Zipper Won’t Zip

The surf has finally come down at the Strand and Salt Creek within my wimpy comfort zone. There is still some head high surf in the water but it’s well under 10 feet. I leave my studio at 9:15 and skies are a dark overcast.

I descend Palisades Drive and calm has been restored at Capo Beach. No surfers today. On Sunday, I ran through south Doheny and the Capo Beach parking lot. This was the day after my last post where I swam at Capo. Surf had risen since that Saturday and was crashing into the parking lot. As I was approaching the parking lot that morning, the road was flooded and my first thought was that some sewage pipe had burst and was emptying onto the street. Then I saw what the waves were doing and the water source became obvious. It was something to watch and I was glad I decided not to swim there that morning.

Well no such commotion today. As I drive past San Juan Creek and look out onto the main surf breaks near the river mouth, it’s crickets in the wave department.

Approaching Selva, the hills ahead to the north of the golf course and east of Coast Highway are shrouded in a misty haze. The ocean surface is smooth. I park and head down the stairs. I watch anxious thoughts float through my mind space. Just how big will the waves actually look when I get to the beach? This is a north-west swell so Doheny and Capo are not the best indicators of size here in northern Dana Point. Sure it looked fine on the cams, but the surfers also looked like ants. I try to just breathe over these thoughts and resolve to accept whatever the water gives me.

The biggest surprise, actually, when I get a view of the shore is the state of the tide. High tide was a 6.3 over an hour ago and should be about 5.8 now. However, there is no dry sand on the beach. Waves are washing right up to the rocks. It’s been 11 days since I was last here and we must have lost some sand which is no surprise at all considering the surf. Prior to this, we would have had plenty of beach to walk on at 5.8.

Surf is what I expected. Not small but not scary big either. There is also plenty of space between sets so I’m really not concerned about water turbulence. I look south and can see decent sized waves breaking all along the coast and down at the southern end of the beach. There is also good size north at the point at Salt Creek.

The few beach walkers out today are walking the little trail above the rock revetment. However, I’m not concerned about getting my feet wet. In fact, that’s why I’m here. So I walk in ankle to shin deep water to my usual spot. I need to rest my pack on higher rocks as I prep and then I throw my backpack up to the top of the rocks so it doesn’t get carried off by some rouge wave. I’m also aware that it might be a lot trickier to retrieve after being in 58 degree water for over an hour. My agility may be slightly compromised. Well it’s up there now.

I walk into the water. I guess I’m already in it. The waves make it easy to get wet quickly and expedite the submersion process. The water is cold but not drastically colder than my last swim here. I cut my hair yesterday with my #1 razor attachment and am now questioning the wisdom of that activity as the cold settles in my unprotected skull. I have a slight ice cream headache which I know will subside soon. I head south and angle slightly west to avoid the waves at the primary breaks.

Everything looks grey and blurry. I stop and attempt to rub fog from my goggles but things quickly return to their obscured state. I can make out all the necessary landmarks so I just put up with the lack of clarity. About half way down the beach I finally start to feel like I have made peace with the cold and I truly feel good. My “glass half empty” mindset is wondering for just how long this will last.

When I reach the south end of the beach, I’m pretty far out and it’s a good thing because my big rock is getting pounded by surf. I take a few pictures of both ends of the beach but don’t want to squander this “feel good” feeling that I assume I am close to expending and I try to resume the north bound leg as soon as I can. There is no sign of any sun today to warm the surface.

I bear into my stroke and feel the grip of my hands move from solid to flaccid. The cold slowly rises and fills the hidden spaces of my insides. I toy with the thought of ending early today but I know I can make it. I shift my awareness and focus on relaxing every muscle that I can to bring me into equilibrium with the cold.

Every now and then I catch myself drifting shoreward and I need to correct my aim. I attempt to keep my gaze on that point just below the Ritz. It looks so fuzzy in the distance and lost in a haze. I see birds, Pelicans I assume, but cant make out their detail with their speed and my cloudy goggles. I don’t have the drive to stop and attempt a picture. I saw them and that’s gonna have to do. I can still see them now like dark dots in my mind’s eye. I can embellish them with all sorts of detail like an AI assisted rendering that is not artificial at all. I can also do so in the comfort of textiles that fully cover my body.

I can tell I’m getting closer to that lifeguard tower on the point. The cliffs sharpen. So does the cold. I can do this. I’m thinking of the coffee that I am drinking right now. Water visibility is not great but I feel encased in an unblemished blue fluid. It is pleasant to look at.

I know I’m past the little lifeguard hut at the base of the asphalt and entering into Niguel Shores territory. I am giving my mind a pep talk. I can’t afford to doubt. Faith is the key to my success. I have to fully immerse myself into all that I feel around me. I have to focus on every exhale and let them rush from my lungs outward to every part of me. I’m nearly at the north end. Just a little further. Am I there now? I think so? I’m not going to over think it and I take my pics and turn around.

Soon I’m right in front of where I laid my backpack. I feel the waves rise beneath me. I make a 90 degree pivot and head directly to shore. I watch a wave break behind me and surrender to it’s force and let it do the work of pushing me closer to those rocks. I’m here now and the tide has come down a touch from when I started. Damn it. Can I climb these rocks to fetch my pack? I find footings in the lower rocks and grab it.

I get to the asphalt and know I’m not going to want to walk all the way to the top without extra warmth. So today I make the rare stop at the lower showers. Oof. Who engineered these? Why can’t the water flow longer after I release the button? After what feels like quite some time, I am ready to dry off and put on a shirt and sweatshirt. My fingers just can’t get this zipper totally engaged to zip. Note that this is an ancient hoodie that is difficult to zip even when I am warm. About half way up the stairs, I manage to get it zipped. Ahhh. yes. I even allow myself extra decadence and apply the hood.