Now This Looks Like a Beach

I leave just a little before 11:00 this morning. Skies are mostly sunny. There are some wispy clouds out that are intermittently dimming the light just a bit. As I near the beach parking lot, there looks to be some more significant clouds over Laguna to the north and east. It’s about 60 degrees out and there is a slight onshore breeze blowing that is making the air feel a little on the chilly side. I’ve just got to power through this dread I have of the cold right now and get in that water. I watch the dread hovering over my thoughts like a cloud all the way down the stairs. All the while I know it is an illusion. I know I am going to get in that water and it is going to be good. But I am directly beneath the shade of cloud dread. I watch the fear and the desire to be elsewhere move through me as if it is some foreign body with distinct edges. Somehow this observer perspective slightly subtracts from its bite and makes it into more of an object of fascination.

I’m also searching the water for signs of a rust colored cloud. Just before leaving, I could see on the web cam this very dark orangish cloud that looked like it was stretching from the edge of the shore to just barely past the surfline. It looked kind of nasty and very isolated and narrow as if it could be sewage or something making its way into the water from the outside. Who knows? It could just be sand but it’s weird. Once I am a good ways down the stairs I see the cloud and it now looks more broadly dispersed at its outer edge near the surfline but it doesn’t seem to have traveled any further out past that point.

It’s a lower tide than I have seen the last few swims - around 2 feet. Wow, now this actually looks like a beach! Plenty of sand from the ramp to the northern end and all the way to the edge of the bluff. I don’t have to scramble over any scattered cobble to stash my pack. I head out to the water and watch a pelican fly by. I take a picture and capture it just as it is diving into the water to catch a fish. I’m too far away and later when I review my pics, I can barely even see it. Well I saw it as it was happening and it was pretty cool.

With the lower tide I can walk and walk on this sandy floor until I am close to the surf and need to swim. The water is clear here and I have an easy view of the bottom. There are lots of troughs in the sand and I fluctuate between thigh and chest depth. Soon the water is deep enough and the surf is big enough, though not at all “big” per se, that I need to start swimming. I try to swim out a fair ways to be sure I clear that cloudy bloom of whatever yuck I was seeing on the web cam.

I’m veering south and soon intersect with a small scuba boat anchored out here. I don’t see any signs of life on the boat and assume its occupants are in the water. There is a good, steady current flowing from the north and propelling me forward. It comes in a constant stream of tiny wakes. It’s a similar sensation to when a boat drives by but instead of gradually losing steam, the wakes never let up over the entire swim.

When I turn around at the southern end I am now heading right into them. It is not a particularly strong current and I don’t at all feel like it is a fight to get through. It’s just a small nuisance because these wakes are just high enough to travel right into my eyes and mouth. I can’t tell if my goggles are foggy or if it is more likely this small wave activity, but I don’t feel like I ever have a clear view of the horizon today. The flow is somewhat disorienting and I have the sensation that I am either swaying toward shore or drifting to open ocean, but whenever I look up I seem right on target for the Ritz.

I wonder when I’m gonna see that boat again. It’s probably about 2 thirds of the way down the beach heading in my current northerly direction. Did they leave? Surely I would have passed it by now. After I finally just forget about it, there it is all of a sudden right in front of me. Still no signs of life.

The water feels colder today - not significantly or disturbingly. It could certainly just be a fluctuation in my internal thermometer as well. Like I have been on most swims lately, I try to stay just on top of the cold. Let it be what it is and not try to wish it into something else. When I feel like I might be approaching overwhelm, I watch that and then it just seems to fade into the ocean. I watch as the cold tethers me to this physical experience of being and swimming in the water. It’s good. There has been a bunch of work stuff lately totally driving me nuts and right now that feels like it’s about a million miles away which is pretty much just where I want it to be.

Welp, it is time to swim in and each stroke narrows that gap again but I don’t let myself think of it. As I approach shallow water, it’s really quite beautiful - clear and blue - and the waves gently roll over me. I stand and walk on this rolling sandy bottom. I make my way up the stairs teetering and tottering between a chilly breeze and warm still air. I hold the rail and realize it is warm. I think I’ll just hang on to this rail for as long as I possibly can.