What is Normal About Any of This?

I am overflowing with delight from this last swim. I have no words, but get ready because I am about to blabber on and on so I can put some text in between all of the amazing things that I saw.

So today was going to be just a normal ho hum swim. After yesterday’s adventure to Three Arch, I figured I would just get this last swim in before the next bout of rain arrives later today and keeps me out of the water for a few days. Also it seemed the forecast made it sound like there could be more swell. I figured I would do one of my routine Strands to Monarch Bay Beach Club and back swims.

I leave at about 8:30 and like yesterday it is cloudy but pleasant out. Light rain is forecasted to start sometime mid-morning so I want to get on this before everything goes downhill. Everything looks as I would expect on the way and in the parking lot. When I pass the lower bathrooms between the stairs and the final asphalt road to the sand, the water looks super clear and extremely calm. It looks at least as calm as yesterday. It is certainly the most calm I have seen all year and another swimmer I bump into says he has never seen it this calm.

I get to the shore and just as I proceed to walk north to my usual starting point, I stop myself. I think about that other swim I was thinking of doing yesterday when I was debating between Three Arch Bay or the headlands. Maybe I should do the headlands today. I have never swam ALL the way around to the little cove at the end or the harbor. I could totally do it today with these conditions. Who knows when the next time it could be this calm? Also it is New Years Eve - what better day of the year for such an adventure.

I just stand here for about a minute tossing this around in my head. I’m starting to make excuses - oh I didn’t bring my watch - how will I know how long I have been in the water? MATT! WHO CARES?! You will swim to that cove and back and can look at the timestamps on your photos to figure that out afterwards. You are in good shape and could swim for hours. This is the moment of opportunity. You have wanted to do this swim for a couple years.

Ok Ok. I’ll do it! I turn around 180 degrees to head to the south end of the beach. I figure I will start as close to the headlands as possible. I’m really not sure (but have a rough idea) how far it is to the cove on the other side. If I still have juice in me when I get back, I’ll keep swimming north as far as I deem necessary. I try to walk quickly in the interest of time but I’m not feeling particularly guilty about wasting work hours on New Year’s eve when just about everyone else took the day off. I pass a fisherman and ask him if he has caught anything. He responds with an emphatic “yes” and says he has gotten something on every cast - Perch.

At the south end I start to head into the water. It remains shallow for a while and I finally start swimming. Oof. A little cold but not too bad. I don’t think it is any colder than it has been this week. I see a sting ray racing across on the sandy bottom here which makes me think of that time in yesterday’s swim where I thought I might have seen one and I think now that I probably did.

The water here is so clear and the surface is so crazy calm. I swim past the rocks where I would usually turn around to swim back north and instead continue to hug the edge of the cliffs. It’s unusual, but there is zero swell here to push me into the rocks. This is just like a big pool. A super beautiful and interesting pool. Forget the bland, featureless, cement bottom of a normal pool. This place is filled with delightful things. Lots of rocks sticking up around me and rocks below the surface too. Usually that feels treacherous, but the water is so clear that I can see everything and easily navigate between obstacles. It’s super fun.

There are the caves carved into the cliffs that I can sometimes barely make out but today it’s like, “hey now that is a cave and I could literally swim right into it.” I won’t though. That would exceed my excitement threshold - at least without a buddy.

Speaking of buddies, there are pelicans and cormorants hanging out together on some of the larger rocks out here. I saw this at Three Arch yesterday and was crediting the idyllic vibe of that bay with creating a peaceful environment where these two species can coexist together. Well I guess this proves that Dana Point is just as idyllic. Take that Laguna Beach! Either that or this is just normal Pelican/Cormorant behavior. For now, I choose to believe the more enchantingly whimsical former hypothesis that I am in some kind of alternate Eden-like reality. I mean just have a look around and you tell me what is “normal” about any of this.

