Bordering On Crazy

Once again, today is proof that there are so many different experiences to be had at the beach. I actually wasn’t really intending to swim today. After the morning surf report came out at about 7:00, I decided that the surf would likely be a little too big for my comfort level. It’s just near the border, but I also figured it would be nice to have the extra time free afterwards to do other things and not be working on this blog.

I had some work I wanted to get done before leaving for my run. Then work turned into more work and before I knew it, it was 11:00. By now, the “smart cam” - a web cam that can determine the size of the surf (or so they say) is reporting slightly smaller surf and I know that the swell is waning and will be getting smaller through the day and not larger. Also, it’s 77 degrees outside. Do I want to run in the heat or swim in what may very well be warmer water than my last few swims?

I’m still on the fence about the surf but it’s just not big enough for me to call off a swim. I can certainly handle myself. It may just be a little more stressful. I try to remind myself that this is by no means North Shore size - not even close. I might even have fun. It would be good for me to have some exposure to larger surf every now and then.

I’ve already got my running shorts on and my running shoes are right by my feet and ready to be put on. I put away the shoes and trade my shorts for swim trunks. I am incessantly refreshing the web cam and ready to call off the swim if the size comes back up. Eventually I decide to put a stop to that. It’s bordering on crazy - kind of like me!

So I am out the door just before noon. It is sunny with thin wispy clouds all over the place that I’m not even sure I can call clouds. They are like light brush strokes that add just a little texture to the sky. I get to the parking lot and exit the car and the sun and warm air feel so so good. I walk down the stairs and notice the waves rolling in and breaking further out than normal. I make a conscious effort not to pass judgement on this. I don’t want to be creating any stories about struggling in the surf. The only story I want here is the one I plan to tell afterwards about what actually happened. And wouldn’t you now it?! That’s the story I am writing right now. Do I embellish? Only I can know the answer to that!

When I get to the beach, it’s obvious that this swell has taken a toll on the sand level. Jupiter rock is almost completely exposed and there is a step from the end of the concrete ramp to the sand. The swell started on Wednesday and peaked yesterday. There have been larger swells for sure but this is the “season opener” of south pacific swells. For the most part, south swells dominate the Spring and Summer and northwest swells dominate the Fall and Winter. The northwest swells are known for having the largest potential in these parts. Strands and Salt Creek beaches where I swim are known for being northwest swell magnets but they also respond well to south swells too. Lower Trestles just south of San Clemente is the local king of south swells. That’s where the 2028 Olympic surfing competition will be held.

As I walk along the beach, the water looks pretty calm. It is obviously in between sets. The water feels cool on my feet and it’s just too early to tell what it will mean for the swim. As I walk into the water, a set of waves come and I pause in belly deep water for them to pass. They are breaking about 20 to 40 feet in front of me. They are big but not huge. They do seem to pack a punch though. As I am waiting, I notice that while the water is cold, t doesn’t have the bite that I remember earlier in the week.

This set of waves feels like it will never end, but it eventually does and I start to swim out past the white water. By the time I am clear of any oncoming wave and in the flow of my southbound swim, it becomes clear that this water temperature is just ever so slightly south of delightful. There are many moments where it is and then comes a cold patch but there are only a couple patches that I can remember being particularly frigid. All in all, this is quite nice.

I have to hand it to myself for allowing myself to truly enjoy the swim and not get all stressed out about the swim through the waves on the way back to shore which will be inevitable. I can be a bit of a worry wort, but today I give myself a pass. I should probably do that as a general rule.

I swim further from shore than I have on recent swims. The waves have been so calm lately but today is much bigger. Sometimes when the water is calm as a lake, it is hard to imagine that it could ever be as rough as it is today. However, out here past the surf, it remains calm. I do feel sort of a stir beneath the surface that I would not otherwise feel but the ocean surface looks smooth and these wispy “clouds” give it a sort of glow that makes it all look alive. It’s beautiful out here.

When I get to the south end of the beach, I try to exercise extra caution to not enter the surf that breaks against the end of the point. I stop at my usual spot (at least in terms of latitude) and I can see exposed rocks from the low tide just 15 feet south of me and the waves rise and pounce right on top of them. I am right at the edge of where I want to be. I linger here for a little bit and then turn around to head north.

Over the entire swim toward the Salt Creek lifeguard tower, I try to empty my thoughts into the ocean. The beautiful thing is that I can do this on every single swim and it would not even put a dent in the ocean’s capacity to hold my thoughts. It’s as if the ocean was made for this and perhaps it was. It gladly receives every dark and soiled and tender and beautiful thought and transmutes and purifies each one with salt and sand - polishing each one into a beautiful shining stone. There is a shore upon which it deposits them. This is the shore we arrive at when we pass to the other side of this life. We will move our hands and our feet over every grain and that is how we will remember and learn before we pass on to our next life.

I could end this post right here but I have to cover the swim to shore. So I knew this was coming. I get to my usual starting point which is also my ending point. I begin to head due east. I see a wave behind me but it is not yet ready to break and just gives me a gentle push closer to shore. Then the next one comes and it looks like it is going to break right on top of me. I pause to assess and determine I would do well to dive. I dive just as the lip touches ground above be and it pushes me face first into the sandy bottom. My goggles hit and are pulled off of my face. There is a slight burning sensation but I’m mostly bummed that I lost my goggles.

I resign to the fact that I will soon be driving to Big 5 Sporting Goods to get new ones as I let the next couple waves drag me closer to shore. Then I stand and see something dark floating on the surface - my goggles! I move toward them as fast as I can. I dive below the next wave and reach for them at the same time. I miss. Then I emerge and search around and spot them again and grab them just before the next one rolls over me. I am so gleeful to be reunited with these even though I am really due for new ones.

As I walk back up the stairs, I wipe my nose and see a hint of blood on my fingers. I think my nose is bleeding from the inside but when I get to my car I realize I scraped off the skin where my goggles connect the two lenses at the bridge of my nose. Nice. I just hope it looks cool and not pathetic after the scab forms.