Navigation - The Sun

I had a sudden realization almost as soon as I got in the ocean today, though only after I got over the biological shock of the cold water (you don’t realize anything until you get past that), that I had left out the main point about my disorientation in the water the other morning: the thick clouds had blocked the sun. Gone was that sure-fire navigation point. The fogged goggles and the swells hiding shore points behind a wall of water had merely added insult to injury. As I stroked through today’s calm waters I stared down at another navigation point I had been missing, the sea bottom. With no waves breaking on top of me I could swim in the shallows, with the sandy bottom bright in the sunshine through clear water. Depth was easy to see. This beach, like many, slopes only gradually in a uniform plane down the entire length, so I can approximate my distance from shore by the depth of the water below me. In other words, navigation was a piece of cake.

The stinging in my toes reminded me there were other things to worry about. I had only been in the frigid water for five minutes and already the blood was retreating to my warm core. To complicate matters, I had forgotten my towel and blew off the idea of wasting ten minutes to go get it, so getting out of the water would be a bitch. A man needs a plan. Today was not a day for long distance. I resolved to get out immediately if the toes went from tingling to numb. Making decisions early beat trying to make them if the confusion of hypothermia crept in.

Bitch. It just screamed into my thoughts from the icy cold. Time under tension. Get it done. Swim faster. I stretched farther, dug harder, which worked like a charm until I got near the blue awning of my turnaround spot. The shoulders burned. The toes were numbing, the hands sore, but not yet cramping. I was maybe 50 yards short of the awning, which was close enough for government work. I turned around. As I did, I tried to remember the direction of the wind, and therefore the chop. I don’t always notice until I get tired. I wanted some help. It’s difficult to tell when you are in the middle of it just trying to breathe, but I thought I had been facing into it, and so hoped the chop would now help push me home. In any case, I needed to relax about being tired. Panic in the water kills more swimmers than sharks.

I was thankful again for the clear water below me. Vision calms us. The bottom flew by as I swam. The wind and the chop were indeed pushing me home. I could still feel the toes when I wiggled them. I had all the time I needed at this pace. But now my best friend, the sun, glared directly in my field of vision, blocking out my return point. At least I could see the buildings on the perpendicular shore, and the depth to the bottom, which still zoomed away behind me.

The sun became a better friend once I got out, delivering at least a hint of October warmth to help me dry off. But it couldn’t help me get out of a wet bathing suit with no towel to hide me. I didn’t want to pull the sweatpants over that soggy patch. I was shivering cold. There were few people at the beach. Comfort won out over decorum.

Hot coffee is a blessing to a cold man. Add warmth to the list of what calms us.