I get to the northwest corner of the headlands and pivot about 90 degrees to the south. I am starting to venture into uncharted territory. At least uncharted for me. This is where even on a normal low surf day there are still breaking waves that make it just a little too sketchy for me. Not today. It’s just a big gorgeous pool.

I just love this view. As you turn this corner you are suddenly seeing things that very few others ever see. You can’t see this from the beach and even if you are hiking at low tide from the ocean institute along the base of the cliffs, you don’t get this full perspective I have right now. If you are in a boat then you are likely further away. I am guessing a kayak would do it. So shout out to the Dana Outrigger crews. You all probably know what I am talking about. To the rest of you, enjoy these photos.

Basically what I am looking at here is largely unchanged by modern development. I know someone is going to prove me wrong and I ask you to please keep it to yourself while I roam in my little fantasy. Seriously, I see no building or man made structures from right here. I just see rugged, and I mean RUGGED, coastline right here. No McMansions here. I love the texture of these cliff faces. There are patterns and shadings that subtly change as the headlands extend from the Dana Strand to the harbor.

I keep swimming and come upon a reef or wall of rock that extends west about 100 feet from the base of the cliffs. There is a largeish rock at the western end of it and I wonder if there is a gap between the wall and that rock so I aim for that space. As I get closer, I have now crossed past the point of my farthest swim south from Strands. I stare at the headlands and follow the cliffs south to try and get an idea for how far I have to go before reaching the jetty. It looks kind of far. I question if I really want to do this. I am OUT here. But I’m fine. I feel good and conditions are benign. Of course with the ocean or any other large untamed chunk of nature, we are fine until we are very much NOT fine. I’ll just put that thought in a nice little box and set it to the side for now.

As I get closer to that rock and the gap I notice something moving and alive. Oh it is human! It’s a diver. I am not alone! Everything is fine. Someone else is here so certainly there is nothing to be worried about right? RIGHT?! I don’t hear any response as I sit here alone in front of my computer…but still…

The diver says hi and we exchange sentences about the terrific conditions. Then he lifts up his hand from below the water and he is holding a live lobster. A LIVE LOBSTER. Right here! This is so cool and I choose not to envision the fate of that lobster meeting water much much warmer than what we are in right now. I ask if I can take a picture. Your welcome.

On I go. The depth of the water here varies between 6 inches and about 8 feet. It’s like this from probably the base of the headlands out to 50 to 100 feet offshore and then it is suddenly just sand. I stick to the shallow and rockier edge because I can. I can see sand any day.

I keep swimming towards the harbor and I can now make out the little beach and even spot a small section of the Ocean Institute. It looks far. Am I really up for this? Should I just come back on a sunny day when the water is warmer? I seriously consider this and the answer is '“no.” I waited all summer this year and that day never came. Now is the time. Yeah, I’m a little cold. I choose not to wear a wetsuit so I can feel the wonder of the water against my skin. The ocean has something to say to us and I want to make sure there is nothing between me and the water so I can hear it. What is it telling me you ask? It is telling me that it is here right now and it is alive and it invites me to be here right now and be alive and breathe right alongside it.

Soon I get to a spot where it looks like the top of the headlands opened up and spilled its insides onto the cobble bottom. Oh this is that landslide I heard about a couple years ago and could not see. I see a house perched right above it. Yikes. Ok now I am starting to see signs of mankind. I know there is a road, Green Lantern, that extends past Cove Road and ends at the headlands trailhead. There is a small cluster of homes there and what I am seeing at the top of the cliff here must be those homes. There is not a lot here and it still feels somewhat untamed. That might change after they build that new hotel so I better get all the pictures I can now.

You just never know when something you have taken for granted as normal will suddenly completely change. I grew up in San Juan in the 70s and 80s and could run home from Dana Hills High School on pasture land trails. Golden Lantern stopped at what is City Hall today. I so wish I had more pictures of all that today. I really don’t have any. For all I know aliens will come tomorrow and introduce technology that eliminates the needs for grocery stores and drug stores and strip malls. Perhaps I should take more pictures of strip malls.

