Da Plane! Das Boot(s)!

Next swim: 

        Mon-Fri 6am and 5pm 

        Sat, Sun 8am, Noon

        

Last Swim: Thursday 6am 

Water Temp: 69

Air Temp: low-mid 60's 

Clarity: Not much, but improving

Waves: swells out of the south

Crew: Magic Mike, TattooLady, LtMJ, Cindy, Jenny, Stephanie, Dragonfly, Showgirl, Sheila, Ala, one more? and probably Diablo on the early shift, plus a gaggle of unaffiliated swimmers who arrived at around 7am.  TattooLady identified them as masters swimmers from Juno... something, Linda, Jill, MaryJoy, Kathy, and one more.

I had a peek at the sunrise driving in to the parking lot, but midway down the ramp nearly everyone stopped and whipped out their phones to take a photo.  It turned the surface of the water into a dark silvery mirror.

Photo Credit: TattooLady 
(Click on this photo to see how truly amazing the sunrise was.)

I took the temperature, and it felt a tiny bit cooler than the 69 on my thermometer.  There was definitely a relaxed vibe about getting the swim started, but ultimately we headed south.

Before we got far from the beach something caught my eye. At first I thought it was a bird. Following my rule to savor the moments, I stopped, and saw that it was a low-flying jet, heading south with us.  Post swim several of us agreed that the plane had freaked us out a bit.

The sun continued to creep above the horizon, partly hidden by the clouds.

It was another "stay on top of the water" day, with one or two shocking pockets of cold.  If you stopped to lollygag and enjoy the sights, the water on your feet was noticably colder than at the surface.

Many of us swam to the Backhoe wall, and some swam further.  There has been big progress on the wall, with a layer of smaller rocks piled on top of the layer of gigantic rocks.  There a ladder from the bluff down to the rocks. I imagined the homeowners climbing down the ladder to enjoy cocktails (on the rocks!) on top of their creation.  One hand grabbing the ladder, one hand holding a tray of drinks, bag chair slung over one shoulder.

Swimming back, there was a slight push from the waves.  Once back we discussed the plane, and analyzed the three boats that were vanishing into the horizon, and tossed millepedes off our gear, and continued to ponder the pink marks.

Also notable this morning-- it was an all-woman swim until Magic Mike arrived to be our token male.

R.I.P. Davida.