I Want To Go To There

I’m out of the house about 10 minutes after 1:00. It’s about 76 degrees outside and there is a beautiful crystal clear blue sky. A bit of an onshore breeze is developing but it looks fine.

I’m excited today because I just got my higher end camera shipped to me. The manufacturer, Insta360, replaced the water damaged one at no cost. Even though these are supposed to be water proof up to six feet deep (which I never exceed) I have ordered a waterproof housing fitted just for this camera which I’m certain will prevent this kind of damage from happening again.

My car feels super warm and the cooler breeze at the beach feels nice. I can see a little chop on the ocean surface from the parking lot and the sun light sparkles and lights up the entire liquid plane all the way out to the horizon like an electric lake.

As I walk down the stairs, I can see the varying shades of blue and dark shadows from the floor paint a pattern of black and blue that flutters with the breeze and rolls with the small swells. It all looks very much alive.

I reach the sand and it’s warm and there are plenty of people enjoying the beach but it’s not at all a crowd. I start walking into the water and just as it has been on the last several swims, the shallows are like liquid glass and there is nothing distorting the view of the sandy bottom. It’s like one of those pictures of a tropical beach that makes you say, “I want to go to there” in a soft hypnogogic voice that comes from a presence deep down that is your unfiltered and purest self.

I dive into an oncoming wave and it’s all done. I’m washed anew and heading south. Visibility is clear a good ways out and I can see good detail of the rocks and some fish below. The water temperature is superb.

I make my way to the end of the beach in pretty good time. I frolic here in the rock and kelp for several minutes. I swim to a rock about 50 feet past the “big rock“ that I know is a hot spot for fish. Today does not disappoint. There are tons of Corbina and several bright orange Garibaldi. The kelp sways almost violently with the swell. There is only two to three feet between the top of the underwater rock and the water’s surface. The surf is so small today that’s not a problem and is in fact very cool looking.

Eventually I start swimming north. I’m prepared for the possibility of this leg taking a while. I try to keep swimming for as long as I can and see how long I can resist the urge to look up and see where I am. I do fairly well but I want to get a look at the southern cliffs before they get too small. I’m just a couple houses short of the middle stairs. Not too bad, but it still feels early in this stretch.

After several minutes. I mean not just 5 or 10 but what feels like a good long while, I look up again. I have this “feeling” that I might be in front of Niguel Shores not far from where I usually start the swim. I look up and I’m still not at the boardwalk yet. Oh come on! Well I am undoubtedly making headway but I was hoping for a little (or a lot) more progress.

Again I put my head down and don’t stop to look for a good while. I’ve gone quite a ways longer but I can tell from my occasional spot checks of the point below the Ritz that I’m not close. However, I look to see where I am and I am at Niguel Shores now almost directly in front of my starting point. I’m getting there.

I’m out far enough that I can’t really see the bottom. I see lighter and darker shades of the blue-green water below me but I honestly can’t tell if they are from any kind of structure on the floor, or are just the play of light or figments of my dreamy imagination. I’m hoping for one of the later two options because the pattern of the shades remains nearly stationary.

I’m mesmerized by the sparkle of light on the water between me and the horizon. The sun catches every single wake with an energetic charge that ignites like a spark and quickly engulfs its neighbors. I stop to take in this expanse that is lighting up in front of me. The water here is clearly audible. I can hear bits of chop breaking all around giving me the sense that I am not alone.

Then I see Big Bertha, the lone red buoy that stands watch over the northern end of the Strand. Or is is sitting Shiva - mourning the departure of Summer. Maybe both. It feels intrusive to ask. I resume swimming and make Big Bertha my goal. If I can just make it to her, the end is just another stone’s throw away - assuming a very low gravity environment.

I swim for a couple minutes and I can see I’m gaining on her. A couple more minutes and she is behind me. I’m feeling very glad that I actually ate before my swim today, which I often don’t even on a late swim. This would all be much more difficult if I hadn’t and I might have some disrespectful things to say to Bertha - lost in my hanger.

I eventually reach the northern end of the beach and the return leg to the finish goes very quickly. It gets super clear again close to shore and I see lots of these three inch long transparent fish hanging out right near the legs of the shore frolicking humans.

I get to the shower up top and there is a woman using it and she has soap and shampoo and all. It feels kind of awkward showering off right next to her, a total stranger, but if feels even more awkward if I just stand and wait. So after a couple minutes of awkward silence I make a comment about the warm water temperature and she is super pleasant. If there is one thing I have learned from swimming here: when in doubt, just talk about the water temperature.

I get to my car and wonder how long I’d been gone. It is well after 3:00. Yikes. I had been in the water for about an hour and forty-five minutes. Definitely time to do some more eating.