Whales too — out further.
Flocks of birds fly by, close to the water level.
They riffle by in wispy murmurations. Pelicans jabber, Canadian Geese honk in rhythmic winging, Cormorants cascade. The wind blows mist off the cresting waves, rain comes, there are bursts of sunlight — and meanwhile, you feel like you’re in the middle of a deep ocean storm — big waves, surging currents pulling you out and out, the Rip pulling you back to Her.
And salt, all over.
If you’ve ever gone river-running — kayaking or rafting — in a class 5 river; well, it’s like that. Only you’re not on a raft, running in one direction, but you’re being pulled in a multiplicity of currents.
Workout.
Swim like your life depends on it.
Mostly we’re out when there is a “do not enter the water” advisory for the Washington Coast. The wave energy, measured in Joules — starts at 500 kJoules. 2000 kJoules is a warning sign on the Surf Forecast we use. We’d consider a minimum suit-up and run-out, at 5000 kJoules.
But the best is storm-warned [mostly winter]weather, with the big rolls, out at 14,000 kJoules. That’s when it’s best, the roughest, the wildness of the marine, salt-sprayed world all around you. When you’re swimming out that far, it’s spectacularly energizing — joy rejuvenates.
The best waves are called “overhead,” that is, they’re taller than you. That pushes out to 10, 12, 14, 17 feet curls.
Out there, swimming.
Fins help.
A small body board is your transit ticket.
And it looks like this: