Dana Strand Swim Report

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Unnaturally Natural

I left the house at about 6:30 this morning. There is no blue to be found through the cloud cover today.

Driving by Doheny, as always, someone is riding a wave. The water looks super smooth.

When I get to the Strand the water looks like it has some lump but it also looks smooth and it is grey as far as the eye can see.

Temperature is mild and pretty comfortable and the walk down the stairs is quiet and peaceful.

It’s medium tide. Probably about 2.8 or 2.7 and on its way down.

It looks like the area at the base of the lifeguard hut was visited by aliens last night. There are stacks of rocks strewn over the boulders at the base of the ramp. I see these all the time. Sometimes here but more frequently in the parking lot along the beach at Doheny State Beach adjacent to Capo Beach. I enjoy looking at them. They look odd and somewhat magical and unnaturally natural.

There is someone fishing in the shallow water just below the ramp.

Lots of Velella Velella on the sand today. Probably the most I have seen here at once. A school must have washed in last night or early morning. There is also a large branch lying near my take off point. I think I have seen this same branch further down the beach the last couple days. It has barnacles (or some organic thing) growing all over it.

I head into the water. Surf is a bit smaller today but a set comes in that is larger than the reported 2-3 feet. No surfers that I can see here, but plenty on the other side of the point at Salt Creek which is a somewhat higher quality break than this one.

The water feels about the same as it did yesterday. It feels just a single notch below neutral. It’s mostly comfortable but if someone were to give me a temperature dial, I admit I’d adjust it just a tad warmer.

Before long I am well on my way south. I feel similar to yesterday with a similar mindset. I treat each moment as an eternity. There is no finish to this swim and no end to this stretch of coast. Every now is forever. All time rests in the single house upon which I fix my gaze as I pass. Then the next and the next as if the previous one was never there and never will be.

When I turn to make my way north, I am consumed by shades of grey. It’s like swimming in a sensory deprivation chamber but the grey is substituted for dark. It’s like swimming in a void and there is no structure or line to divide one set of matter from another. The variations in the shades of the clouds or the shadows from the rocks on the ocean floor become the significant landmarks and milestones. Thoughts collide with dreams and these shadows grow personalities.

The only sound is breath against water and flesh striking the water’s surface. Everything is water.

As I make my final turn around to swim toward the finish, I can see several other swimmers inshore from me. They have green and orange flotation buoys.

My goggles have fogged up and I can’t get a clear view of the individual houses on the bluff. This rarely happens. A big selling point of these goggles was the “No Fog” sticker affixed to the eyepieces. Given that I have had these practically 2 years with frequent use in salt water, I forgive the fog.

I cut in front of my neighboring swimmers to head for shore. They are pretty much heading for the same spot just 50 feet south.

I towel off and put on a couple top layers. Why not? The temperature is mild but this definitely adds some comfort to this grey and gloomy morning.

I briefly say hi to a couple swimmers. One proclaims his eagerness for high 60 water temps and I share in the enthusiasm. If we can get some sun it won’t be long at all.

On the drive home on PCH it begins to rain. I refuse to turn on my wipers out of sheer principle. Then it gets ridiculous and I relent.