I’m Out Here For The Antioxidants
I left the house at 11:30. It’s a little cool and breezy, but the skies are clear. So much for that 70+ degree weather that was forecasted last week. Now they say early in the week should be warm. I’ll believe it when I feel it.
It’s a lovely drive to the beach and I’m itching to get into the water. I just have not been able to fit in a swim for a few days. As I round the final bend on PCH and head towards Selva Rd., I see lots of large white puffy clouds to the north and northeast, but its all blue sky to the west and out to the horizon. When I get to the parking lot, the water looks pretty well textured but I don’t see any chop. It’s color is a deep rich blue and I can see the dark shadows of rock hidden below the surface.
I head down the stairs and watch the wind and swell on the water. I can see the current all the way from here moving north. This makes sense since the predominant swell today is SSW and the wind is also coming from the south. When I get to the beach it is low tide. It’s less than a foot and the entire beach is beautiful. There is lots and lots of golden sand and the shallow water is a thin and clear liquid scrim over the sandy floor that seems to extend forever. There is someone laying out right where I stow my pack so I pick a different lonely spot about 30 feet south.
As I head out into the water, it feels a little cooler than the last swim. The surf is very small and when I get to waist deep water, there is nothing here to help me get wet. It’s always helpful when a wave breaks in front of me and forces me to get wet to my shoulders. Today, I’m going to have to get wet on my own volition. Once I’m chest deep and it feels rediculous to walk any further, I lean forward and commit to the cold.
Yep, it is colder today. I would not say dramatically colder but I feel like the initial cold exposure takes my breath away and injects a sort of lethargy into my limbs. I’m used to this and it is totally normal. I know it will pass in a few minutes and sure enough it does. In fact, after five minutes of this I’m quite comfortable and it is all good.
The water is relatively clear today. It is not “clear” in the sense of how one might imagine clear water to be. It is certainly not “Hawaii clear,” but I can see something that looks like an ocean bottom throughout the entire swim. The current is undoubtedly coming from the south. It feels like it takes a while to get to the south end. My goggles are pretty cloudy the entire way down but I just don’t feel motivated to do anything about it. I can see well enough and the water is all up and down so there is not much to see anyways. It’s just good to be here. I feel the energy of the water rolling over me and through me. How do I even describe how it feels? It feels cold but warm. I can’t even begin to explain that. I believe that we live in a universe where opposing truths can both be concurrently true and this is a fine example.
As I get close to the southern end, I can see waves breaking toward the cliffs not far from where I am and that is my cue to stop. There are lots of exposed rocks around the bluff due to the low tide. As I look north, I see those big clouds kind of nestled against the hills of Laguna Niguel. They look like miniature explosions that froze in time and their billowing smoke lies suspended in the air and doesn’t move.
When I look west as I start to swim back up the beach, it is an entirely different scene of crystal clear blue sky and it’s light reflects on the surface of the water with an electric almost silver and almost gold shocking glow. I’m definitely being pushed by the current now. As I watch the rock shadows beneath me, I can see them glide by in quick succession. I’m relaxing into the cold. I’m almost expecting the cold to catch up with me at any moment but it never does. I know it’s there and from one perspective I can feel it but I remain protected from the anxiety it likes to inflict on me.
I can hardly believe how quickly I make it to the northern end of the beach. I just let my mind slip into auto pilot and I only need to look ahead toward Salt Creek a few times to check my trajectory. It gets closer and closer. I swear that on some swims it just doesn’t seem to hardly move. I pass by, over, and through kelp paddies that stretch from the bottom and splay out on the surface. Water continually rises up and over my face. How much ends up in my stomach I don’t know but it seems like quite a bit. I’m out here for the antioxidants!
When I reach the end and look around, the ocean is just a collection of uneven planes rocking and tottering and moving moving north. As I look south, I can see them heading right for me. It’s like a never ending column of marching liquid soldiers.
I turn around to finish up the swim. I’m against the flow now but this last little bit goes quickly enough. I feel like I swim through two different environments. The clouds hovering over the northern hills give the north end of the beach a much more grey and subdued vibe but as I approach my finish point, it feels more like a bright sunny Summer day. Both perspectives are great.
The swim comes to a close on a lovely beach view in all directions. I grab my pack and head up the stairs. Just like that last leg of the swim, the climb up the stairs starts off all sunny and ends a bit on the cloudy side. Sometimes it seems like all one has to do is blink here and everything looks different.
