Witness

I’m betting that today (Tuesday) is my last window of opportunity to get into the water until at least Sunday. An atmospheric river is due to dump all day tomorrow and through the next few days. All this will dirty up the water and create for a pretty chewed up ocean surface along with some solid swell as well. I was really hoping I could get in yesterday but as soon as I was due to leave, the beach disappeared into thick fog. I later ran through the Doheny parking lot south of the campgrounds and I could just barely see the water that was no more than 20 feet away.

Well there is no fog today. I leave my apartment at just a couple minutes past 7:00. I’m in a bit of a rush because I need to be back for a meeting at 9:00 - just barely enough time for me to get my south route swim in and hopefully put on some dry clothes before logging in. Skies are very grey with some rain possible as early as 8:00. That rain, if it shows, should be light and I figure the water will still be clean enough. The wind is stronger than usual for this time - about 7 knots. Fortunately it is coming from the south-east which makes for less choppy conditions than a north west wind.

It’s probably just a half hour after dawn and things are still a bit dim. Not a whole lot of activity in the parking lot and I snag my favorite space closest to the stairs. Oof I feel that breeze as I get out of my truck in just swim trunks. Still I am thinking about how cool it is that I can head to the shore without lugging a towel and a bunch of warmer clothes like I would on most years. That water temperature is still over 60 degrees. I was thinking this storm might just put an end to that but according to yesterday’s water temperature forecast, it sounds like that will not be the case. That said I have also learned that the water temperature forecasts are far less than inerrant.

Anyways here I am and while it is a bit brisk, it is beautiful. No it is not sunny and bright - quite the opposite in fact. It’s cloudy and dim and wonderful. It feels lonely here. I feel like I am witness to something that few have chosen to come and observe. Somehow I have caught the beach in a moment of private vulnerability - in an exhaling sigh with its cliffs and sand and water giving away an intimate secret not necessarily meant for me but here I am nonetheless to see it.

I don’t feel particularly apprehensive about the cool water. I just can’t bring myself to call it cold right now but I might have used that word if you would have spoken to me at this moment. I feel determined to get in the water and experience this last swim of the week before the Christmas holiday is upon us. As an act of sheer will, I choose not to think of cold. I’m getting in that water and I am going to savor it for all that I can regardless of its temperature. It definitely looks savory from the shore here.

I get in slowly. These moments seem precious. It’s just me and that pelican flying in front of me here. With every step forward it feels like the environment subtly shifts and everything I see changes in a wonderful way. I hesitate to start swimming not for the temperature but I just don’t want to miss out on the action here. Well, now is the time. I start swimming and it is indeed cool but I am also just so happy to be here doing this. I wasn’t so sure I’d be able to make it out in time but here I am. I am wet and swimming south.

Soon as I head a bit further offshore, I feel the water grow warmer and it is like I am throwing a blanket around my shoulders. It feels good. Everything below the surface appears fairly clear but dark so there really is not much to see unless you stop and stare for a while - not that there is anything wrong with that but I’m on a tight schedule this morning. I keep swimming and try not to stop much. I notice as I try to hurry the pace and then feel the aerobic intensity on my breath and circulation and then try to relax just a little bit.

I eventually realize that I really should stop to have a look. I wouldn’t want to reach the south end without at least looking once. So I briefly stop and I am immediately glad that I did. I stare to the south and it looks so pretty. The clouds and the water and the headlands ahead all look so naturally perfect. I turn around and take in the lifeguard tower below the Ritz. It’s good. Then I keep swimming.

As I arrive at the southern end, I am wondering just where my turnaround rock is. I don’t see it. Surely it is here close. Then I look to my right towards the horizon and there it is. I am just swimming closer to shore than normal thanks to the light surf and high tide. My rock is barely poking above the surface. There is probably less than 12 inches exposed and the water ebbs and flows so gently around it so I allow myself to get close. There are tons of star fish clinging to it under the water and I must say it is quite cool to look at. I spend a couple minutes wading around it and poking my face below the surface to have a good look at all of this. Finally I realize that I really should get moving and so I do.

I swim north all the way to that lifeguard tower - or almost anyways. The water is moving northwards from that south wind. I have to right my trajectory several times when I notice that I am heading straight for shore. Once I reach the north end of the beach. I look around me for half a minute and then continue back to where I started to finish. The surf is so incredibly nonexistent that I swim in just about a foot of water through the final 50 to 100 feet of the swim. This is all so wonderful. I stand myself up on the beach and there are a few walkers about now. Conditions don’t look all that different from when I started. Maybe a little more light and a little more wind. I walk up the ramp with gratitude filling my heart for what I just witnessed.