I left the house a little before 9:15. It’s darkly overcast and even drizzlier than it was yesterday. Today the ground is wet as I exit the car for the stairs. The air feels especially cool as the moisture hits my skin.

Today I’m feeling like I just need to make it through this swim and probably the next several swims ahead. I could totally see this coming yesterday. That shark encounter shook me up a bit, but I am determined not to let it ruin this experience or worse, put an end to them.

I’m about 60-70 percent sure that was a white shark I saw yesterday. I just can’t think what else it could have been. Even if it wasn’t, lets be honest - if a surfer was confronted on Monday at T-Street just 8 miles away by an animal that has been known to swim across an entire ocean, those sharks are at Strands too. I’m filled with conflicting emotions. On the one hand the memory of yesterday’s sighting terrifies me and on the other hand, it was a very special and intimate moment with nature. On the one hand I never ever want to see one again and on the other I’d like to see one again today please.

I had figured this all along but I’m pretty sure now that these “encounters” probably happen more often than I think. I’ve seen drone footage on YouTube of swimmers and surfers being followed and stalked by sharks while the swimmer/surfer is completely unaware that this is happening.

I’m of a mindset that I just can’t let this stop me from swimming. This activity gives so very much joy and connection to nature and God (I’m not sure if those are different). I can’t put a halt to every activity that threatens my safety. The moment we walk out our front door our chances of intersecting with calamity increases and the moment one walks into the ocean it increases even more. Believe me, in the last 24 hours I have read the statistics and reviewed every shark attack recorded in Orange County over the last 50 or more years. The odds of me being attacked are so so low and being killed much much lower. Now if attacks start to spike in SoCal, sure, I might need to make some changes.

Still, I have now passed this threshold where I can no longer sweep the presence of the sharks under the rug. The possibility of contact is now very real to me and I know it’s gonna take a little bit to feel comfortable again and to rid my mind of the obsession that a shark is just up ahead of every stroke.

Ok…so where was I? Oh yeah I’m walking down the stairs and thinking about you know what.

Everything looks dark here today. The marine layer of clouds overhead are thick, the air all about is generally misty and the water looks particularly brownish. Boy, yesterday I thought things were clearing up but today proves this to be very wrong.

As I approach the shore and look out towards Salt Creek, a ray of joyful light shines. It’s the weekend of “Cosmic Creek” - an annual surf contest at Salt Creek. I knew it was some time soon after Memorial day. I can see the inflatable planets sitting on the water out in front of the Ritz Carlton. These are just so much fun to swim around. I’m expecting the water to be the same temperature as yesterday so it should be perfect for a north bound swim.

I feel the water and it feels about the same as yesterday - a good thing. I soon walk out and get beyond the line of surf to find a larger set now breaking far outside. There is a southwest swell filling in today. It’s not huge but bringing bigger surf than we have seen in the last week. I dive down and skirt below the turbulence and then do the same for the next wave. Now I am free and swimming north.

Oh this temperature is nice. I think it’s even a little bit warmer than yesterday, but man oh man the red tide is thick today. I can’t see a thing. I wonder how many sharks are hiding in this darkness. Lord knows they know where I am. A shark can smell prey from a quarter mile away. I do not like to think of myself as “prey.”

I eventually reach out and my hand touches a kelp leaf and if I were standing I would have jumped. Ok, I do seem just a bit high strung out here today. Just keep swimming. This fear is like a low hum resonating just above the surface of the water. I breath into it. It’s all I can do with it. I can’t push or wish it away. I have to coexist with it and let it run its course. I swim around it and through it and learn it’s edges. I look for the smooth parts and I map every crack.

Oh look. There is Mars. No really. Mars is literally right in front of me. It is a 5 foot sphere floating on the water here. There are two other planets here too. One is Jupiter and I don’t know what the other is. It looks like they lost a couple since last year. I know Earth used to be included and another one too. The surf lineup is pretty close and I wonder maybe too close.

I keep swimming as I listen to the loquacious announcer who I can hear quite clearly. He is telling dolphin stories and I wonder if that is because he saw one.

I point myself towards the Monarch Bay Beach Club. I swim past the snack shop and the house with the large blue tinted windows. I swim past the outer public restrooms and past the sand traps on the putting green. About two thirds of the way between the golf course and the beach club, I turn around. It is still dark and misty out. Hard to say if we will ever see the sun today.

I turn around and head back. On the way back to the main surf break where the planets are I watch as a few large sets seem to be breaking pretty far out. They are farther out than where I am now an I have to wonder if those planets are safe. We could have a planetary disaster on our hands right here in our own solar system.

I aim myself a bit more westward so I remain clear of the breaking waves. As I get close I can hear the announcer again and he is soliciting for “waterman” volunteers to paddle out to the planets and move them farther out. I see a couple guys on surfboards fussing with these inflatables as I pass by.

I’m now in Strands territory having crossed the point. Soon I’m right in front of my finish location and I start swimming to shore. I’m right in between sets and make it to a standing position without the assistance of any waves. Once I’m on dry sand, I gladly proclaim to myself that I survived!