Another break in the fog this morning. Well, it’s not exactly NOT foggy but it’s not so dense that you can’t see the beach. In fact for a good part of the mid-morning, it was looking like we might see some good old fashioned sunshine. I was looking at the Salt Creek web cams and there was blue sky in plain sight just in front of a big fog bank. So I was thinking it would be just a matter of time before that fog melts away and it’s Summer time all over again.

I was not able to leave until 11:15. Everything is looking great. It is sunny at my house in Capo. The lantern district is mostly clear. Then just after that corner past Green Lantern everything changes. The hills north of the golf course are practically invisible and there is a thick marine layer sitting in front of the horizon and patches of fog surround the headlands. Things still look swimmable but I’m thinking about how I better get into that water quick before things change.

From the parking lot at the strand, visibility looks pretty solid. I cannot see the horizon but I can see far enough and I can see north past Monarch point even if it is rather soft and fuzzy. It’s all good.

The breeze is a little stronger than it was yesterday and the ocean surface looks a little ruffled but there isn’t any chop. I’m moving back and forth in my head as to whether to swim north or south. I settle for south.

When I reach the beach and look south, it looks like there is a crack at the horizon between the water and the clouds where a grey/brown/golden light is leaking through. I can’t place the color exactly, but I like it.

The tide is high and is just coming down. The water hits my feet and feels cold but perhaps a little less so than yesterday.

I get in the water just 20 feet shy of my usual spot because there is a guy fishing there and I want to stay clear of his line. I start to swim south and start to adjust to the cool water and mildly turbulent water. I soon feel pretty right and start to chug along toward the end of the beach.

Water feels very similar to yesterday but there might be more warm patches today. I’d guess the median temp is 63 to 64. Everything looks like it is shrouded in a thin veneer of mist here - in all directions.

When I get to the south end, there is a seagull sitting on the “big rock.” Funny because there was one yesterday as well. It’s not a rare occurrence but not common either. Is it the same bird? At what point does it become appropriate to introduce myself? I’ll respect his space and leave him be.

As I progress back northward, the wind seems to settle and the water’s surface grows more calm. It doesn’t get glassy or anything but it is noticeably less agitated and the swim is more smooth.

My thoughts, however, are still bouncing around. This happens to me all the time on my swims and I really can’t describe it. I feel like I am dreaming and all the while cannot remember the dreams. It’s a sort of persistent deja vu like sensation. There are echoes of images and conversation taking place but when I pause to look, they slip away. It’s a little frustrating because I really want to be able to examine these clouds that drift through my head. It’s almost as if it is a racket that I drown out as it has become a permanent fixture of my mind.

The end result is I feel caught between dream and wakefulness. I let go of my effort to rise above this internal commotion and then find myself getting lost in the shades and shadows beneath the water. There is a distinct dark edge in my left side periphery. Like yesterday, the water has some very clear spots today but I am not in one now. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I am swimming on the outskirts of a reef, but I know that I am not. It’s just a shadow but I pretend it is some solid mass and then it eventually morphs into nothingness.

The warm patches are so nice and the colder spots really are not that bad once I accept them. What is it about the cold? Why do we hate it so much? At least speaking for myself, I find it existentially frightening - almost irrationally so. But here in the cool water (I’m not going to call it cold), I cross back and forth over this boundary where on the one side the cold is friend and on the other foe.

I swear I am going to keep doing this for years and then one day I will truly lose all fear of the cold and find that I crave it. The moment that happens I will probably have to move somewhere far from the ocean which perhaps will be fine because I will have accomplished that which I have been meant to achieve and I never ever was aware that was the goal at all. Maybe that’s in the dreams I have out here that I can’t remember. Who knows?

I eventually finish up the swim and things look generally darker here than when I started. Still it is pleasant. It holds its own kind of charm, and I walk up the stairs with no regrets.