I See You Richard Henry Dana

I leave a little after 8:30 this morning. The sky looks like it has collected itself after yesterday’s fickle haze. It’s partly cloudy out. There is plenty of light and sunshine but lots of scattered clouds that look very picturesque. Overall it is shaping up to be a lovely morning and I am happy that I am off to an earlier than usual start for a weekday.

My biggest dilemma right now is which direction to swim. I swam south yesterday and it might be nice to swim north for some diversity. I get to the parking lot and begin to head down the stairs and then it dawns on me that today might be a good day to swim out past the point out in front of the headlands. The surf is tiny and the tide is a little on the higher side - perfect conditions for swimming in that area which I rarely ever do.

When I reach the shore, I don’t walk all the way to my usual starting spot. Since I will be swimming further south than normal, I just walk up the beach a little ways to avoid some rocks and people who are hanging out in the shallows in front of the ramp. It looks like there are some divers right here just past where the surf would be if there actually was surf. I’m expecting the water visibility to be decent since it’s been better than normal and there is little surf to stir things up - yet another reason to venture past the point.

The morning surf report says water temperature has dropped, but I’m not too concerned since it reports the temperature here at 66 degrees which is pretty great all things considered. There was a buoy in Camp Pendleton reporting 64, but that’s still not hypothermic and the next closest buoy was reporting 70 so who can tell what we are dealing with here? After I push off the floor to start swimming, it doesn’t feel much different from yesterday. All in all the water is pleasant. Yeah it’s a little cooler but I can still feel patches of warmth especially just at the crust of the surface.

It is darn beautiful out here. It is just a little darker than I would prefer. The cloud cover which is absolutely beautiful is dimming the light from the sun and as I look south toward the area where I plan to swim to, I can see the cliffs adding shade to the water adjacent to the point. It’s ok. Not perfect but still plenty light to see.

Somehow the swim to the south end of the beach goes quickly. I think it’s because I am heading to a specific destination and I look forward to it as a fun and adventurous excursion. So here I am at my rock where I usually would turn around and head back north. Instead I pivot west and skirt along the reef that outlines the cliffs here. It is a nearly hidden and completely natural rock wall that runs parallel to the base of the headlands about 40 feet offshore. I can see pretty well and there are a couple of bright orange Garibaldis that stand out starkly against the dark rock and seagrass.

Eventually I am close to the first outcropping of a small rock island that is just west (offshore) of the headlands. There are a couple Cormorants standing on top and one has its wings outstretched. Just a little further south and inshore is my favorite rock that looks like a dog or seal (same thing really) from the shore. If you get close to it, it just looks like someone took a bunch of double fisted sized rocks and mashed them together to create some kind of abstract statue.

I try to decide on a path southward. Should I swim on the inside of the outcropping or outside of it. When I get to this point in the swim which I have only swam a handful of times, I feel like I am off the map. It’s like the earth is flat and I become afraid that I might accidently fall off the edge. There is a lot going on here and all of it unwatched, which makes it extra special and a little extra scary. I decide to swim on the outside of the outcropping.

The view from here is so spectacular and otherworldly. This is a part of Dana Point that few see and even fewer from my perspective here in the water. You can hike from the Ocean Institute all the way around the base of the cliff at low tides. That is a lot of fun and it has been a long while since I have done it. As I look towards the cliffs, they look huge and the base is dotted with caves - many of which are accessible at low tide.

I swim past that outcropping and soon I see a trough of white sand below me. I follow this trough that runs southward along the edge of the headlands. I am pretty much right at the middle point of the point. Yep. The point of the point. Kind of like the creme de la creme of Dana Point. I see you Richard Henry looking right at me from the bow of the Pilgrim.

I do wish there was more light here but beggars can’t be choosers. This is all pretty amazing. As I look south I can see the Eucalyptus trees that line the north edge of Doheny’s Boneyard break and I can see the Jetty that borders the harbor. Out in the distance is what I think might be Mt. Palomar and a whole bunch of coast you can never see north of here. If I look due west, there is the big red metal buoy often inhabited by Sea Lions. At least it was 40 years ago when I was in a boat and passed by it. Funny how I don’t think my 17 year old self could have ever fathomed I’d be doing this now.

I often think back to some point in my life and think “if only I could have discovered such and such back then - I could have been so much happier.” If only I could have been swimming here in my high school years. If only I would have skipped the couple years I spent at UCSB and went to San Francisco earlier. If only I would have spent my early 20s when I was in Costa Mesa at the beach and bike riding outdoors instead of reading Nietzsche and Kafka and Jung, et al at all hours of the night and early morning. If only I would have discovered software engineering when I was working in a warehouse in LA and living in a squalid La Habra apartment.

I don’t know. I think we discover what we discover when we are ready to discover it and somehow we need to pass through the valleys to reach the peaks. When I was knee deep in existential philosophy I don’t think the idea of bike riding and sunshine would have had any appeal to me whatsoever. It just wasn’t where I was. Yeah I wasn’t happy then. True. But I do value the reading that I did during that time. It has broadened my perspective and given me a point of view that I appreciate having now. It’s good to know the thoughts that those thinkers were thinking. I find it adds just another color to the landscape I inhabit.

I am weighing the pros and cons of continuing south. Part of me would just love to swim to the cove at the end of the Ocean Institute. However, I gotta say this is all a little spooky. I feel rather alone and exposed right here. I am no longer inside of the protection of the bay that Strands and Salt Creek sit in. I am at the edge of open ocean. Also, I have to get back to work. I feel like I have seen quite a bit and am pretty darn satisfied so I turn around to swim back.

Instead of swimming on the outside of that outcropping of rocks, I swim inside in between it and my beloved dog/seal rock. There is a large school of smallish translucent fish that swim right by me. I get super close to dog-seal rock and see it from a perspective I never get to appreciate. I love it. And oh that cliff and its caves. I swear I could just stare at it for hours. It is so fun to visit at low tide but I am seeing a vista from here that is so unique and special.

Once I pass the outcropping, I retrace the same path that I came to get here. Now the swim north seems like it goes by quickly because I am high from that little expedition. Also it is unspeakably beautiful out. There is probably less light than there was when I started but the clouds are freaking amazing and everything looks perfect.

I could probably get away with just swimming right to my starting point and skipping my usual northern leg to the bathrooms and back given the extra distance I put in out past the point. However I just can’t bring myself to stop just yet. I go ahead and swim to those bathrooms just short of the lifeguard tower.

I completely lose myself in the swim. I become unable to form normal thoughts. This is nothing unique to this swim. It often happens where I find my thinking becomes disjointed in the water and I fall into a sort of dream that lacks any kind of concrete plot line. Oh look, there is my cousin in the hospital. He is inches below the surface of the water and just can’t seem to breach. There is my brother nestled in the shade of the bluff. There is my dad who has recently passed from this life and now walks on the floor of the ocean like he owns the place. There is my four year old son full of so much preciousness as I struggle to father him with my club hands and club feet. I look below me and caught in the kelp are visions of my past and future laid out like pieces of a puzzle that I can’t seem to begin to put together.

There is the horizon. So Beautiful. So blue. On the water just above the reflections of the clouds. There it is again and again and again and again. I stretch my arms toward it as I receive every breath.