I left the house at 11:20 with sunny skies. SUNNY SKIES! That’s right! There was a decent breeze going so the ocean might be a bit on the jumbled side but who cares? I’ll take sunny and windy over overcast and calm. At least I will now after weeks of overcast. Or has it been years? I can’t remember.

On the drive up the coast I can see what is left of the morning’s clouds far off on the horizon. I’m hoping that it is a receding cloud ban and not an approaching fog bank. It is super thick and almost hard to tell the difference but I’m feeling pretty confident it’s not incoming fog.

It’s so great as I veer into the parking lot. Other than that distant layer of cloud, I can only see blue above. I just want to sit here in this warm car for a moment and breathe it in and let it pass through every part of me.

I gather my things and head for the stairs. The breeze is cool but I can feel the warmth of the sun on the back of my shoulders and it is nothing but good. The ocean surface looks pretty active but I don’t think I see any chop.

I get to the beach and the tide is recovering from a recent low. I can see a crowd of jr. lifeguards on the north end of the shore. The lifeguard hut is still closed.

I head out into the water. The water looked really blue from the stairs but there was some brown residue in the foam washing into the shore so I’m not sure what the visibility is going to be like. Yesterday I ran along the coast from Capo to North beach and you could see a well defined strip of reddish-brown not far off shore.

I dive beneath a breaking wave of a new set of waves and then swim over the crests of the rest. The water looks good. I can see the ocean floor and when I get further out everything is blue blue blue. Super nice. The temp feels the same as my last swim Wednesday - I’m calling 65. Last night’s water temp forecast said the water might feel cooler today thanks to yesterday’s onshores but it all feels great to me.

As I swim south and past the primary surf break here. I can feel the swell moving under me. It almost feels as if it is just about to break here and I can see the edge of the face start to feather but it doesn’t actually break until it is well east of me.

It’s one of those days where there is definitely a current but I can’t get a good grasp on where it is coming from and going to. There are a combo of swells in the water today from the south, southwest and northwest.

I make it to the south end of the beach and am just loving the light. I don’t want to be anywhere else. Then I look out further towards the horizon and see another human not too far from me. Looks like a diver. They have a mask and snorkel and a wetsuit hood. They must be sweltering. I internally debate over saying hi but they look like they are on the edge of hearing distance and maybe further given the hood.

I turn around and head north. I get to the first jr. guard buoy. It looks pretty close but I don’t bother swimming to it today - been there done that. I just let myself relax and try to forget about all that I am as I pull myself forward stroke by stroke. Anxiety, worry, fear pass like clouds over my mind. I can feel like there is so much ambiguity in life. How should I approach these concerns? What should I do. I see monsters lurking at every turn. This swim help me to find direction. Sometimes all I can do is take one stroke after the other, try to keep myself pointed toward that lifeguard tower and then, at least if this swim is like every single other swim I have taken here, I will eventually find myself on the shore.

Suddenly I sense my hand either hitting or coming super close to something that looks kind of like a plastic bag. I have a goo look and it is a pretty good sized Jelly fish. Oh wow. It is super cool and bizarre. I have been wondering when I will eventually see one. As a kid I remember seeing them on or close to shore several times here but I have never seen them on a swim. It’s about the size of a large beach ball. From one angle it looks like an alien that wears its brains on the outside of its head. I watch it for a bit and stay close but try hard to keep clear of it. It looks like it is alone and I don’t see any others on the rest of the swim.

I keep heading north and it fels like the further I get the faster I am going. I feel like I am a good ways out and am keeping my eye out for the North Star buoy but don’t see it yet. Given today’s bumpy surface, I realize it may be tough to spot.

There is lots of stalks of kelp out here. I come up to a large patch of floating vines and leaves. I decide that rather than try to push myself over or swim around, I’ll dive and swim under it. I do this and as I look above me to the floating seaweed that sits between me and the sun light, it looks beautiful. Then I find my body rising to the surface before clearing this patch and my head pops up with large kelp leaves covering me. I dive down to finish the crossing.

Ahh there is the North Star buoy. It’s right in between too far and just far enough. I want to swim out to it but I have to get back to work and can’t be spending the day frolicking out here even if that seems delightful - and it does - so I continue on my current trajectory.

I spot another oddity below me. I’m pretty sure it is another Jelly but this one is comparatively tiny. It’s about the size of a light bulb and just floating about two feet below the surface. It is completely translucent and looks like there is some sort of solid mass inside of it. I just love Jelly fish. They don’t look like they belong here. Everything about them is completely strange and foreign but also cool and beautiful.

It’s time to turn around and finish this up. I just can’t believe how nice it is out here. It feels like the seasons have suddenly turned. Of course I know that come early tomorrow morning the overcast will be back and it will be a different scene here. Not bad, but very different. Then again who knows? Sunny June mornings have happened here before.

I gradually inch my way closer to shore as I head back south toward my finishing spot. The water gets more sandy and cloudy and cold but not unpleasantly so. Lots of seaweed here too but instead of the stalks of live kelp its bits and pieces of stray clippings.

Well here I am and I head on in. I manage to evade any significant waves and before I know it I’m walking. The lifeguard hut is occupied and the water temperature reads 64. Ok that is at least in the ball park. I walk up the stairs and the sun on my skin feels inappropriately delightful. I cross paths with others walking up and down the stairs. Am I the only one feeling this? I honestly don’t understand how some are actually able to hold a conversation in this sun and light and air and water.