Pretty Super Great

Oh my goodness it feels like it has been forever since I have swam. We had four incredibly cold but beautiful days of swimming and then dense fog all last week. Every single freaking day from Monday to Friday. There were a couple days that had about a two or three hour fog free window in the mid-morning over Doheny and Capo but meetings prevented me from getting out. Then a large south swell rolled in over the weekend. Yesterday may have been fine but I just didn’t want to deal with the stress and I got a lot done with the time that I was not editing photos and writing these posts. I know…excuses, excuses.

Well here we are and the swell is winding down and there is no fog. It’s completely overcast and a bit dreary but I can see all the way out to the horizon. I’m aiming to leave around 10:00 but I don’t make it out until 12:45 due to impromptu meetings. For a moment I thought I might need to call off the swim another day. Wind is picking up but in the end, who cares? Well maybe I do a little, but it’s relatively light and I have just got to get in that water. The ocean might forget my name, and that would just make me sad.

As I drive to the beach I am realizing that the late hour does have an upside. I can see patches of blue sky forming. It does not at all feel sunny but who knows? Things could change. And if they don’t, it still makes for an interesting sky. Also, the air temperature is above 60 and that’s never a bad thing.

I park and it feels like there is a little less blue sky here than there was at home but there is some to be found. There is a light breeze in the air coming from the southwest and a fair amount of texture rests on the water. Well, maybe it is not so restful. Whatever, bring it!

I really don’t have any cold water anxiety today as I head down the stairs. I have ben watching the buoy data all week and it has been gradually climbing and is a consistent 60 degrees in Camp Pendleton, 61 in Oceanside and 59 in San Pedro. So I am anticipating 60 given the late hour. I am actually trying to talk some sense into myself and reminding myself that it is 60 and not 70. Somehow, I feel like 60 translates into some kind of tropical paradise given the temps I had a couple weeks ago. Boy it sure does feel good to be here. Will I still recognize the beach?

I do. I can tell the sand has dropped by the large step that exists from the end of the concrete ramp to the beach floor. However I don’t see any exposed rocks in the water so we are good. The water still feels cold to the touch but my feet do not ache. This is progress. The tide is somewhat high and there is some surf in the water but nothing to make me stress out.

I get in the water and it does not take long to step down into a chest high trough. I try to feel around for where the sand will rise but it just seems like it is going to be easiest if I start swimming now and dive under and through the oncoming shore break. So I start swimming and dive under several waves. It doesn’t take long to discover how much warmer thins are. Probably about half a second. I feel strong. I don’t feel like there is some kind of external force that is trying to usurp my mobility.

I make it past the surf…I think…because there is a lot of activity on the surface all over and it does not feel at all settled. I swim south and eventually get into a groove. I am definitely heading directly into the current but I am moving forward. I wonder if this were my very first swim here if I would give up and head back. I might just assume that this chaos would surely over power me. However I know now that eventually the chaos just becomes part of normal and the body adjusts to the movement of the water and you find some space in which to meet the water and you form agreements with what you will give and the water will take and vise versa and then you put your head down and you move your arms and you kick your feet and you keep moving and you keep kicking and before you know it you are half way down the beach.

I eventually find myself at the southern end of the beach under a grey sky and immersed in a dark blue ocean that expands as far as I can see and beyond what I can imagine. The clouds take the light from the sun I cannot see and disperse it over the water as they see fit to do.

As I swim back north I am pushed along by the current and there are long periods where it seems like I see no horizon at all but just rises in the water right in front of my face that I hope to keep separate from my breath. Then the water temporarily settles and there are broad brush strokes of cloud and some scattered windows of soft blue light. Both the sky and the water seem painted. Is this real?

Half way up the beach I reach the kelp forests. I try to strategically press my hands down on the leaves to clear a path through this tangle like using a machete in a jungle. I stop and watch the water rise and fall right here and the kelp hovers on the water sticking up like grass on rolling hills that literally are rolling. I see colors here on the surface that are all in the blue/grey/green color space yet seem incredibly rich and vibrant.

I pause a couple more times on the swim and think I might be hearing dolphins. I might hear a faint squeak or a huff of air but it is probably my skin squeaking against skin and the wind blowing on the water. I don’t see any dolphins but that doesn’t mean they are not here.

At my northern turn around point, I watch the waves breaking up ahead at Salt Creek which is where the primary surf action appears to be. I turn around and head south to fight the current again but the fight is in my favor. I watch the kelp slide past me as I gain ground toward my destination. I just love this soft shade of blue that seems to be wrapped around every single thing.

Finally I head to shore and into the waves that push me further towards the beach. I take photos of oncoming waves and then duck beneath them and let my body toss freely beneath the plumes of white water. It’s all pretty super great.