A month ago we returned to Shaw’s Cove after a 5 year drought to find out that we’d been snorkeling to the wrong side all along. A few coves south lay the Laguna Beach Marine Life Refuge, where most of the juvenile leopard sharks learn to drive. Last time all our friends cancelled on us, but this time we had two join. Sam and I got there about 90 minutes before our friends. There were people on the beach around noon, but not an overwhelming number like at Shaw’s Cove.

The other draw for the Refuge was that this beach, Picnic Beach, had a restroom and a shower, which Shaw’s Cove doesn’t (and presents a multitude of problems).

Speaking of a multitude of problems; even though it had been 24 days since I’d tested positive for covid and 3 since testing negative (although I could have been negative 3 days earlier, we’ll never know), when I walked to the water in my wetsuit I felt a fatigue that made me worry I might be making a mistake. Fatigue and weakness in the ocean can kill you. I remember experiencing a tiny bout of life-ending fear when I’d been rolled in La Jolla after forcing myself into the water after getting no sleep the night before. Digging deep to find the energy to break the waves is a problem when your body and mind are trying constantly to shut down. This didn’t feel like that, I’d slept okay, but it was similar in that I felt not fully charged.

This appears to be a new form of heat exhaustion for me brought on by covid. Hopefully it doesn’t last forever. It’s similar to how I felt the last two weeks while finishing my walks around the neighborhood in 90 degree heat. Normally I do not feel this way when getting in the water, rather I feel excited.

This danger-zone feeling vanished as soon as I got fully immersed in the cool Pacific and only returned late in the day when I entered a real danger zone, but more about that later.

I went straight to the Refuge and immediately saw two larger juveniles swimming together.

Then two more younger sharks in quick succession. The wave energy was much higher today than last time to getting photos and video proved to be a challenge. However, it looked like finding the sharks would be easy. I saw four of them in only five minutes. I headed back to the beach to wait for our friends to arrive.

I dragged my friend over to the refuge, but by 2pm the sharks had gone into hiding again. Last time I thought this was because it was overcast by then, but now I’m starting to think perhaps they migrate to different spots at different hours or perhaps hide in the afternoon. I did see two sharks, but my friend, always turned around some other direction, didn’t.

I got out and spent some time on the beach with them. By mid afternoon the beach was packed just like Shaw’s. The covid fears creep in. We’re outside, but how much difference does that make if we’re barely farther apart than on the lawn at the Hollywood Bowl?

I made one last stab at finding the sharks around 3:30 and this time headed south to the rocky area immediately south of Picnic Beach. Most of this area is safe enough, and I did see sharks twice there.

I also saw some creepy monster fish with sharp teeth.

There were more nightmares ahead. Following those monster fish brought me to a portion of cove to the south of Picnic Cove that has an outer rock wall and an inner underwater valley in front of low sea cliffs. If you want to see exactly what I’m talking about click here for the Latitude and Longitude in Google Maps. Yes, I swam right in there, at low tide. Can I say it was “covid brain fog?”

Anyway, I made the mistake of swimming into this little area of turbulence, getting flipped by waves thanks to the outer wall causing them to break twice, swallowing seawater, and then struggling to breathe while trying to pedal out of there as fast as my weak little legs could kick. I know that on the google maps satellite it probably looks about the depth of a kiddie pool, but no, even at lowering tide that valley is at least twenty feet deep and despite being barely that wide it’s hard to get your bearings if all the water is full of bubbles from the crashing waves and sticking your head all the way out just leaves you vulnerable to another toss. Unless you’re a snorkeler you probably don’t realize it’s safer to wait out waves with your head under the water since unless you’re right exactly at the curl you’ll just float up with the wave energy – your snorkel tip still high enough to breathe. Earlier in the day it was probably safe, as the tips of the first rock wall would have been underwater and not caused the waves to break early. But I waited until it was dangerous.

It wasn’t until that moment that I again felt the “covid difference.” Although I can now pretend to be “back to normal” in 3rd gear, try to rev up and pass somebody and my turbos act like they’ve got gum in the pipes. Car similes aside, it was harder to swim and process the oxygen as quick than it used to be, which is a terrifying realization to have when you’re fighting crashing waves and a rip current between two different jutting sea walls adorned with razor sharp clam shells. It was only a few minutes of panic, and I probably swam out of the danger zone faster than I thought (I didn’t have the benefit of google maps’ aerial view, like you!), but when you’re in it, time “hits different.”

And that’s how you know when you’re done for the day.

Being a naturally anxious person it also made me wonder when I’d be done forever. Every time we go snorkeling I do wonder if I’ll end up one of those statistics. Of course blogging about it makes it even more likely, doesn’t it? What safety protocols can I abide by to prevent that. I’ll probably keep more distance between myself and any crashing waves (offshore) in the future.