Red Vines & Cottage Cheese :Wetsuit Nirvana, Part III

My hand reaches under the water, into the brown sandy murk. The visibility under the sea is what? About 3 feet. I try not to get freaked out by this. I like to see where I am. Where I’m going. This is only natural and not something that I have to think about in the pool.

            I lift my head up every few strokes to gauge the distance to the pylons. They still seem far away, but now I spy a seagull on top of them. He’s my great beaked hope!

            I swim on. Parallel to the rocky shore. I see families in bright colored pedal pushers, kids clamoring up and down the rocks. While I feel alone, I’m really not. These walkers are close and many seem to be watching me. I give a wave to one group. One of them waves back.

            I’m seen.

            I press on. I’m not cold, but I do start to wonder if I’ll ever make it to the pylons. And while Kilt Man had said it was only ½ mile to them, it feels like much more.  I flip onto my back and kick for a bit, then flip back over onto my stomach and try for a stronger freestyle stroke. It is hard! And then......, I glance up to see that all of a sudden, there They are. The Pylons! And they are two! Stuck into the sea’s floor, they loom above the surface of the water by about I don’t know, 12, 15 feet.

            And atop one is not a seagull but a Mighty Cormorant, his long black neck holding his small beaked head up. He’s gazing out at the view of San Francisco, the Sales Force Tower looming above the fog.

            “Hey, Mr. Cormorant!” I yell up to him. He gazes down at me for a moment before taking flight. He’s done his job.

            I feel a great sense of glee and relief. I made it! To the Pylons!

            Now,  circling around them, I have to swim back. Will I make it? It’s not like I have a choice, though I do think that if I get too tired or cold I could simply swim to the rocky shore and climb up. The families would help me.

            Yet, this is hardly necessary. The swimmer guys from a couple weeks ago were right. It’s a breeze swimming back. The waves and wind are behind me. The tide is pushing me forward toward the shore. I can’t keep the big grin off my face as I head  back to the beach.

            Ian greets me with his red towel as I swim into shore. “You made it,” he proclaims.

            “Ian! I swam to the pylons! I did a mile! Wow!”

            Exhausted, I plop down on my towel after the arduous task of removing the wetsuit. No need to describe it here. Let’s just say it easier to get off than get on. But not much.

            As I lie under towels, the warmth of the sun starts to soothe me. I’m exhausted but in a good way.

            “…..yes, Red Vines are delicious…..”

            “Gimme gimme….”

            “I brought some cottage cheese. Do you want some cottage cheese?”
            “NO NO NOOOO!!!! Red Vines!”

            “How about if I put a red vine on top of the cottage cheese?”

            “NO! RED VINE!!!!”

            I chuckle to myself. Who wouldn’t want a red vine instead of cottage cheese? But another part of me wonders, who the hell brings cottage cheese to the beach? It’s weird. Esp. with Covid signage everywhere saying “NO Picnics”.

            “Let me put my water shoes on and we’ll go down to the water, okay?”

            “NO. RED VINE!!!”

            “You about ready to go, Carol?” Ian interrupts my eavesdropping. “Don’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

            “Yeah, of course….” I shift a bit in the sand, feeling the warmth of the sun, thinking about the swim to the pylons, and thanking my sister for her wetsuit. She made it all possible.

           If I only had a red vine all would be complete. I don’t even like red vines, but now, I’ll forever associate them with swimming to the Pylons at Keller Cove.

            But forget the cottage cheese!