Where’s the Beach?

Guess how long it took me to drive to the beach this morning. No really. Go ahead and guess! No guesses? Well let me tell you then: zero minutes. That’s right. It took me zero minutes to drive to the beach. Yesterday I moved TO the beach. I live here now. That’s right! I am home. Southern California dream achievement unlocked!

I have really been looking forward to this and then the first night here, I was a bit of a stress ball. I was very much in the middle of the move so I blame that. This place has no air conditioning and so everyone keeps all of their windows open and you can hear everyone. I’m wondering if I am doing the right thing leaving a place that I definitely liked. I’m wondering if this is going to be a disaster with a VERY loud 5 year old son visiting a few days week. Also, my dog is anxious too and barking in the wee hours of the morning and I wonder if she is disturbing anyone.

Then things started to settle down a bit last night. I had unpacked all the living room and kitchen and put up my pictures and arranged my floor lamps. After that I felt a little less like I was camping out in a commune of strangers. I realized that the noise carried much more outdoors than indoors in the adjoining units. I bought a portable AC unit (costly but highly rated). Then when I took my dog for her final walk of the night and here I am at the freaking beach, I feel even better.

So this morning I wake up and it is cloudy but I can see some sun coming in between the cracks in the clouds. I take my dog for a walk and again, there is the beach. RIGHT HERE. It’s not just blue water way off in the distance. I feel like I am home.

The run of south swell has finally found a lull and I’m determined to get in the water. The Capistrano buoy reads 76. That sounds totally amazing. My unit is across from the south end of the parking lot. I usually park and head down the stairs at the north end. I have a 9:00 breakfast meeting down the street and I figure I would still need to drive (probably 2 minutes) if I want to enter from my usual spot and make my meting. OR I could walk down the trail at the south end of the beach. I really want to have the experience of walking to the beach from my own home so that’s what I do.

There is something just delightful about all of this. Everything is so beautiful. That big expanse of water out there extends out to forever and this is my home. Then when I get to the “beach” things get interesting. There is no beach. At least there is no sand. I’m not really surprised. We have just had nearly two weeks of nonstop pumping surf. Just a couple days can take a toll on sand levels. So the south half of the beach has literally 0 sand. It’s going to be a scramble over some slippery rocks just to get to knee deep water. Fortunately the surf is super small and the water is super warm. Yeah it’s awkward but relatively comfortable.

As I am clumsily making my way over these rocks, I just can’t help but notice how crazy warm this water feels. Finally it seems deep enough where I can settle myself horizontally over the surface and start to move myself over these rocks just inches below me. I swim directly to that rock that is my usual destination at the southernmost part of the swim. I pause and then start the journey north to Salt Creek.

Some of this water feels so warm that it feels like perhaps there is some volcanic activity making its way to the ocean floor. I see pelicans and terns flying over this silky smooth surface. I feel a compulsion to simply give myself to the water. I want to give all that I am. I want to offer up my whole body. I feel ready to trust. I will surrender to the currents and the wind and the depths and that horizon. That flat horizon that is so still and looks as though it could swallow up the entire earth and perhaps we would all be better off if it did. The water is incredibly cloudy. I can see a couple stalks of kelp that are super close by. It’s cloudy but pure blue. It’s good…very good.

It’s an out and back course. I swim just past the northern bathrooms and then right back to where I started. The swim to “shore” is even more precarious than the swim out. I literally crawl over the rocks and arrive at the ramp to the stairs on my belly. It’s not pretty but it feels great.

And here I am now writing about all of this. I look slightly left from my chair and I see the water. That same water I was just in. This is all one incredible gift. I hear some construction and garbage trucks outside making quite the racket but also hear nothing. Who can hear anything over the beauty of that water?