Sunrise

This is the earliest I have swam in months. Lately I have not been swimming on Saturdays because I pick up my son a little after 8:00 and there is just too little daylight to get in a swim, get back to my apartment, clean up, and pick up my son. However I think I can do it today. The days are getting longer. If I can leave here at about 6:00, then it should be plenty light by the time I hit the water and I should be able to make it to my son in time.

Also, the water has been comfortable enough that I don’t have to worry about being in a semi-hypothermic state when I get my son. Today is forecasted to be clear so I am imagining this nice warmish swim as I watch the sun rise over the bluff. What’s not to like about that?

At about 6:00, it is still mostly dark out but there is a hint of dawn on the eastern horizon as I look out my window. I am watching the web cams and there is really not much I can see except I think I might be seeing low vaporous clouds. Is that fog or am I just making all this up? I could totally be making it all up. I am fully capable and actually quite adept at making things up. It’s just not light enough to tell. Well I don’t have time to wait this out. I’m just going to head to the beach and get this all started and see what happens.

It’s definitely cooler out than it has been on any recent swim. It’s probably about 57 which is still not terrible especially when I know the temperature is forecasted to rise over the next couple hours. It’s dark enough that I need to turn on my headlights. Yes, my car is old enough (2005) where I actually have to turn on the headlights myself. I like it this way.

So I walk from my car to the stairs and to the beach. In my memory, everything looks totally dark but I know I was thinking to myself at the time that there was plenty light out to swim. There is another guy coming down the stairs with his super adorable dog that looks very excited to be out and about. They look like they are headed to play ball on the beach, which isn’t legal but they don’t look like they care. I certainly don’t.

I can see a fullish moon not far above the water directly to the west. It is shining down on the water. The sky is this rich multi-color blue and orange and everything in between. Two other dogs come happily running up to me just as I am about to enter the water. They look exactly like the dog I saw up on the stairs. This seems very coincidental but I have no reason to believe they are at all related. Is this the hour when everyone brings their dogs to run around on the beach?

It feels like I have every right to believe that what I am about to do is crazy or will at least be terribly unpleasant. However, the water does not feel bad at all. What I see with my eyes and what I feel on my skin don’t seem to belong together, but when I dive into the water, it feels like I have pulled a warm blanket up over my head. That might be a bit of an exaggeration, but it feels nice.

Below the surface, the water looks dark. I still don’t see any sign of the sun. I know the sun rises a little before 6:30 and I figure it is about that time right now. I guess considering the sun rises from the east, it must take some time for it to reach the top of the bluff. I don’t think google weather keeps track of when that happens.

I am swimming south. Everything looks and feels perfect. I keep watching the top of the bluff for signs of sun and see nothing. I want to make sure I don’t miss anything. Looking forward to the point at the south end of the beach. I can see browns and oranges and greys and blues. It feels like everything that has ever happened has been waiting for this morning to happen. I am witnessing the culmination of eons of light and clouds and water and beach working together to bring about these next several moments.

I am looking around and marveling at everything I see and I am feeling comfortable and I am feeling very grateful to be feeling so comfortable and then a turn flies from out of nowhere right for me. It is flying quickly west to east. I miss the shot (with my camera) which disappoints me.

Then just as suddenly a pelican comes at me from south to north but it is cruising just below the lip of a wave and it nearly disappears as it flies just a few feet inshore of me. These are all miracles occurring around me that refuse to be captured by photograph. Well I can still see it all right now in the mind’s eye of my memory.

I reach the south end of the beach and while everything looks clear enough, I do indeed see fog near the horizon and to the north. I see this layer of low clouds floating just in front of the hills far south in Laguna. I feel confident this will not be an issue during the swim but would not be surprised if things fog over later this morning.

I turn around and swim north. About 5 to 10 minutes up the beach, I begin to see the edge of a ball of intense yellow light spilling over the top of the bluff. It’s starting.

Right now it’s just a warm glow out of the corner of my eye. Then after another 5 or 10 minutes, It is so intense that I cannot look directly at it. I lower my head below the water and look directly into the sun’s direction. The water protects my eyes and takes the brunt of the light’s power and diffuses it into hundreds of soft rays that travel towards the ocean floor and end just before they reach the bottom.

I swim and I swim and I swim with music from the piano I was playing just before leaving my apartment. It’s the same chord progression I have been playing with for a week or so now. It takes me to this other place that I find so mysterious and delightful and familiar and so far far away but also right here. I just let the music play on its own in my head. I’m not sure how but I feel like this is some kind of esoteric piano practicing technique I can exercise right here in the water without even touching the keys. I may be exercising the same neurons here that will need to fire when my hands are on the keyboard. I have no idea what I am saying here, but it feels right.

I reach the north end of the beach and then head back to where I started. I feel like I just saw something so special. I wonder if others realized how accessible this experience is, if there would be a hundred swimmers here every sunrise.

People assume this is crazy or so scary and I guess it can be scary. There are times when I am scared. I still get in the water but most days, like this one, it’s not so scary and far more comfortable than others imagine. It’s more that the sight of the beautiful sunrise, which is plenty, but the feel of the water and breathing in this salty morning air that fills one from head to toe with a goodness that is difficult to describe.

All I did was drive here and get into the water. I’m wearing simple trunks and swim goggles. I just showed up is all. Then this miracle transpired before me. It’s the same miracle that takes place every single day but plays itself out as if it had never transpired before.

After finishing I return home and am delighted to get to my son in time and we participate in Dana Point’s annual easter egg hunt at Pines Park. He loves this and a little after 10:00, here comes that fog covering the ocean and hiding the harbor. This doesn’t last long though and it is still delightfully sunny up at Pines Park.