After my shark sighting two weeks ago (yes, a small leopard shark swam ten feet beneath me), I was a little nervous about getting in the water today. It didn't help that the marine layer was thick enough to be drizzling, and the ocean was tossing about like there was a storm.
The photo below doesn't do it justice, but this is what I've got:
I dawdled putting my wetsuit on, long enough that a big group started to gather. I didn't know any of them, but I was already deciding to sneak in with them so I didn't have to swim alone.
When a few ladies walked down the steps to the beach, I followed a little ways behind. I've mastered the art of crashing swimmers' parties. Mostly it's kinda like stalking. I creepily follow behind far enough to make it seem like maybe I'm not following them, but close enough to be within sight of the group. It just makes me feel better.
I got in behind the ladies and swam out past the surge in the cove. I noticed a lot of little fish near the surface. I didn't like that that would probably bring fish-eaters closer to the surface. I poked my head up when the ladies stopped to locate another from their group. I smiled and put my head back in and swam slowly enough for them to catch up. They got swimming again and joined up with a larger group already in the water. I recognized one guy, John, as one of the people who were kind enough to let me join them on my first day out.
Off we all went to the quarter mile buoy. The water was far rougher than what it seemed from shore. Waves rose up and dropped off quickly, slapped us in the face and arms. It was hard to see the buoy through the heaving ocean. Long fingers of kelp rose up from the bottom and I tried not to think about them. After awhile I started to take a lead on the group, so I slowed down, looked around, and made sure I stayed with them. These are times I wish I had my underwater camera with me. I'd like to capture what it's like to be eye level with the ocean, especially on it's angrier days. I found a couple images on the internet that give you some perspective.
(Maxx Buchanan)
We made it to the quarter mile buoy and stopped to wait for everyone else to gather. By now I had said hello to John, and Leslie- who was also in the group and had swam with me my first day. I was now in the group, and everyone probably just assumed I had come with someone else. Everyone remarked how much it was like being out on the open ocean in a storm. But being in the group made it far less scary. There was some discussion about whether people wanted to go to the half mile buoy or head back. Some wanted to continue, others wanted to go back. I said I could go either way. A big part of the group decided to go back. One guy said he was moving on, and asked if I wanted to go. I said I'd go. A few more guys said they'd go further too. Off we went.
When we got to the half mile buoy, one group said they were going to swim around the lane markers (to keep boaters out). Another guy said he was going to swim to the other one, then loop around and catch them at their marker. They split off in different directions. I sat treading water, watching the groups split and wondering who to go with. I followed the guy who was heading towards shore, then turning around the buoy and heading back out away from shore.
Boy was that a harsh call. Now we were swimming directly into those waves. With my head down in the water, I couldn't see them coming. My arm would crash into a wave or find free air. I was lifted up, then suddenly dropped so quickly that I slapped down on the other side of the wave. I sat up and looked around. This was crazy! I put my head back in and did my best, getting lifted, dropped, or smacked head on. We met up with the other group and then headed back.
One of the guys, Greg I think, mentioned how a group of swimmers meets a couple times during the week and they're more my level. I really wasn't much better than them, and really, I was just happy to have other people to swim with. Otherwise, all of this would've been absolutely terrifying.
At the quarter mile buoy on the way back, we stopped and talked to some swimmers coming out.
"How is it out there?"
"Still choppy!" responded one of the guys.
"Ha! You mean it doesn't get calm out there, huh?"
"No, it's just as bad out there as it is right here". I mean, we're a quarter mile off shore, paralleling the beach. It was a joke.
"I feel like we're swimming up river on the way back" I mentioned.
"Yeah, for sure" said one guy nodding.
I think what really gets me is that we're out there in this inky black sea- tossed by wind whipped waves, just laughing and joking. And that really points to the power of the mind. Just having a couple people swimming next me, who were comfortable and having a good time, was the complete opposite of what it felt like to swim alone. Had I swam alone today, this is what it would've looked like to me:
But alas, we all made it to shore in one piece and I went off to change into my cycling clothes. I rode through the drizzle up to the top of Mt. Soledad, then back down along the coast to my car.
Imagination is a funny thing. Everything in life is perception, and our perceptions are always skewed. How can we ever trust our own minds? But then again, how can we not?
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