The Water Wants To Be Clear

It’s a little after 7:30 in the morning on this Sunday. Skies are completely overcast. Earlier as I was walking my dog, every once in a while I would briefly forget the clouds and it seemed as though I could see some glimmer of sunlight. Then I would realize the clouds above but upon closer inspection, I could see faint hints of blue teasing my eyes in between the creases. I know there is blue sky out there somewhere.

As I drive to the beach, I continue to see these glimmers of blue but very much doubt I will see more than a glimmer during my swim. The overcast did not clear until about noon yesterday and I’d be surprised if today will be much different. Nevertheless it is nice and I don’t feel I have anything to complain about. I see this vast ocean in front of me and the end of Monarch point and the headlands behind me - definitely nothing to complain about.

I walk down the stairs to the beach. The air is cool but not painfully so. It’s all good here. The Sunday morning swim crew is on their way back up as I pass the lower bathrooms. We say hello and they tell me the water wants to be clear today. I believe that it always wants to be clear. It’s just hard. Clarity is difficult. We all want it. There are brief moments when we actually have it, and then it is gone, and we try try try to find it again.

The shore is beautiful. A curlew flies in front of me as I reach the sand. I try to take a picture but my new camera housing doesn’t fully click. That’s ok. I’m here nearly every day. There will be lots of curlews to come.

There are some decent waves coming in. Nothing particularly large but they are large enough and have good shape and the water is smooth and clean. The tide is medium low and there is lots of sand here. Somehow the water feels just a touch warmer on my feet than Thursday when I last swam. I walk on in in between the sets of waves and I start swimming once I am about belly deep. Yeah it’s not bad. I’d say it is definitely a degree warmer than Thursday but that’s about it. Warm enough. I’m not exactly cozy but not uncomfortable. It’s all so nice.

I swim south and try to open up my insides to the feeling of the water. I let it pass through me. I let it wash over my heart and my mind. I am hoping it will clear away the muck and debris that is caught in all of my crevices and creases and gathers in the seams and between my sinews. I at least hope it makes a dent because it’s just a mess in here.

I swim all the way to the headlands without stopping. I swim past the half a dozen surfers out who stare unflinchingly offshore for that wave they hope will transform the morning and carry them through until the next one. I can feel them roll under me. The seasons truly are changing now because the swells are starting to come from the northwest now - a true sign that we are entering into the later phases of Fall and settling in for the winter.

At the south end I pause and take some pictures and grow annoyed with my new housing as drops of water gather on the lense cover. I rub them off with my finger and then they regather soon afterwards. I’m hoping this is just because it is new and eventually the glass will remain clear. I have no idea how this works and what chemical nuances are involved. I don’t really care to know. I just want it to work.

I head north and seem to be swimming against the current now which really is not very strong at all. Oh it is so good to be here. I stare into the horizon. I let my attention be drawn to the lobster buoys that are scattered just offshore of where I swim. The water is cool and I try to enter into the coolness. Let it penetrate and purify me. Take away all of the impurities. Set right my intentions. Make my paths straight.

I look up every few minutes and gaze at the lifeguard tower ahead. Many times I find it isn’t there because I’m heading toward shore. So I right my trajectory to head again to the north. I do this over and over and eventually get closer and closer to where it is I am wanting to go.

I stop once I am well past the asphalt road and I see these buoys in shore of me that look different from any of the lobster buoys I have seen. They are larger and longer. I also see something grey and leathery close by. What is that? Is it a dolphin? A Seal? I hear breathing. Then all of the sudden I see something rise up from this leathery lump into the air above the surface. At first I think it is a dolphin fin. Oh how magical! Oh, no it is a man made fin. Two actually. These are divers in wetsuits. I laugh as one does when they realize they are the but of a joke and I move on.

I soon reach my northern destination. I linger here for a bit and I watch the waves at the most popular surf break in the area here just in front of the lifeguard tower. There are some good sets rolling in and they seem to be breaking further out than they have been lately. I have watched thousands of these waves over the years and it never gets old. I can easily watch a million more. They rise from nothing and then curl and break until their foamy remains reach the shore and then the water washes back and it all begins again.

I head back to finish the swim. These grey skies and overcast horizons are a balm over the scratches and scar tissue that has grown around me. Everything here feels as it should. I stop just before the final swim to shore and I see another swimmer. Like me, he is not wearing a wetsuit which is rare to see now. He is swimming some kind of self fashioned back stroke. He sees me and asks if I am another human. I assure him that I am. We chat for a little bit and then go our separate ways. I finally reach the shore.

I head up towards the stairs and surfers are walking down. One has a cap and another has booties. Oh come on. It’s not winter yet. That’s ok. Whatever you need to be comfortable here. I choose the minimalist route and sometimes I question my choices. We are all doing whatever it is we feel we need to do just to get in the water and be here in this wonderful place.