I left the house at 10:00 and the day is starting to look pretty spectacular. The skies are clear, the air is still and the temperature is 60 degrees. Right now, right here it feels like Spring.

When I get to the parking lot, things just seem to be getting better. I can’t see Catalina but the sky is totally blue. The water is relatively still and the onshore breeze has yet to show itself. I feel very warm. Top this all off with my favorite parking spot being empty.

As I begin my walk down the stairs, I notice that the water looks clear. I can make out the silhouettes of the rocks beneath the surface of the water. I’m excited to get in the water.

I get to the beach and it is low tide - lots of beach to walk on today and it’s looking pretty sandy too. It’s hard to imagine that there could be a better place nearby to be right now.

I find a spot where I can easily stash my pack - no rock climbing required today.

As I walk into the water I try to map a route to get me from this boulder field that sits about 4 feet from the water’s edge and stretches about 15 to 20 feet out where the bottom becomes sandy all the way to the surfline. I just can’t find a good path so I take things one step at a time and try to place my feet on somewhat level ground and avoid the bigger rocks. The water is clear and fairly calm so I can spot the large rocks pretty well.

Over the three years I have been swimming here, I have never seen rocks in this spot, which is why I have chosen it as my go to launch spot. I’m pretty sure these rocks have always been here but have been buried beneath the sand. I’d kind of like to come by at a super low negative tide to see if there is another ideal sandy spot around but I wonder if there is.

Once I am over this hump of rocks. I walk a few steps until the water gets waist deep and then I start swimming. Compared with my other swims over the last week, today it is a breeze getting to and past the surf. The short period west swell has definitely wound down.

I am soon at a spot where my hands are brushing against the floor with each stroke so I resume a walking position.

Right here this water looks absolutely magical. It is crystal clear, the sand is flawlessly smooth, visible and bright and the small waves break like liquid glass. It’s like one of those scenes you see in a travel brochure and think to yourself, “if only I could be there right now.” Well lucky me, here I am.

There is not much surf to walk through and then I start swimming. The water is still pretty darn shallow so I swim out a little further just to get deeper where the water is more interesting with rocks and kelp. I see a small school of fish swimming along the ocean floor.

I stay much closer to the shore throughout the entire swim today which is nice. There are no waves out here I’d care to avoid and the current is super light.

I’m swimming and swimming and I just can’t help but constantly think how wonderful this day is. When I think of how it is different from yesterday, each difference is rather subtle. I mean yesterday was mostly sunny and pretty warm, but there is something in the hue and timber of this day and place that speaks paradise.

Funny (or tragic) thing is, come tomorrow when there is a 100% chance of rain, swimming in this exact same spot (which I do not plan on) one could hardly imagine such a day as this could exist. Welp, the weekend is supposed to be nice.

The water is still cold but every now and then I can feel some warmth radiating near the surface of the water.

I turn around at the south end and begin swimming back up north. There are quite a lot of birds flying about today. It seems like every time I raise my head for air, I see one and sometimes several fly over me.

I am letting go into this water. Every so often I feel my breath and heart rate in a somewhat elevated state. I notice this and then focus on relaxing my body. I’m emptying myself of ideas and and the urge to create some kind of a mental model of the divine. The divine that seems so inextricably woven into this entire landscape. Why do I need a model when I can instead just swim and breathe and feel that which exists all around me right here. I swim and I relish what I have here. I raise my hand into the air of a limitless sky and let it fall and splash against this vast vast ocean. I wonder how far the energy of that splash will ripple outward before it dissipates into nothing.

It’s pretty darn cold but I feel pretty good and capable of a full swim. The northern leg feels like it passes so quickly and before I know it I’m near the Salt Creek lifeguard tower. I pause and look about me and am so grateful for what is around me.

The swim back to my starting point seems to go quickly and I stand when I get to the shallow water. I really want to see if I can find a sandy path to shore. I end up walking a ways south and find a trail that passes through the narrow spaces between rocks and puts me just a couple houses down from where I usually come to shore. I’m not so sure I could retrace this on a not so clear and calm day.

I grab my pack, towel off on the sand and put on a shirt and sweatshirt.

The entire walk back to the car feels like it takes place in a dream from which I would rather not wake.