It’s All About the Light
I left a little after 10:00 this morning. Skies are sunny and quite warm here at my apartment but looking west, I see a lot of cloud. It’s a thick haze that is not a solid cloud cover but not fog either. It’s just not clear blue sky which is disappointing. As I drive to the beach I’m trying to assess the situation and it seems like there is some kind of hidden but impermeable barrier just at the water’s edge preventing the blue sky on one side and the haze on the other from engaging in any sort of socialization.
In the parking lot I debate whether to swim north or south today. It’s all about the light. Where can I find more light. Things seem to be leaning in the north’s favor but it is still uncertain. I head down the stairs and this sun sure feels good. The heat is forecasted to get near 80 degrees and it is already well on its way and north of 70.
On the sand I reach the water and the water feels cold on my feet, but after just a couple steps into the surf, it feels good. I have been having inflammation on my achilles and the cool water feels good around that tendon. As I stand here waiting for this set of waves to pass, I wonder why I wait. Why don’t I just run on out into the surf and power through it? You know, like those junior lifeguards. I’m fully capable and the current conditions don’t cause any alarm, but I just can’t bring myself quite to that level of energy output just yet. I need to ease into this. Or so I tell myself.
As the waves roll over my shoulders, the water really does feel good. This all feels so good. As I look to the south and then to the north, there is absolutely no question that the north is the winner in the brightness category. So it is north then that I go.
I swim and watch the fuzzy horizon to my left. If this view was the only thing I could see, I’d think this was a dreary overcast day. However, there is something totally different going on to the other side of me. Every now and then I lift my head and look ahead of me in the direction I am headed and can see the patches of blue sky covered in gentle, vaporous mist.
I stop to take a picture behind me of Dana Point and then turn around to take a shot of Monarch and I am startled by this mass of muck on the surface of the water. This is not uncommon but it is disgusting. I really don’t know what it is. It’s like the ocean’s version of pond scum. I skirt around and in between masses and then take the picture once I am on the other side.
I swim in this lovely blue water that gets cool then warm and then cool again and then downright sultry. I stop and watch the waves before they are waves pass me by just in front of lifeguard tower zero below the ritz. I can hear the water lapping against the back of my neck. It’s the only thing I can hear right now. It sounds good.
I keep moving all the way to the Monarch Bay Beach Club. I see large swaying towers of kelp on the way. Some rise and stop just short of the surface and others float and sprawl out wide and are visible plainly from above. The haze over the water seems to be fluctuating. One moment it feels like we are losing our sun and the air grows misty all around and then all of a sudden I see that familiar bright orb above me and can feel the warmth pierce through the mist.
It’s time to turn around and I enjoy the view of the beach all the way back. I can feel the waves roll under me and then break another 50 feet away inshore. I see, and can certainly hear, the jr. lifeguards gathered in the water. This is the last day of the jr. guard camps here. I try not to think too much about it. I don’t want this season to pass. It feels like it just started. The fact is that it has. We still have the best part of the summer in front of us. Soon the morning marine layer will be a thing of the past and the days will grow more sunny and the water will likely be even warmer. September can be fantastic and August just started.
