Quite a late swim today. I didn’t leave until 1:30. I really wasn’t planning on swimming but some scheduling stuff came up and I’m not going to be able to swim tomorrow so I’m making it happen today. The wind has definitely picked up from the morning but it’s not too bad. I see a little chop on the cams but it’s certainly lighter than it has been the last couple days at this time.

It’s a beautiful sunny day but it really is starting to feel like Fall. Not that that is a bad thing. There is something about the light that I can’t explain that carries the essence of Fall. Also it was in the low 50s this morning but it’s well into the mid 60s now. I get in my car which does not experience the breeze and it is delightfully warm. I treasure this warmth in my heart all the way to the beach.

Along Pacific Coast Highway I watch the Palm Trees, the same one’s I despised in my 20’s, swaying with the building wind. When I get out of my car the temperature drops but it’s ok. It’s in the upper 60’s now - how bad could it be?

It’s a lovely day here. The texture on the ocean surface catches the light of the sun which electrifies the entire top layer. I know it’s not even 2:00 but it feels like 4:00. When is dinner?

I haven’t even touched the water yet but I’m pretty sure it’s down yet another notch since Tuesday. This run of west wind has not stopped. It has not been brutally strong but strong enough to knock the Camp Pendleton buoys down to 63 when I first looked this morning. Oceanside is 66 - must be nice.

I’m finally on the shore. The water looks pretty stirred up and yep, it feels cold. Wow it’s hard to believe how far we have fallen in the last week. I choose to ignore my feelings. Not a good idea under normal circumstances but we are just outside of the bounds of normal right now. I don’t see anyone else in the water.

I walk on out. Do I really need to shuffle my feet any more? I think we may be past stingray season. They've all been chased away by the spiny lobsters. I take a couple bold steps and the wakes from the small waves here come up to my chest. Yes, I tell myselves, we are really doing this.

I push off and start swimming. I start on a long exhale. The cold enters in through my skin and exits out my lungs. I’m mentally opening up the pores of my skin to embrace all of the cold I can possibly find here. I’m envisioning myself drawing it in. It does not take long and I come to the realization that I am going to survive this. The cold is not so bad and I’m going to enjoy this afternoon swim.

There is quite a bit of bounce on the water. The entire ocean here is alive as it pushes me south. The water is fairly clear and I see a school of fish swimming beneath me. I look to my side as I breathe and watch the golden shore. It’s cold and I know I am going to be here for a while. I relax and give over any anxiety to the water. I settle into the faith that everything here is enough. I have everything here that I need to get me through to the end and relish the experience.

I stay fairly close to shore over the entire journey south. I can clearly see the sandy bottom below me. Every now and then I look ahead to the cliffs that hold the headlands. They stand tall and absorb the sun light. They dominate this entire area. As I get super close, there are more rocks on the bottom and then there are my landmark rocks that tell me it is time to turn around. I position my camera for my usual shot of the cliff and then…oh no…my camera is doing some kind of count down. Ugh. Water has gotten into the housing. The camera is fine (it is waterproof) but the water messes with the touch screen and wreaks havoc with the settings.

This is so very annoying but I have to laugh at myself and my rollercoaster relationship with my cameras. I actually take my camera out of the housing and turn off the timer and put the camera back. Now there are drops inside the housing. I have no idea how these pics are gonna turn out but who knows, maybe the water will create some cool effect and I will discover that these pictures open up a whole new and unique style of photography for me.

I soon turn around and start to head north. I spot some kelp and stop again to take a picture. Again my camera goes berzerk and I take the camera out and make things right. Then I notice that there are a bunch - maybe 10? - sail boats coming north that have just come around the point. They look pretty cool. I try to get a decent shot of them but the activity on the water makes it difficult if not impossible to capture the whole boat. I think I’m just getting the tops of the masts. And who knows what they will look like with the water leaking in near the lense. Definitely time to order a new housing. Fortunately that is way cheaper than the camera.

I keep swimming north and soon I find what looks like a long vine of kelp stretching down into the deep of the water. Oh it’s not a vine, it’s a rope. Another pre-season lobster buoy. I can’t see the bottom to see if anything might be in the trap and I’m too lazy to dive and check. I mean I’m not that lazy. Before you start getting all judgy, why don’t you come on out and check? I grab a pic of the buoy and then a Pelican flies over. I get a late shot of the Pelican but it’s kind of far now to get excited about.

I keep swimming. The water is all over the place and teases me as it continues to find new and different angles from which to splash me right in the face. I love it. My thoughts expand in an untamed explosion of voices and images and songs and memories. There is no pushing or willing them away. All I can do is watch them and then watch my perplexed reaction to them. I want to achieve some kind of composure or peaceful state but who am I kidding? That’s just not going to happen here right now. The best I can do is fully immerse myself in the chaos and confusion that this chop stirs up in my head.

I near the north end and while I admit the water is cooler than Tuesday which seemed pretty cool as it was, I still feel pretty good out here. I take in my surroundings and what a beautiful day and place to be. Everything looks so clear. The sky, the headlands, Monarch to the north and the water just off the horizon. It is all so pure and sits out here almost by itself - undisturbed.

On the final part of the swim south I go all the way to the asphalt until it looks as though I could kiss the sand. I stand up and look down the coast in both directions. I feel like I have found the sweet spot of Dana Point right now. It’s like the center of the watermelon. There is no better spot right at this moment.