Painting the Sky
It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon and there is not a cloud in the sky at 12:45 as I head for the beach. When I get to the parking lot, the ocean looks fairly textured and there is just a bit of chop in the mix. I can tell there will be turbulence today for sure but I’m ready for it.
The air is warm as I walk down the stairs but the Autumn light and shade makes the day feel so late and I still haven’t had my coffee yet. It’s just starting to come down from a modest 4.8 high tide. Surf is small and junky. Water feels pretty good. I’ve been watching the buoy data the last couple days and it is looking like the temps may have actually come up a degree.
I start to swim and it is definitely rough and tumble conditions. It’s funny because overall surf is small and as you look out onto the water from the beach, one would figure its no big deal. It’s just water. And truly it is not a big deal as deals go, but when you are just a body floating on the water, it feels like the ocean is conspiring against every effort to make forward progress.
The current is definitely moving from the north and as I swim south, I can feel myself being pushed forward. It’s all good. I let my mind merge with the movement of the water and I let go to this experience of being tossed and pushed in the water. I feel the cold, which is not all that cold, on my skin and I notice it moving and the friction has a sort of burning sensation that does not actually burn.
As I near the southern cliffs, the sun draws out the greens and browns of the brush and rocks and the blues and white of the water below. Waves are breaking against the rock islands far offshore and they spray white into the air painting the sky.
I turn around and now I swim against the current. I wonder if I can exceed the momentum of the water pushing against me as though perhaps this is the one time in three and a half years of doing this swim that the current wins. I don’t think so.
I do indeed make my way north. Especially on the southern end of the beach, the swim feels like it is happening inside of a washing machine to the point of being disorienting whenever I raise my head for breath. The wakes look like they are coming from random directions, which they are. I frequently look forward and correct my course shoreward.
It’s hard to believe that it is November 19th - Thanksgiving week and the water is still in the 60’s and maybe mid 60’s. I have no complaint. I stop a couple times along the way to the northern end of the beach. When I look behind me towards the point, the water is moving up and down hiding and then exposing the point. The colors still look vibrant even from this distance. It’s so great to be here.
On the final leg of the swim towards my finishing point, I look back towards the Ritz Carlton and I notice that there is a huge Christmas tree on the top of the bluff probably on the main lawn of the hotel. It is really impressively large. I wonder what it looks like when it is all lit up. No need for a light house maybe until January at least. I’ve never noticed this in previous holiday seasons.
Well the swim is done and even though it is only about 2:30, it feels like 5:00.