I keep going. That beach is getting closer. I am becoming more and more tempted to turn around. What am I doing here? I am for sure breaking the cardinal rule of open water swimming: do not swim alone. Yeah yeah, I break that rule on every swim but right here I wonder if it has even more merit. There is no beach. The water is cold (not “super cold”). All swells have a beginning. What if one begins now?

At this point I am so close I just have to keep going. I look and am sure I will be at that beach in no more than 15 minutes. I will kick myself if I don’t go all the way. Whenever I imagine this swim, I always imagine myself arriving on that beach. I often go to that beach by foot and have wondered what it would be like to round those cliffs and come to shore. I have to do this.

Finally it really is looking close. I just have a little further to go. Also it feels like the water temperature rises a degree. I have no idea if it really does or if that is just a sign of the early onset of hypothermia. I swim and I swim and I swim and the sand below me brushes my fingers and I put my feet on the ocean floor and I stand in thigh high water. Ok so I don’t actually walk to shore. I’m telling you that I am on the beach. I made it!

Thank God. I can turn back now. I have this suspicion that the return trip will go faster than I anticipate. What was unknown is now known. I dive back into a swimming position from my vertical stance and the water actually feels slightly warm as my body plunges below the surface.

I try, and I think I succeed, to follow my exact same route that I used to get here. I remain about 50 feet from the cobble beach and exposed tide pools and try to pin point where that rock was at the end of that reef. Because I always breathe on my right side and am not one of those skilled swimmers that can breathe on either side, the entire return trip I am facing the horizon. While it is beautiful and I do not tire of looking at it, it does not allow for easy navigation around these cliffs so I need to look up and in front of me often. Also my goggles tend to fog up often making it not only difficult to see the cliffs but also the rocks below me so I stop often to wipe them. It’s all good though.

I am getting close to that rock and reef and this is indeed going more quickly than my “worst case scenario” thoughts previously foretold. There are those same divers again in the same spot where I left them. These rocks provide lots of great exploration. One thing I realize as I swim here is that touching the rocks do not kill you. I have a tendency to think something along the lines of “OH MY GOD! Don’t touch the rocks! Stay clear of the rocks!” As if they are lined with creatures that will eat through your skin in the most painful way possible. I am here to now tell the world that this is not true. These rocks are lined with sea grass and moss. That said, you probably would not want to be between them and a 10 foot wave. No 10 foot waves today.

As I continue, I begin to spot familiar landmarks from the Dana Strand shoreline peeking through the little rocky islands that surround me here. I see that beautiful cliff face between the Ritz and the Salt Creek lifeguard tower zero. I see some of the estates on the beachfront. I am coming home (not to one of those estates).

I reach the northwest corner of the headlands again. If I had a favorite spot, I think this is it. I just love swimming in the midst of this tiny archipelago of stray rocks protruding high above the water. I love staring into the caves at the bottom of the cliffs and I think the safety of the beach nearby settles my nerves.

I see something floating on the surface of the water about 30 feet from me up close to one of these rocks. It looks like something alive. Something alive that breathes and not human. I remember the SUPer I spoke with on Monday who told me that he had seen a sea turtle by the jetty. Is that what I am looking at?! Could this be a sea turtle? If I could see one here then it just really doesn’t matter if I make it home. I will have reached the end of all that I need to see. I squint my eyes and try to make out what this is even though I am not wearing my glasses. Oh…wait…it looks like a sea lion or seal. Ok that is much more probable. Oh well. I guess I better make it home now.

I keep going and here I am at my usual turn around rock at the south end of the strand. I could swim to shore right here or I could keep going all the way back to the base of the road half way up the beach. Heck, there is no law that says I can’t go to Main Beach. Well…except the laws of physics I suppose and my physical limitations. I’m pooped. Still, I think I have it in me to make it to that little lifeguard station at the end of the wooden boardwalk. Yeah, I will swim there.