I left my house just a little before 10:45. I can see the palm fronds blowing about from the southerly wind, but the webcams don’t make things look too blown out. Not that it would even matter. It’s not like I wouldn’t swim today if I saw a little chop on the water. There is something about the warmer water that makes everything kinder and gentler.

That all said, as I am passing Doheny, it does look pretty darn blown out. However from the Strands parking lot, it doesn’t look so bad. Perhaps because Doheny faces south and Strands is a much more westerly facing beach. Whatever, it’s nice here.

Sun shines on me all the way down the stairs and it’s good. As I look out onto the water I can see the water moving north. The tropical swell doesn’t look to be producing much in the way of waves. However it is quickly approaching high tide, which tends to put a damper on the surf.

Not a lot of people here right now but not completely empty either. Regardless of the breeze, it is a perfectly clear day and the water is still warm which I can quickly tell as soon as it meets my feet.

I get in the water and I am soon consumed by the high tide shore break. As the water makes contact with my skin I note the coolness but it is immediately absorbed and feels great. I start to swim south.

The visibility is not as clear as yesterday. It is still blue and beautiful but more cloudy. I feel a little resistance from the oncoming current but still seem to make steady progress towards the headlands.

I’m swimming fairly close to shore and then try to add a little space just before I reach the southern end of the swim. I can see schools of Corbina swimming close to the surface here but the water seems extra cloudy. The fish are like some kind of ghost school of shadow-like creatures that are only figments of what they once were.

I turn around and head for the Ritz. I’m definitely in the groove of the current and I can feel the water roll over my head every now and then. I’m trying to keep my thoughts in the here and now. It’s a challenge that is almost made more difficult by the warmer water. Colder water helps to sharpen my focus because it becomes nearly impossible not to take note of it. And IT is all around me right here. This warmer water tries to lull me into a dream state. My thoughts cast themselves against my inner eyes and ears and before you know it I am lost in some screen play of memory and desire.

So I focus on precisely what I am seeing and hearing in the world around me, but the thoughts persist and try to pull me in to warm water oblivion. If I resist the thoughts, then again I’m in yet another alternate plain of reality away from here and now. My thoughts too are here and now. I want to pay attention to them but it just takes the gentlest nudge and I’m lost in a sea of somewhere else.

It feels like I have been swimming for a while and I pause to take stock of where I am. I’m just a few houses shy of the boardwalk - exactly where I often seem to linger forever in the current. I take note of the exact house that I am in front of. I’m quite a ways further out than I was when I was here and moving south. I’m curious if I give myself another five minutes or so if I will be nearly at the same spot.

Thankfully the next time I pop up I am half way into Niguel Shores row. I’m looking for the buoy, Big Bertha. I know for a fact that she is out here close because I could clearly see her from the stairs before the swim. I don’t see her anywhere because the water is so agitated and hides her small head from my small head. Then I pause and just let myself look at the water directly around me and feel the aloneness of being out here. It’s good.

I get to the northern turn around point and still can’t see Bertha anywhere. I’m curious if I am out past it of inshore of it. I’m guessing the former based on my current distance from the shore. I head south east and soon I am much closer to the shore and Bertha emerges into view about a hundred feet west of me. I keep swimming until I am just north of the ramp to the asphalt. It is now probably at the high tide time exactly. A wave pushes me forward and it seems I travel from shoulder high water to knee height with that single push.

I head back up the stairs in sunlit bliss.