Molten

Another very special morning in Dana Point. I left just a little after 9:15 and the day is exquisite. Outside temperature is nearing 60 degrees and it is a lovely blue sky and smooth ocean surface. I was a little disappointed to see that the water temps on the buoys hadn’t risen at all since yesterday. The 54s are still 54 and Oceanside slipped back to 55. Not a huge deal. I managed well yesterday and this just gives me more opportunity to adapt.

Today feels like a near snapshot of yesterday which is great because yesterday was fabulous. Lots of cars in the parking lot this Saturday morning. I’d be concerned for humanity if there weren’t. It’s time for everyone to stop what they are doing and get themselves to the beach.

The walk down the stairs is peaceful and when I get a look at the beach, it is low tide and stunning. What is it about low tide that is so wonderful. All of the mysteries of the shallows are exposed for all to explore. Not to mention that there is sand and sand and sand that somehow settles my center. I can see small, shallow pools here and there that have formed in the multiple divets of the sandy floor.

Boy this water feels cold on the feet. I know I can do this. I did it yesterday and the day before that and countless other times. We are conditioned to fear the cold. I get it. That limbic brain remembers that if you get stranded outside in the snow overnight, you may not see the next day. Well here I am on a beach in 60 degree weather. So my modern prefrontal cortex knows that the cold may just have some goodies to offer me. I find my inner caveman and executive thinker fighting with one another. So immature.

I walk out into the water. There is even less surf than yesterday, but it is oh so beautiful. The small waves break like glass. Their dark and transparent faces reflect the light of the sun and they appear molten. The water is super clear right here. I’m now past the surf and I guess it’s time to start swimming. I lean forward and here we go.

I really try to focus on what I am feeling in these initial moments. The energy explosions seem most pronounced in my forearms today and my throat which has been so affected on the last couple swims seems unplussed today. I don’t get the attack of fatigue today. The water does not seem warmer. In fact, I think it is a touch colder than yesterday. However somehow the body adapts. I really do find this fascinating.

There is something about swimming in the ocean multiple days a week that is different from any other sport I have immersed myself in. Every day is different not only on the outside but on the inside too. Of course all of us are participants in this dynamic system of nature all around us every day but being here throughout the entire year really collapses ones interaction with the natural cycles down to a fine point that is easier to observe and study.

I swim south and the explosive sensation in my forearms fade. Now I can feel the cold in my head and the back of my neck. In a few more minutes that subsides as well. I reach stasis. I swim through an icy patch. I feel and know that it is cold but it is all good. I lean into the cold. What else can I do? I have to make friends with it. And you know what? It’s not mean after all. It’s gotten a bad wrap.

Now I am coming up on the middle section of the beach that is well forested with kelp. I see the sun catch a leaf of seaweed at just the perfect angle and it looks like this entire plant is lit from the inside. I stop to take a picture but I just cannot duplicate what I saw seconds before but I take a couple shots anyways in the hope that something new will reveal itself. I look up from the water and a Cormorant is performing a sputtering take off. I love those birds.

I approach the southern end of the beach and I am super close to the surfers because the waves are breaking so far out due to the shallow water out here. I comment to one of the surfers how crazy shallow it has been here and he agrees and says how nice it is and there is definitely no need to argue with that. It is so nice.

I get to my turnaround point and again, like yesterday, stand in shoulder high water. This is so weird. It is usually 10 feet deep out here. The rocks to my south at the base of the cliffs are super exposed and show themselves like I don’t think I have ever seen before. After I swim back north a ways, I scold myself for not swimming closer and getting some better pics. Oh well.

I’m definitely feeling the cold today - more so than yesterday, but I think I have enough of what I need to make it all the way to the north end of the beach. I feel fluctuations in temperature but the warmer spots are not as warm and large as they were yesterday. My mind wanders and I dream. I dream of a blue horizon that never ever goes away and there is water everywhere. It’d a good dream. The water below me looks clear but effervescent like I am swimming in San Pellegrino water. I swim over islands of kelp and desserts of sandy floor.

Those bathrooms at the north end of the beach get closer, then closer, and then here they are. I stop before turning and see a flock of birds heading my way. They are tiny and far and get closer and closer and closer. I wait for them. I am excited with my finger on my camera. They are Pelicans and I can’t wait for them to get right up close.

I try to wipe out the insides of my goggles but my fingers just can’t seem to get it together enough to figure out what it is my brain wants them to do. They are like lifeless stumps rubbing against the outside rubber of the goggles and can’t quite reach the lenses. Oh whatever. I’ll just swim with foggy goggles.

Now for the remainder of the swim I watch the bluff at the end of the beach. I see shapes that look like they might be houses at the top. Fortunately I have inside information and know that they are in fact houses. Well I don’t know. Do you call these “houses?” Maybe “estates” is the more appropriate term.

I make it to the end and swim to shore until I can feel my fingers swipe against the bottom and then I stand myself up in knee deep water. I still feel like I am a good ways out but enjoy this walk to dry sand. Oh that was good. Everything about this day just got a whole lot better.