Like a Pelican

I left at about 8:45. Skies are completely overcast and the air is a bit misty out. I’m just glad there is no fog. My apartment complex has closed the gym for the rest of the week so I have no access to the elliptical machine - both a curse and a blessing.

As I drive down Selva Rd. things seem as grey as they could possibly be. I’m certainly not counting on any sunshine on this swim. It’s all good. I’m very happy to be living in this pleasant beach town and have the luxury of visiting the beach on this lovely Tuesday morning. The hills on the eastern side of PCH are shrouded in mist as I cross the highway and approach the parking lot. I stare west out toward the horizon and it’s soft and fuzzy and accompanied by a couple small boats checking on their lobster traps.

I walk on down the stairs and reach the beach. The water is coming all the way up to the concrete ramp. There is a narrow sliver of beach that remains along the north end below Niguel Shores. However it occasionally disappears beneath the incoming waves. The waves are not remarkably large by any means but they are breaking right on the shore. I’m suddenly very curious when is high tide and is it heading up or out right now? I’m usually privy to this information but lately I have become lazy since there has been so much sand and the tides have not been extreme. It just hasn’t mattered all that much. Well, it looks like it might just be starting to matter. The berm that was here has washed away along with god knows how much sand and it is starting to show. Oh well. It’ll be fine.

I walk into the water and given these conditions, there is no time to saunter on in. I have to be quick to not get pummeled by this somewhat treacherous shore break. I wait for a couple waves to pass and then walk and then jog and then dive in front of the next wave just as it is breaking. Once I am past this wave, that’s pretty much it. I have cleared the surf. I can see waves breaking a little further out over by the main surf break but not much further out.

I swim south today. Probably what stands out most so far in this swim is how nice the water feels. This morning is a little on the cool side but not much. It’s just not by any means warm out and there is a small northwest breeze which doesn’t help. Here is the water it is pretty darn nice. You’d never know it by how things look outside today but these waters are very benevolent and welcoming. I must say I’m glad to be here. I don’t know why, but this so often comes as a pleasant surprise. I know why it is pleasant but when will it ever stop being a surprise? Well it is a nice surprise. That’s for sure.

It is so peaceful out here and I feel like I am on a different planet than I was on just a few minutes ago. It’s like there is a crease in the space between the shore and this open ocean that provides about a light year’s shortcut. I look toward the shore and it all feels a million miles away. There is so much craziness going on out there but I can’t see it from right here. It’s like someone has placed a perfectly clear glass lid over the mainland that protects me from its chaos. It’s just me and the fish and the lobster fishers out here. I guess that means there are lobster here too.

I eventually reach the south end of the beach. I have to look hard for my turnaround rock. With the high tide, which is probably cresting just about now, there is not a lot of it exposed above the surface. I spot it and aim myself offshore to get well in front (or behind) it and then swim just to the other side of it into the middle of a big patch of sandy bottom. I linger here for just a bit and soak in the views. I can just barely see the lifeguard tower up at Salt Creek.

I swim north and pass lobster trap buoy after lobster trap buoy. I gradually drift westward. My thoughts seem empty and my feelings hollow. I sense a restlessness inside of me right in my center and I don’t know what this energy is asking of me. What am I doing here? Will I be able to pass onward into the next bay or am I caught in an eddy and destined to forever tread in this dead water. There are days like today where it just does not feel like anything is moving inside of me. I feel like I am in a dark cavern. It’s not a terrible place of suffering but it’s not exactly where I would prefer to be. I find myself reminded that this is just a feeling. Feelings, like thoughts, come and go. They are worth exploring and paying attention to but they remain just for a while and we move on to the next thought and feeling. Although it seems like this particular one has nothing to give to me, I think it is trying to teach me something - I don’t know what yet - and I need to listen. That’s all. Just listen.

The only thing I need to DO right now is to keep swimming. That is one thing I love about this experience because that is something I can absolutely do. If I just need to keep swimming, I am confident I can be successful with that. I’ll swim to the next thought, to the next feeling, to the neighboring bay and the cove just up ahead.

There is not much to see today below the surface. Visibility is pretty good but there just isn’t much light. If I stop and focus my eyes just so, I can see dozens of small translucent fish swimming just beneath the surface. That lifeguard tower gets closer and closer. I’m thinking about the swim to shore through those waves breaking on the sand. Has the tide risen? Is there any sand left? I just don’t let myself worry about this because one way or another, I will be swimming to shore and it’s going to be what it’s going to be.

At the very end of the swim a flock of pelicans come close and I manage to grab my camera in time - a happy bit of luck. I’m excited to catch a shot as they fly by close. They look so large and graceful and confident and purposeful as I meet their eyes. I think that I want to be like a pelican.