No Good Reason

I left a little after 8:30 and it’s another overcast morning, which is what I have come to expect these days. I’m trying to put my longing for sun on hold for another few weeks in an attempt to ward off disappointment. The fact that the water is warm certainly helps.

I park and approach the stairs and the beach shuttle driver asks me about my ankle band. I tell him that it is a shark deterrent and we discuss sharks in the local waters. He is also a surfer and seems generally unbothered by the fact that we coexist with these amazing animals.

It’s rush hour traffic heading down the stairs with the jr. lifeguards on their way to start their day. I trail behind a group of three boys that look around 11 or 12 and are discussing who would win in a fight between an Orca and two Great White Sharks. I find myself captivated and amused by their banter. One makes things more interesting by asking what if it was three Great Whites? He clarifies that of course this would never happen. Well thank goodness for that!

I reach the beach and things are beautiful. No surprises there. There is a small flock of Pelicans hovering over the water just parallel to where I am walking. When I get to my usual spot, I head out into the water. I choose this spot because it has the least amount of rocks at low tide but in the Summer, that usually isn’t such a problem closer to where the road meets the sand. However, I just feel compelled to always start here even if I have no good reason. Come to think of it, I feel compelled to do a number of things for no good reason.

I head north today for some variety. The water is the same pleasant temperature it has been all week. It’s just a little cool getting in but I warm up quickly. I find myself swimming relatively close to shore today probably because of the lack of surf. This takes me by the inshore jr. guard buoys that I have not yet seen. I first reach “Baby Bertha.” Perhaps the offspring of “Big Bertha.” I’m not sure I want to know how buoys procreate.

The water is pretty cloudy here but still not nearly as cloudy as Capo Beach. I can at least see my hands and arms clearly. Out of the side of my eye I see something rise out of the water. I stop and see nothing. Hmm. I could have sworn it was something dark but it didn’t look like a dolphin fin. I pause and look around and underneath me as well and see nothing. Then something rises up just offshore of me. What is that? Soon I realize it is a free diver in a camouflage designed wetsuit. I laugh and the diver either does not notice me or just chooses to ignore me. Before long, he is under again.

I keep moving and cross over the small point here. I notice that the clouds look like they are possibly pulling apart from one another. Is it possible things could burn off within the hour? This gets me excited because of course it is possible.

I’m making my way north and the water feels so good. I am reciting a mantra of “trust and allow.” I’ve been feeling like that is my recipe for making my way in the world. Part of me wants to “push and force,” but that doesn’t seem to work very well for me. I have certainly tried. I sense there is something leading me through life and presenting me with situations and feelings intended to steer me in a certain direction. This all requires effort and cooperation on my part. I can’t just sit idle and expect everything to take care of itself. There is a delicate dance that needs to take place here and it is definitely more art than science. I’m trying to figure out how this all works. How do I engage and direct my effort? I sense that it is not out of desperation but inspiration. Sometimes it is hard to know the difference.

I hear something loud and assume a boat must be close by. I stop and look around and it is a helicopter flying low over the beach near the northernmost Salt Creek restrooms. It even sets off its siren just for a couple seconds. It swoops close to these tents and then rises back up and proceeds north past Monarch. I wonder what that was all about. I have no idea.

I am definitely seeing some wide patches of blue sky to the south and east. This all looks extremely promising. I honestly had no expectation of things clearing up during the swim. I continue to make my way towards the Monarch Bay Beach Club. I think I’m gonna go all the way today instead of turning around short. I can begin to feel the palpable presence of the sun. Oh this is so good. Is the water getting warmer? It feels like it is. Maybe it is just me.

By the time I turn around it is a bonafide sunny morning. I am absolutely elated. I can feel the freedom from those confining clouds. All is well right here and right now. After turning around to head back south, I face the shore and I can feel it reflecting the light right back into my heart. As I raise my arm to begin each stroke, the sun notices my receptive hand and sends its energy right through the length of my arm and into my core. I am filled with gratitude.

I am swimming close to shore still and perhaps the closest to shore I have ever been on this part of the beach. I admire the rocks on the cliffs beneath the Ritz and watch the waves breaking up ahead at the main surf break. This is turning out to be quite a fabulous morning.

I swim past the point and into Strands Beach. I watch the houses at the top of the bluff and they are surrounded by blue sky and sunlight. I go ahead and swim right past my starting spot and just keep heading toward the asphalt road that leads to the stairs and parking lot. I want to maximize my time in the water to the full extent possible.

Soon here I am. I can feel my hand touch the sandy bottom. A small wave rises up just behind me and I use its energy to get me to my feet. I am refreshed and exhilarated.