Shortly after I woke up this morning at about 4:15, I look at my weather app and see clear skies. Clear skies? Can’t be. I go downstairs and although it is still dark, I can tell it is a cloudless sky. Oh yeah. I’m excited.

I proceed with my morning routine of sitting meditation and walking my dog. On our walk, at which point it is light out, it is pretty much perfect out: blue sky all around with some high clouds to the west.

I’m heading to the beach a little before 6:00 and in the distance I can see dramatically whipped up white clouds high above. Doheny looks like some kind of a paradise with a perfect silky smooth ocean surface reflecting the blue sky above.

Driving into the Strand parking lot, all I can say is that this is one of those perfect Summer mornings one dreams of before reality serves it up with a heaping dollop of overcast on top. No overcast today. It is also very pleasant out and already in the mid 60’s. I walk down the stairs and the birdsong and rumbling waves are like some kind of acoustic therapy that melts its way into my heart. The clouds are perfectly arranged above. Not too much to dim the light but just enough to add texture and make the sky interesting.

The sun is just now coming up over the town houses on the other side of Dana Strand Road. I can tell that today will be one of those days I am glad my goggles are tinted. There is just one other couple coming down the stairs. It’s quiet here. Once I can see the beach there are only three others on the shore.

The tide is low and still below zero so there is lots and lots of beach to walk on. It looks like surf has picked up some since yesterday but not much. It is supposed to fill in some more throughout the day. The light reflects off of the wet sandy shore like an almost perfect mirror.

I make my way into the water shuffling my feet until there is enough depth to start swimming. The water is nice and gets warmer as I make my way farther out. As I turn left to head south, I see a warm orange glow reflecting off of the windows of the homes on the cliff down on the far south end.

Soon the sun rises over the cliff and creates a silhouette effect of the houses on the edge of the bluff. As I look ahead of me toward the headlands, I can’t make out the houses at all and have no idea if I am just half way or only a few houses to go until the end of the beach. It really doesn’t matter. I’m in no particular hurry. This is truly a magical morning of warm water, warm air, sunny sky, and calm surf. All of the elements have conspired together to provide everyone here with a true gift.

As I get closer and closer to the cliffs below the headlands, the light seems to constantly change. One moment it shines bright on the cracks and crags of the cliff and then grows soft and then shadowy and dark. Once I’m just about 50 feet from my turn around spot, I pass the boundary that puts me under the shade of the cliffs and now I can suddenly see details that were hidden just moments before. The low tide exposes the rocks all around that are close to the edge of the water.

The water seems to drop about five degrees in this shade - still pleasant enough. I stop for the turn around and soon completely forget about the temperature. I seem to be further off shore than usual probably because the bright sun has slightly thrown off my navigation. The rocks that usually appear to be far out seem like they are right here. I spend a minute or two appreciating the view and then proceed north.

I’m looking for the southern OCJG buoy. I must be far enough out to be on the same longitudinal line as the buoy. I never see it. Don’t know what is up with that. The surface is smooth enough today that I should not have any trouble locating it. I just keep going. Maybe it will show up next time.

All the way north I stare at the contrast between the clouds and blue sky. I feel like I could get lost in the cracks and grooves that provide texture to the clouds or maybe my mind can find a home in that one blue space between those white curling edges. If it did, would it ever leave? I can feel loose strands of seaweed run along my skin. Some I see coming and some I don’t. It is as if the ocean reaches out to touch me. Is it curiosity, affection or both.

As I get further north I spot lots of those half finger sized translucent jellies. Surely they must be bouncing against me but I don’t feel any kind of stinging sensation. I try to keep my eyes on the lifeguard tower far ahead but I cannot see it beneath the shade of the surrounding cliffs. Every time I look up I seem to be pointed more toward Laguna than the Ritz and constantly steer myself inland. I must be fairly far out. It is hard to tell just how far given the brightness of the sun.

I can see an orange buoy up ahead. I’m sure it is the far off shore North Star buoy and I’m even farther out than it. I now make that buoy my new focal point. I look up every couple minutes and it is just a tiny bit closer. It seems like an unattainable destination. Is it drifting further away from me? I look behind me and the mass of the largest cloud above becomes more dense and it briefly becomes darker here. Then the clouds breaks apart and the luminosity brightens again.

Finally here I am at the buoy. Yep, it is the North Star but where is the forest? Every time I swim to it, it seems to be surrounded by several thick stalks of kelp vines that make it difficult to approach. I don’t see anything like that today. There are a few stalks here and there but they are all hunched over and don’t reach the surface. Maybe the current is too strong.

I keep swimming just a little bit further. There are a couple large fishing tour vessels several hundred feet west of me and I can hear a voice over it’s loud speaker although I cannot tell what is being said.

I know it is time to head back. I need to lift my goggles off of my eyes to make out more details of the bathrooms on shore to determine my current location. I cannot make out the asphalt ramp at all or the little lifeguard hut that are my usual navigational way points. I can sort of make out the edges of the first and newer 40 million dollar house just south of the boardwalk. I guess that will do and I swim towards that.

As I get closer and closer to shore, I can barely make out a little more detail. I lift my goggles again and there is that blocky house that is my usual landmark marking the start and finishing point of my swims. I figure I can still swim a little further south before intersecting with the rocks and head to shore somewhat diagonally.

A set of waves pass over me and breaks right in front of me stirring up the sand below and hiding the ocean floor. Eventually I figure I’m probably in just a couple feet of water and stand myself up in knee high water and walk to dry sand.

As I walk up the stairs it is down right warm even though it can’t be later that 8:00. I’m not used to seeing any blue sky before 9:30 let alone heat on a good day. The water from the shower up top feels warmer than usual or is it only an illusion? It doesn’t matter. I’ll happily remain in this illusion for as long as I possibly can.