May Gray in March

We seem to be in a pattern where a morning marine layer burns off just before noon. I guess this means it’s Spring. Everything seems a little ahead of schedule this year: the warm weather and warm water as well as the morning “May gray” marine layer. No complaints about the water - that’s for sure. Buoys were reporting 67 degrees this morning.

I leave for the beach a little before 10:00. It’s still pretty gray out. I see a couple faint cracks in the clouds but it’s not exactly opening up yet. Then as I descend the last half mile of Selva Road, I can see this big golden glow shining on to the hills of Laguna Niguel. I can’t see it yet, but there must be blue sky somewhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if everything changes over the course of the swim.

My big internal debate right now is whether to swim north or south. I mostly try to switch things up every other swim. Yesterday I swam south so that means today would be north. However I am in a mood to just get this swim done. The south route is shorter. I argue with myself that the water will be nice and lets just enjoy the longer swim. I can’t decide. Then as I enter the parking lot, it occurs to me that if today follows yesterday’s pattern, it will be sunnier on the Salt Creek side of the beach. Well that settles it. I will swim north.

My nerves are feeling a little frazzled this morning. My mind has felt all over the place and focusing on too many things. I am hoping that this swim will help in this department. As I walk towards the stairs from my car, I am already starting to empty my mind and just focus on my breath. That’s all I need to do right now is breathe. Everything else is taken care of. Conditions are perfect here. I don’t have to worry about waves or cold water and now I have my route all sorted out. I just need to walk into the water and swim north to the Monarch Bay Beach Club and then turn around. I can do all that without any effort. So I turn on the autopilot and start to shut down my thoughts.

It’s pretty darn gray here on the beach but also pretty darn nice. The water looks beautiful and calm. The tide is low. There is something on the water but without my glasses they just look like specs. Are they dolphins or surfers or swimmers? A wave passes and one of these specs suddenly grows wings and flies up the beach a few yards. Pelicans!

I put my feet in the water and it’s not like a warm bath but it’s close enough. I know this is going to be good. I walk on out through the tiny surf and there is loose kelp thick in the shallows so that I have to raise my feet above this stuff to keep from getting stuck or tripping over it. Soon I lean forward and start my swim north. I’m starting to see sunlight from Monarch and shine down on the white lifeguard tower at the point below the Ritz.

As I get closer to that tower, I can see the rocks exposed by the low tide here at the main Salt Creek surf break. The waves are small enough that I keep inshore to get a good look at the rocks. Once I am within 50 feet of them, I veer west to swim around the breaking waves and then towards the Beach club.

I can feel the water moving around me. The current must be moving north as I feel assisted by a steady stream of wakes from behind me. The water is not exactly rough but it’s not smooth. It’s very active. It’s cool but feels good. I continue to let my breath settle my frazzled nerves. I am searching for a message. It’s a message I already know but can’t seem to remember. I try to let go of all ideas because I suspect the knowledge I am looking for is not in an idea. At least not one I can pin down with words. It’s a knowing that I just know. Nothing more. Something placed deep inside of me before I was born. Something placed in every one of us. I feel like the key to access it is faith. It is looking for trust. If I can just give it my trust, it will carry me forward. I don’t need to understand the physics of what is doing the carrying, I just need to give myself over to it entirely and know that if I do my part by offering up faith, it will stay close.

This all feels too much to understand but I just know it is so. I have to let go of the need to understand. Sure I could parse it apart a million ways with words and think I have it nailed until I realize I can parse it apart all over again with an entirely different set of words. The words float like mist and mutate back and forth between water and air. The words are constantly building themselves up like scaffolding around an aging structure and then they all break down again into stacked up lumber and piles of metal.

So I keep heading north. The sun and blue sky become more and more prevalent. The water continues to stir. I stop now and again and look behind me to this dark gray cloudy mass above Dana Point. I reach the Monarch Bay Beach Club. Actually I stop just a little bit short of it where the creek empties into the ocean. I turn around and head back. First I check out this stalk of kelp standing just a few feet away from me. I stare at its leaves and the line of egg like bulbs that create this sort of fractal spiraling design. It’s very pretty. I stare for a while and then move on.

I feel myself swimming into the current but I can see the rocks on the ocean floor moving past me so I know I am making forward progress. In fact it seems like I am back in front of the Salt Creek showers and snack area in no time. I am getting closer and closer to that cloud mass until I am on the other side of the point and finally swallowed up in gray. The water seems a little calmer here.

I am looking for birds but don’t see any. It’s time to swim back to shore. I soon feel my hands against the sandy bottom but I don’t want to stop swimming. The tide is low and it seems like there is still plenty of water between me and the dry sand. It’s just super shallow. Finally it’s past the point of ridiculous where I am practically just reclining directly on the sand. So I pop myself up and the water is below my knees.

Well that was nice. Somehow I feel a little bit closer to that indescribable thing that feels so familiar in my heart but often so far away. Whatever it is, I just need to keep leaning into it. I know what that means, but I don’t know what that means. It’s like every moment and every act and every interaction is another piece of the puzzle that reveals to me it’s shape. I type these words now and have no idea what I am trying to say. But I distinctly remember walking up that rough asphalt road from the sand to the stairs thinking and knowing that I just need to trust. That is all I need to do.