Impending Orgasm
I’m trying to get in as many swims as I can before the swell from tropical storm Marie arrives - possible forerunners coming tomorrow. I head out early just before 7:00 today so I can be back before a 9:00 meeting. I’d really like to do this before 9:00 to beat the higher tide. Again, it is noticeably cool out. It is also a beautiful morning. The sky is super blue with lots of pretty, fluffy clouds. I get to the parking lot and head down the stairs and once I get a good look at the beach it is clear that there is even more sand than yesterday. So this is two days of increasing sand. That’s great to see but once Marie hits, I really wonder what this place is going to look like this time next week. I have no doubt that it will eventually all come back, it’s just a pain to walk on rocks in bare feet.
I was planning to swim north today but here on the beach I realize that the sun is rising. I’m thinking that the southern route will be a better sunrise swim. Also, I am pressed for time and that route ensures a shorter swim. So I decide to change plans and head south today.
It is nice to be here at the lower tide. It is under 3 feet but the water level is still very high relatively speaking due to the diminished sand level. The ground right at the edge of the water is quite rocky. Then there is a dip that very quickly takes you into much deeper water. Then the floor rises again with a sandier texture.
As I am walking out into the water, I see a flock of pelicans in the southern distance. I can see that they are making their way north in my direction. So I wait for them to arrive. I keep my eyes steady on their tiny, fluttering outlines. It’s like an imminently impending orgasm. You know what is coming and the anticipation grows steadily. You can almost feel the sweetness already. You want to declare this news to your lover so that you are both sure to be present and share this moment together. Suddenly they are here. They are right in front of me and an explosion of beauty bursts in front of me. It’s so good. And then there they go. I remain awestruck by what I just saw and they are still beautiful.
I make my way forward and soon I am swimming south. The water feels so good. It feels amazingly and tropically warm. The sun has already risen over the bluff. It still looms just above the cliff and hides behind those fluffy white clouds. One moment I see this stunning and fiery landscape on the shore in front of me and the next moment I just see water all around me and everywhere as if I am witness to two completely different but wonderful worlds. I reach the headlands on the south end of the beach. The sun still hides behind clouds but it is bright nonetheless. It shines on the large rocks sitting here in the water close by. It highlights the white water breaking over them as the waves roll by. Then more pelicans come. These are heading north to south. They skim above the surface and pivot west as they hug the point. Amazing. I am alone but not alone here. I feel very small but connected to something immense.
I swim north now. Because I always breathe to my left, I face the horizon as the sun continues to rise on the opposite side of me. Even though I cannot see it directly, I am made very much aware of its presence. It’s luminosity increases and soon it’s as if there are explosions going off behind me. I have to stop and look. So I do. It’s so bright and illuminates this huge expanse of water. To the north, I notice an object in the water. It is large and golden and I assume it must be some kind of a boat. Upon closer inspection, I see that it is just the point that forms the edge of Three Arch Bay. It’s the boundary separating Dana Point from Laguna Beach. The sun gives it a honey-like color. This is all amazing.
I keep moving north and soon see the red buoy that sits beyond the mid point of Niguel Shores. Today I am slightly offshore of it. I pause the swim to have a look around. I see something bulbous just 15 feet west of me. I assume this is another swimmer at first and then it dawns on me that this is a seal. It submerges itself and I look around and keep my eyes focused in its direction to see if it will come back to the surface. It doesn’t. I look below the surface to see if I can see it anywhere. I can’t.
I swim further north another 5 minutes and I just keep noticing how the light is changing. It’s intensity grows and demands that I look. So I stop again and stare in the direction of the sun. I do not look at it for obvious reasons, but I aim my camera towards it so that I might be able to look later. Then I hear a significant splash. Something that is not me has risen out of the water and fallen back in. I am sure it is that seal again. I wait to see if it might show itself but I don’t see it again.
I finish the swim. It’s just hard to believe that I live here now. As I write this I look out at the water and I wonder if the water I see is the same water that I swam through earlier. Given my location and perspective, it might be well farther out than I was. How is it that this happened? I was practically raised on this beach, moved away, thought that I would never afford to live even remotely close. Then life changed and my thoughts changed and my beliefs changed and my priorities changed and the way I made decisions changed and now here I am.
