It’s official: we have transitioned from May grey to June gloom. The last few days, you can see some significant patches of blue in the sky early in the morning if you look in the right direction, but come mid morning that blue is gone. At least that was the story today and it feels appropriate to project it out over the past several days whether it is true or not. I’m just making things up as I go here.

I’ve been sick the last few days and today was the first morning I felt up to any strenuous activity. I left about 7:30 right after my 6:30 meeting. I’m still not at 100% but really looking forward to getting in the water.

I get to the parking lot and the water looks super smooth. The sky is grey with a blue hole over the Ritz Carlton. I guess you get what you pay for.

It’s serene and peaceful on the walk down the stairs. I hear a lot of complaints about these stairs, but I just love them. They get me in the mood on the walk down and allow me to reflect on the wonder of my swim on the way back up.

When I get to the beach it’s about a half hour short of a 3.6 high tide. That’s not very high but the water comes all the way to the rocks. In previous years prior to the great sand shift of 2023 that usually would not happen until about 5 feet.

There is still some sand to walk on if you don’t mind wet feet. Fortunately I prefer wet feet!

Still lots of fist sized rocks nestled in the boulders. It’s like someone filled a huge bucket with them, suspended it high in the air, and then poured them over the end of the beach.

I take off my shirt and get in the water. I thought my fever had completely passed but I feel an inner chill like someone needs to turn up the thermostat.

In I go and I am fully immersed. It’s cool then nice then cool then almost warm and then cool and on and on it goes. I focus on just how my skin feels in the water. I explore the chill I feel. The chill undeniably exists in a completely different universe than the chill of early March and April. However those colder waters have a completely different physiological effect. They force the body to shift into a different mode causing the cold to feel almost warm for a while. This chill is a kinder gentler cold and the body acknowledges it but feels no need to move blood around in significant amounts.

I swim and swim and swim and it is good. There is a thin film of joy that sits on the water and I let my body open to it and enjoy it.

The surf is pretty dead today. There was a south swell that peaked Monday and Tuesday but it seems to be gone now. On Monday I ran along Doheny State Beach. Surfline said it was 1-2 feet. It was not. The Monday morning report was one of those reports where the numbers just didn’t match the text. The report talked about head high surf at better spots and well over head high surf at “focal points.” Trestles’ numbers seemed right but Doheny, Strands and Salt Creek seemed like someone neglected to adjust them. The numbers at dawn always seem to be algorithmically generated probably based on local buoy data and then they change at about 6 with the AM surf report. I’m guessing that a human has physically looked at the surf and fiddles with the numbers to match what they see. Monday morning those numbers did not change.

Today the water wants to push me inshore and I find myself correcting course and aiming myself westward.

The water is cloudy and as I face the ocean floor I just see a light green with dark gradations and shadows. I am emersed in this world of shifting solid colors. Now and then I see the accents of a piece of stray sea grass or a dancing branch of kelp that is still joined to its roots at the bottom. Frequently my hands make contact with a free floating piece of seaweed. I can’t see it but my skin follows its course until it reaches my feet and we part ways.

As I get close to my northern turnaround point, I see something above the water out of the corner of my eye. It’s just a boat but then I hear what sounds like a short huff of breath (not my own) and I look around for signs of Dolphin. I suspect this was actually sounds from construction on the bluff. Then I see a blue buoy in the distance. Could it be The Green Monster back in its native habitat after a long Fall/Winter/Spring hibernation? I set a course to intercept it which is conveniently the same course I was already on.

Soon I can confirm it is indeed the Green Monster buoy. It is perfectly positioned right at my usual turnaround point. It was further north-west last year. So much has happened here since we were last in each other’s company, but there is just no time to chat.

I turn around and soon see another buoy further inshore. I aim to meet it and see it is Bob Marley. It’s great to have him back.

I have no idea where the other buoy is that I saw last week. I figure it must be out here somewhere. It’s a large body of water and buoys can easily hide behind the wakes that tend to be everywhere in the ocean.

Well I eventually make my way back to shore. I dry off and put on a shirt and overshirt. Ahhh, that feels good.

There is a crew of county workers putting up a new sign near the bottom of the asphalt ramp.

There is more cloud and less blue sky now than there was when I started an hour earlier. Those Ritz Carlton guests are not going to be happy about that.