felt like the most natural thing I could possibly say.

Here in the ocean I am always free and always have been. Sometimes I wonder if ocean water is just a naturally and highly effective conducting agent of the grace of God. In front of me is the sun silhouetted outline of Dana Point, behind me are the distant cliffs above Salt Creek below a clear blue sky and over blue blue blue water forever and always.

The water gets all topsy turvy at the very end just under the bluff. I look at a pack of surfers and a small wave is actually breaking due north. I’m guessing this is from the high tide water rolling off the rocks. I look in all directions and give my respects to the elements here and then head back north.

I can feel the water get colder and colder and colder as I make my way to the north end of the beach. It’s good and I swim right into the cold. I feel it’s electric energy over and under my skin. In my mind’s eye I can see an infrared rendering of my entire body. The heat and cold float and drift into different places.

At the north end of the beach I look at the lobster buoy I just passed. It’s red and black. I hope that whatever lobsters are inside the trap below are not boiled alive in some restaurant or anywhere. Studies have recently uncovered that crabs and lobsters do indeed feel pain. I remember being told as a child that lobsters can’t feel the boiling water and I always suspected that might not be completely true. I mean how do we know really?

I turn around and head south again to end the swim. At some point I stop trying to hold my fingers close together to see how much dexterity I am losing. I can assure you that all dexterity has been lost. I claw my way back to shore. I stop for some reason and hear a loud and brief huff. I look westward and a dolphin’s fin rises just above the surface and then sinks back below. I linger for a bit but that’s the last I see of the dolphin.

I finish off the swim and up the stairs and back to the parking lot. I have to wonder just where is that dolphin is now. What matters most is that it is free.