No Price of Admission

At last some sun. I do love the clouds, but I love the sun more. Sorry clouds. There is actually plenty of both today. A line of clouds dominates the lower edge of the horizon. There is a moment early in the morning where I wonder it it might be fog, but thankfully it is not.

Definitely mostly blue sky up above as I drive to the beach at about 8:45. Lots of cars near my usual spots. There is a white Mercedes that looks very dirty. I mean it’s probably “technically” cleaner than my car but it is white and it is a fairly newish looking Mercedes in good condition so the dirt makes it stand out in my memory.

It’s about 60 degrees outside and I feel comfortable as I get out of the car. The ocean looks quite lovely as I walk down the stairs. The surface is a little wobbly but relatively smooth. I am debating which direction to swim. Given the fact that I like to switch directions every other day, I’m due to head south today. However, I have a little extra time today and more than I will likely have on my next swim day and as I look out over the entire expance from south to north, north looks brightest. Yes. I will be swimming north.

Based on the buoy data, it looks like the water temperature is down about a degree from my last swim but still very much in the acceptable range of 64 degrees. I get to the sand and when I feel the wet sand, it feels particularly cold, but when the water covers my feet, it really does not feel bad.

I get to my usual starting spot and start to walk into the water. I just love these wispy clouds over the water. The sky does not look quite so blue here as it did a mile inland. Still, it is by no means overcast but covered in a mix of blue sky, hazy sky, and wispy white vapor. These thin vaporous clouds form a symbiotic relationship with the sun that shines and illuminates them.

One very memorial event that occurs as I am walking towards and through the very small surf, is a bird that is floating on the surface. I have been seeing these birds the last few months but do not know their name. They have a body similar to a cormorant with a long neck but they are smaller and have some color on them - not so entirely dark. I have observed that they like to float on the water and periodically dive below (for fish I assume) and often resurface somewhere else about 20 feet away. I have been close to them when they do this but have never been able to spot them underwater.

So this one is floating out here in the surf. A wave passes under it and it dives below and I can perfectly see it swimming under the surface as I watch through the face of the wave. Super fun and cool to see, and there was no price of admission. Oh yeah, the ridiculous amount of rent I pay to live here. Well worth every penny in my opinion.

I soon start swimming north. The water is cool but it doesn’t take long to realize it may be a touch cooler than my last swim on Tuesday but still comfortable. It’s a very welcome realization. Water visibility isn’t quite what it was on Tuesday but still pretty good. Overall it’s just a really nice vibe here on the water. Well, it usually is but today feels special. Well, they always do. I don’t know what I’m trying to get across here, but I sure was enjoying the water.

There is a sweetness to what I am looking at beneath me. A timeless beauty that is always here - always. I can take comfort in the fact that I might be elsewhere and in the midst of struggle but this is always here - always. It will still be here when I go to bed tonight and when I wake up tomorrow and the next day and the next and so on and so forth.

I am thinking of so many things in my mind and yet not thinking of anything at all. All I hear is music. There are these chords I have been playing the last couple days on the piano and this runs in my head over the entire swim and I love it. There is a haunting quality to it. It reminds me of something that I cannot quite remember but feels so real. I remember enough to know that I want to get back to it.

I see all the usual things that I expect to see as I head towards the Monarch Bay Beach Club. I see the surfers in front of the point below the Ritz. I see a pelican zooming by just inshore of a curling wave. I see the end of Monarch point. It’s tip is rhythmically covered and uncovered with the passing of wake after wake of pre-breaking waves. I can see just to the left of that point, a mass of haze that looks like an explosion of light shooting out fingers of vapor in the direction of that same point. Once I am nearly at the northern end of the swim, I see something reflecting the light beneath me. It’s a single solitary vine of kelp that is clear yet obscured enough to look slightly magical. Then I look just beyond it and see that it is not so solitary.

Thoughts come and go. I go over and over and over a conversation with my oldest son yesterday that did not end well and it makes me sad and confused and frustrated. I try to understand how it was that we both arrived at that conversation after 20 years. I remember first holding him as a baby and I thought he was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen as he looked right back at me. I’m thinking of other relationships - some are evolving and some are breaking apart like a falling star nearing its end. I wonder how can I make better choices in this second half of my life to avoid the mistakes I made in the first half. I feel optimistic but know that I need to pay close attention.

I stop now and then and it looks like the south end of Strands is getting darker and hazier. Still, all looks bright enough. I stare into the white of the sandy bottom and it feels good.

When I get back to the point in front of the lifeguard tower, I stop to have a look around. This is a frequent vista point for me. As I look, I see a small fish flop out of the water and then back. I put my goggles back on and peer just below the water. There is a school of medium sized silverish fish right in front of me just a couple feet away. Funny because I was just thinking to myself how I have not seen many fish at all today. Well I have now. They look great in the mostly clear water.

I swim back to where I started. It’s all great. The water continues to feel great and just keeps getting better. Regardless of the encroaching haze to the south, it feels bright and summery right here. I rise to my feet as I reach the shore and slough off the water like at old layer of skin that will be dearly missed.