Warmer in the Water

Fall is definitely here. It’s down to the 50s when I wake up. Come back Summer! Come back! It’s ok. I must try to still myself. It’s all part of the natural cycle. The skies are clear this morning. I do have that to be thankful for even though it is also probably a contributing factor to the cold. I leave at about 7:00. The morning here in Dana Point is beautiful.

I get to the parking lot and I can see the light of the rising sun emerging from the hill that sits on the other side of Pacific Coast Highway just this side of the Lantern District. I’m hoping I am in the water by the time it rises over the bluff. I get out of my car and into the cool air. I see walkers about in their sweaters and sweat pants. Here I am in just my swim trunks. This is one of those Fall mornings where I know it will be warmer in the water than out here. It’s still supposed to be about 66. Let’s get to the beach!

I walk down the stairs and watch the swell rolling over the surface as an offshore south breeze adds texture and bump. Other than the cold it is pretty idyllic here. And let’s be honest, it is really not that cold. It’s just not warm. No. It is definitely not warm.

That berm in the sand here gets smaller and smaller every day. The waves break near the shore and their white water travels east bumping into the base of the berm where it crumbles as the water recedes back to open water. The dry sand feels cold and the water feels about the same as it has for the last week.

I get to my spot where I start my swims and find my self taking pictures to delay the inevitable. I mean it is beautiful here. That is for sure, but let’s get this started.

I walk on in and soon a wave breaks right in front of me and I dive into the water just in front of it and feel the crashing lip push me down to the floor. I start swimming to meet the next wave and the next and then as I pass that invisible line where waves no longer break, it feels like the water temperature rises a degree or two. Oh yeah…this is what I needed. This is the stuff. It really is warmer right here than on the shore.

I swim south today towards the headlands and the rising sun. The sun still has not crested the bluff but it’s going to any second now I can tell. I swim a good ways down and then it feels like something has shifted in the light and I stop to look around. Everything is beautiful. I see slopes of water moving in different directions and angles and varying steepness. They are all finely textured with ripples created from this breeze.

A little ways further and a pelican flies into my field of vision and I quickly roll over and simultaneously grab my camera to try and get a shot of him. I’m not sure how successful I am. Often what looks like will be a terrific capture ends up being a tiny spec of a bird in the image that gets overly distorted and loses all detail if I zoom in too close.

I reach the south end of the beach and I’m in the shade of the Dana Point headlands above the cliffs here. I can see tones of orange and pink along the edge of the horizon. The hills above Laguna are catching the residual glow of the sun’s rays which has just risen into full view. I can see the light reflecting off the rows of homes that sit over and beyond Monarch.

I swim back up north and soon emerge from the shade and as I stare at the sun from the protection of the underside of the water’s surface, it’s so bright and the top shines like glass. Not too much to see but cloudy water underneath until I am further up the beach and reach the kelp forests with their swaying vines and leaves still distorted by the obfuscated water and who knows where the bottom lies today.

My thoughts wander from one dream to another - from this yearning to that aversion. When I feel them grow tense, I try to relax them and correct their perspective. I know that all is well. Out here in the water it is easy to see how all is as it should be. Things are terrible and wonderful.

We all struggle to grow. We become distracted by our delusions and hopefully we can course correct sooner than later toward a north star that is always there. I wander offshore and drift to open ocean. Then I look up toward lifeguard tower zero between Strands and Salt Creek and right my trajectory.

My path is speckled with lobster trap buoys all along the coast about 50 to 100 feet past the surf. They are all laid out in different colors: red and yellow, green and grey. I love these things. I don’t know why. There doesn’t seem to be anything necessarily beautiful about these buoys. Yet I do find they add charm to my surroundings here. They certainly add color and a bit of maritime flair.

The water really does feel quite good. I eventually reach my northern turnaround point just before Salt Creek. It sounds like there is a surf competition taking place there right now. I see tents on the shore and hear voices on a loud speaker but I can’t quite make out what is being said. The waves aren’t bad today. Not a whole lot of size but the offshore wind holds up the faces of the waves and gives them some very nice shape.

Soon my swim is done and I feel exhilarated and satisfied. I head back up the stairs and somehow do not feel as cold as I did on the way down. It’s like the thin liquid layer of wet over my skin insulates it from any chill. Oh come on it must be at least 60 degrees by now. What chill are we talking about here? Did I learn nothing from my years of running in the snow?