Leaving at 6:00 under overcast and dreary skies. It is particularly drizzly this morning. The streets and cars are wet and there is foggy mist covering the tops of the local hills. It does help to know that the water will be 64. I just need to get myself from right here to that water.

As I pass Doheny, the cloud layer is low and thick and although it is not technically fog, it makes me wonder if there will be visibility issues in the water. I know this is just my thoughts painting a more grim picture than what actually exists (it’s my special gift). Once I get to the Strand parking lot, I can tell that the visibility is just fine.

I get out of the car and walk through this drizzly mist. Even though the ground is wet, it is still slightly warm. That’s about the only thing that’s warm. It’s really not bad at all. With the right mindset, it is all quite lovely. I’m pretty sure I’ll be more amenable to that mindset on the other side of this swim.

It’s low tide at a -0.9. Lots and lots of sand on this beach. Surf has picked up today too. The water surface looks pretty smooth. The clouds and mist shroud this landscape in a hush that creates a distance between the intermittent sound of the breaking waves and the foggy shadow of Monarch point on the edge of this coast.

I start to ease myself into the water and it feels about the same as the last couple swims - nice. I wait out this set of waves and then swim out to the edge of the surf just as the next set rolls in. I point myself towards the western tip of Monarch Point and head out for a north bound swim.

The water is dark dark dark. It could be 100 feet deep here for all I know even though I happen to know that it is not. Sometimes it really doesn’t matter what I know. My mind play tricks on me and is lulled into the fiction of this ocean of infinite depth.

I pause and look towards one of the jr. lifeguard buoys. I see a flock of pelicans hovering over the water and coming my way. Oh what luck! I am so ready for them with camera pointed. I wait for them to get close and then just as I take the shot, a small wake rises between me and them. It doesn’t take much to totally block them from sight since both my camera and the pelicans are just inches over the water.

Onward to the point. I see a small group of surfers start to materialize a few hundred feet beyond. It looks like there is a pretty consistent stream of sets coming through here this morning. I pass over the point and the lifeguard tower. The ritz looms large over the cliff and that Monarch point is getting closer.

It feels like the north bound current grows stronger and I am pushed along towards the Monarch Bay Beach club. Seems like the large estates past the snack bar just zoom on by and then I’m at the far bathrooms and then the golf course and before you know it I’m at the little portable lifeguard tower between the sand traps and the beach club. Am I really halfway already? It feels premature to turn around but I know the return trip will probably be slower and I’m on a schedule with a deadine.

I figure I better turn around and I do. Now I have a view of the beach as I swim. Boy is it dark and misty but I know these goggles are partially deceiving me and making things even darker than they actually are. Every now and then I pass by a stalk of kelp that leans into the current or some of the tenticular variety swaying this way and that. I pause to gaze at my favorite double point view of Salt Creek and Dana. A stray strand of seaweed wraps around my ankle. It’s as if the seaweed is reaching out to share this moment with me and asking me to stay a while. Well I’d love to but there is just so much to do.

I pass the snack bar and approach the surf break again. The surface becomes more bouncy. I remove my goggles and wipe them with my fingers. I put them on and suddenly things are not quite as misty as they were before - significantly so. It’s a new day!

I pass over the Salt Creek point again and head toward the jr. lifeguard buoys. I see a swarm of swimmers heading in my direction. There are a good number of them out today. I’m actually seeing a small patch of blue sky poking through the marine layer above. What is this? Are we about to be transformed into a sunny summer time beach? It can happen quickly if the beach is adequately motivated.

I continue onward and approach my landing zone. I start to head for the shore and soon feel the push of the waves roll over me and they break just in front of me. Now I’m in the swirly whirly sandy white water. A larger set comes behind me and I try to catch a shot or two up close just before they break and then I am tumbled and turned over and over by the violence of the break. Who knows how these will turn out.

I walk to shore and it looks like the beach has absolutely no intention of brightening up. That blue patch is gone as if it were never there. Was it there? And both ends of the beach are covered in low clouds. I towel off in the drizzle.