Tall Ship

I’m out of the apartment a little after 10:00. Another cloudy morning but as I drive down Selva Road, I notice that the dimmer switch seems like it is dialed up pretty high. I think maybe, just possibly, this could actually burn off today. At least for a little bit. The sun never really did come all the way out yesterday. I’m looking out on the open ocean and things look brightish. I can see Catalina Island out there due west and it looks so big and so close.

I park and head down the stairs. I don’t really feel like being here right now. I have a lot of work to get done today. I know that I will feel better about all of this once I am in the water. I also know that if I don’t do this, I’ll be unhinged all day long. I’m walking down these stairs in faith of that which I cannot see or feel. It really doesn’t take a whole lot of faith since pretty much every swim ends in an elated mood, and there have been a lot of swims.

The water temperature on the lifeguard station is up a degree - 66. Up is good. The surf looks a little bigger today even though the surf report said it was smaller. That’s how it goes. The surf reports can only serve as a sort of reference companion. We live with this big unpredictable dynamic body of water that does what it does when it does it.

I can tell from the feel of the water on my feet that the lifeguard tower is correct. It’s not exactly like stepping into a hot tub but it has that gentle coolness that I know will translate to comfy once I get moving through the water. So let’s get moving! As I walk out, I spot what I think may be The Spirit of Dana Point sailing north just around the point to the south. It’s one of those old school 1800’s tall wooden ships. It looks really cool with all of its sails up. It is not super far out and I wonder how close I will be when we cross paths.

I dive into the face of an oncoming wave and keep heading west for a bit and then veer south towards the tall ship. The water does feel good. There is a 6 knot south wind blowing that is supposed to grow over the next couple hours so the ride is pretty bumpy and that’s ok. I get to the south end of the beach. Along the way I am tracking the tall ship and it does not appear to be moving any further north. It’s either just hanging out at the point or maybe it is turning back. By the time I reach the southern cove, it’s gone. I do see a small group of jr. lifeguards scrambling on the rocks below the headlands. I’m sure the instructors know what they are doing.

I head back north with the current behind me now and the water seems to get more and more comfortable the farther I go. I have these worrisome thoughts on my mind. I know they are all lies. I know that good things lie in front of me. My brain just seems to serve as a container for the fears that haunt me and I try to let it just be that - a holding place. It’s fine to hold space for the fear but I don’t want to fall into the void of their power.

I try to place my attention on the good things and the goodness of what is around me right now. There is a lot of goodness around me right now. That is for sure. The cloud cover is breaking up and the sun and blue sky are spreading out. I feel that light down to my core. I feel the water all around my skin moving right up alongside of me. I feel the kelp catch my fingers and feet. I’ve drifted pretty far offshore and the water looks so deep. I really have no idea how deep. The funny thing is that I know it might really not be all that deep at all.

I’m nearing the northern end of the beach and I’m looking towards shore for the buoys. I can’t find any of them. Then I see one not too far offshore of where I am. Could that be the Death Star buoy? Am I that far out? It’s close enough that I figure I might as well swim out and pay it a visit. Yep! Sure enough, it is the Death Star. I swim around it and look at what looks like a tiny bathroom at the north end of the beach. I’m just about to resume the swim when I see a large flock of Pelicans coming from the south. It looks as if they have made the Death Star some kind of a turning point. Just above it they come a little closer to the water and then seem to pivot northwest. The furthest few birds in the group stray outside the main V formation as if to scout for fish inshore.

I swim toward the lifeguard tower below the ritz. I just want to get a little further north to the other side of those bathrooms. I’m swimming more east than north and soon I reach the larger group of buoys that hang out closer to shore. I change direction and aim toward the lifeguard station at the base of the asphalt road. The sun has come out in full force and it is so great to be here. I’m tempted to slow down my stride so I can remain out here even longer. I’d love to stay all day. However I’m pretty sure I have already been out a good while and should wrap this up.

Just before reaching shore, a set of waves appear and I hover around right where they break. I let them push me closer to the dry sand and by the time they all pass, I’m pretty much there. I stand up, walk to the road leading up to the stairs and soak in the sun all the way up to the top.