I left the house at about 10:45 this morning. It has been overcast all morning and I have been hoping to see some sun poke through but I’m starting to see the wind disturbance increase on the water through the webcam and it’s only going to get worse through the morning and afternoon. I figure I might as well get going now.

As I walk out my front door, I can sense a sort of brightness coming from the south. I don’t see any direct sunlight but this hue caries hope. Once my car is on the road and heading north up Camino El Molino, I can see some very faint patches of blue in the sky. Then as I wind down toward PCH, things look as if they are starting to open up and I can see predominately hazy blue sky above downtown Dana Point. By the time I get to the beach parking lot, it’s basically what I would call a sunny day. Well, isn’t this nice?

I head out of the car and feel the sun shining on my neck and shoulders all the way down the stairs. The ocean surface is pretty textured and I see faint chop here and there but it doesn’t look too incredibly bumpy. It’s mid-tide and the tractor which has become a regular weekday fixture here looks like it’s about half way up the beach between the ramp and northern bathrooms.

It’s really shaping up to be quite a nice day. As I step onto the sand it feels decadently fluffy. Can sand be fluffy? This sand is. I walk to the water and it feels pleasant. It’s interesting how I have developed this sense for how the feeling of the water on my feet can predict the temperature of the water upon full immersion. Even though it feels undoubtedly cool, I’m pretty sure what I am feeling right now is a good omen for things to come.

I walk out into the water and there is someone fishing in the shallows about forty feet north of me. The surf is nothing special. Not tiny but certainly not big. A wave breaks in front of me and I dive beneath it and start to swim out to my usual swim lane. By the time I am well past the surf I pause and take note that this water is downright pleasant. I knew it would be warmer than Monday by a couple degrees. It is still technically “low” 60’s - maybe 62 judging by the buoys. Surfline says 58 but that’s a lie. They just haven’t updated the numbers since Tuesday. I have to say, if this is 62, I must be adjusting pretty well because it feels damn good. If I didn’t know any better I’d say it is maybe 65, but what am I? A thermometer? Hopefully my mercury level isn’t that high.

I head south and just let myself settle into the lusciousness of this swim. Throughout the entire swim I try to throw in some intervals of breathing on my alternate side. I really have to force myself to do this. It is not pleasant. I can feel my body work what seems to be at least twice as hard when I am doing this. Every movement that would usually go unnoticed is brought into my full conscious awareness. The rising of my arms, lifting my face over the water, the specific tilt of my neck, the stretch along the entire side of my body - all of these things feel forced and heavy and tight. I’d relax but it feels like if I did, I’d just sink to the bottom.

This reminds me of this near death experience (NDE) video I watched last night on YouTube. I am a NDE junkie and watch these videos on YouTube of those who have experienced them talk about them. Anyways, last night this guy was talking about how he was swimming in a lake and his legs cramped up and he sank and drowned. I’m not going to question what happened to him but I have cramped up several times and it’s super unpleasant but I never worried about drowning or had the sensation that I was going to just sink. Maybe if I wasn’t a strong swimmer I’d feel differently.

Just like it looked from the webcam and the stairs, the water is indeed bumpy but not incredibly turbulent. I don’t feel like I am fighting the current. It’s all good here and the sky is getting bluer by the minute. Oh yeah and it’s warm. Well, that might be my flare for the dramatic talking but it is NOT very cold and I’m feeling like I could use the word “comfortable” here without the slightest amount of sarcasm.

I make it to the southern end of the beach and boy it’s a different place here today than Monday. Besides being warmer there are no Pelicans on the water. I do see a couple groups flying pretty high but none of them seem interested in getting close to the water today. Time to turn around and head north. Up up up the coast I go. I’m letting my mind go in the water. It feels so good and I enjoy the feeling of my breath leave my body and carry my thoughts down into the lower currents that chase after the fish and drift with the kelp. On a couple occasions I alternate my breathing and as I transition from one side to the other I literally feel dizzy and have to pause for a moment.

As I pause I take note of the sound of the wind over the water. It feels so incredibly alone out here in a good way. The breeze whispers in a language that I don’t understand but certainly enjoy. I think I likely understand all that is intended to be communicated but there is no way for me to translate.

There are several large bushy stalks of kelp floating out here. They rise from their roots beneath the bottom and spread themselves out over the surface. I can see a lone Bass hovering beneath the leaves and then I look down and see a school of smaller fish. I bring myself back up above the surface and I cry out to the Pelicans that lunch is served but nobody seems interested. I soon reach my northern terminus and it’s time to head home. It seems like I move south at warp speed and then I head to shore hoping to intersect with the waves but nothing seems to be breaking here now. As I walk up the asphalt road leading to the stairs, I reflect on what a fantastic swim that was.

I run into Zeb about half way up the stairs and he advises me on some contingency strategies for shark encounters - perhaps some kind of inflatable submersible or maybe a gun? Nothing particularly sticks - gonna need more brain storming. As I drive home, Capo Beach and San Clemente look cloudier than Dana Point and when I get home and settled, I look at the Strands webcam and it is overcast at the beach again. Wow. My timing was perfect. That hour was like the heart of a watermelon or the center cut of Prime Rib.