Earlier this week I was thinking today may not be a good swim day. The forecast was calling for rain and strong winds in the morning. I was woken up by my dog early this morning and there was just a bit of mist in the air. Then a little later it rained for just a few minutes, but by the time I was ready to leave at 8:30, there was no rain, the wind was only at 5 knots which won’t be smooth but also not choppy.

So I head to the beach and when I arrive at the parking lot, it is just beautiful. There are huge stormy clouds all about but also vast chasms of blue sky in between. At any moment it looked like it could squall or shine bright rays of warm light.

The wind has been a south wind and that means that the water temperature should not be getting any colder and given yesterday’s delightful high 60’s, I expect today will be just as nice.

I head down the stairs and the water is indeed a bit tumultuous but not Victory at Sea either. I may have to put in a little extra effort to make forward headway and I might get some water in the face but I’m thinking that is all good.

When I get to the beach, the tide is already pretty high and it is climbing to a 6.2 which it should reach in an hour. The water feels good on my feet. No threat of hypothermia for today. The clouds are just spectacular in every direction. Looking into my camera’s view finder I think, “Wow that looks cool. I’d like to go there.” Then I realize I am there.

I head out into the water and start to swim north. I see a pattern of ridges on the ocean floor that looks like they stretch out until forever. I look up and see Monarch point far ahead and it is bright as it catches the sun but at the same time there are dark dark clouds just above it and beyond into Laguna.

I keep swimming. I’d say the water temperature is about the same as yesterday. The water is very bouncy all about me. There are large angles of ocean surface approaching and retracting. I see several vessels out well beyond me. Perhaps they are checking on their lobster traps.

Last night Lobster season began at 6PM. I was in front of the Ocean Institute at about 7:00 and there must have been at least 20 boats out checking their traps. In the dark you could see the lights of the divers below the surface as they gather whatever is in the cages sitting on the bottom.

I keep swimming north and I have the horizon in front of me. It teeters and totters like a schoolyard see-saw. Wakes rise and dip. The water is lighter and then grows dark. The clouds are constantly reconfiguring themselves all throughout the sky. With every stroke, the world breaks apart and puts itself back together again - recreating itself with each and every breath into something completely new.

It looks like there is some sort of surfing event going on at Salt Creek. I hear what sounds like announcers on loud speakers and there is a good crowd on the beach. This is not an uncommon Salt Creek Saturday scene.

I’m thinking I am going to swim to the Monarch Bay Beach Club or at least close today. As I am getting close, I see a guy on a small one man kayak with a wetsuit and large fins holding his paddle. He is just a few feet away. I ask him if he is scuba diving and he says he is free diving for lobster.

I carry on and suddenly see a large flock of birds flying about the shore. The flock breaks up and many of them fly out just over me. Then they all fly back and reconverge on the beach. This repeats itself a few times.

Soon I am very close to the beach club and I decide to turn around. I see a few walkers on the beach and they look extremely close. I swear it looks like they have come out and are walking on the water like it is no big deal. I mean where else would you walk? Then I realize I have come closer to shore than I thought.

As I head back south it is obvious that I am now swimming against the current. This would make sense if the wind is coming from the south, which it is. It is not terribly strong. I think it actually looks stronger than it is because of the size of the wakes. Over time I see objects on the beach move past me so I know that I am making progress.

The sky just continues to amaze and delight me. Once I pass the point below the Ritz, I aim for the asphalt road and figure I will swim past my usual spot. The tide is high and I don’t expect to contend with any rocks at the shoreline.

Soon I emerge from the water and the light from the sky sparkles on the water. Boy was that great. I head up the stairs and savor each and every step.

Several hours later in the afternoon, I return with my toddler son and it is now raining in earnest and all the blue sky has left. He definitely could care less about the rain and I guess I don’t either. I feel fortunate that caught the swim when I did, the water is all topsy turvy now.