We are seeing more sun this morning than we have in almost a week. Things started out mostly cloudy at dawn but by 10:00, hope prevails. The sky seems mostly blue and the web cam views of Salt Creek look very inviting. Speaking of Salt Creek, they installed two new webcams which is cool. I wish they would put more in at the Strand. I guess I’ll just have to buy one of those 30 million dollar houses and volunteer my deck.

I leave at 10:30 and when I get to the parking lot it is clear skies over the water and some clouds on the outskirts. There is a decent breeze blowing and some texture on the water. Overall, I can’t complain and I’m pretty happy to be here.

The water temperature dial has not budged in over a week. Surfline still reports 54. That would have freaked me out a couple weeks ago but honestly my last couple swims have been just fine. More than fine really. I have recently discovered how to track the near real time buoy data that includes water temperature. The closest one is the Red Beach Nearshore buoy which looks like it is somewhere off Camp Pendleton. It’s been reporting 55-56 all day the last couple days. Well as long as I am comfortable, which I have been, I really cant complain or wine, which I excel at.

One of these days I need to invest in a thermometer. I did this several months ago and bought what I thought was a finger sized thermometer I figured I could tie to my trunks or camera stick. Well it ended op being about 12 inches long and the thought of attaching it to my person seemed kind of ridiculous. I have not gotten the ambition to buy a better one.

When I reach the sand it is low tide and well under a foot. The surf is small. There are some rocks to avoid but I can clearly see where they are and there is an easy path through them.

I find a few pretty shells on the ground right next to each other. I pick them up to take home later.

It’s a bit chilly with the breeze blowing as I get ready to enter the water. I know that in like three minutes, I will be in a different reality where this cold will not matter.

I walk out toward the surf. The tide is so low that I can just walk and walk and walk all the way to the surf which is still breaking well outside these days. I finally dive under a wave and oh it’s cold. I just open myself and allow the cold to pass through me. I let myself feel this cold without judgement.

I feel a bit out of breath and my muscles are fatigued. This is pretty normal for the first few minutes in particularly cold water. With the breeze, the surface is pretty bumpy today and the water seems to blow into my mouth as I struggle for air. I just let this sensation ride itself out and I am fine before too long.

I am definitely swimming against the current as I make my way south.

This all just feels so great. It is hard to articulate my state of mind. My mind is not filled with thoughts and I am not analyzing my state of being. This is not an intellectual exercise. The best I can do is remember back to the scene I can now see myself in my mind’s recollective eye. I see the houses at the edge of the sand and the hills of dirt, brush and ivy. The water is everything. I breathe into it and feel no boredom, no anticipation of what is next, just a sort of buzzing contentment. The cold feeds an energy that vibrates along both the outer and inner edges of my skin. I imagine just staying with this energy and it is good.

The water was clear closer to shore but is pretty darn cloudy out past the surf.

On the trip back north, I feel the wakes of the wind swell gliding over me and adding to my forward momentum. I am checking in with the dexterity of my fingers all along the coast. While the outer digits lose some fine motor skills, I can form a complete cup of my fingers through nearly the whole swim.

Periodically I see tentacles of furry kelp swaying in all directions. From a distance they look like a moving dark mass and as I get closer I can make out the distinct vines and then their bristly ends brush against me.

As I look upon the surface with each breath, the water seems to bobble in a chaotic nonuniform pattern as if some outside force is stirring this pot. I guess that would be the wind.

Over the final push, things definitely get colder, but it is all good.

The tide has come down to the negative zone and is nearing the peak of the low. I walk the last 100 feet to shore.

I gather my things, dry off, put on my sweatshirt, grab my shells and head up the stairs. I place my hand over the metal railings and feel the warmth radiating off of them from the sun. It feels good on my cold hands.

My mind is pretty much right where I was hoping (and expecting) it to be earlier this morning when I felt heavy from the weight of work stress. The stress remains but my reservoir of exasperation has been emptied. I can see it from the top of these stairs floating out to Catalina. My apologies to the citizens of Avalon.