Oceanside Harbor Sunday noon perfection

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Got in the water today and it was a gorgeous day with beautiful water condition. So glad I went. Low tide, 5 foot visibility, water cleaner than u of usual.

About 40 surfers spread out across the width of the beach. Max of 3 foot waves. It was a longboard day.

Slow waves, long interval between them, enough for all. 

Two foot, slow waves for teenagers...seemed like a young group. Dads with little kids in wetsuits getting raised right in sunny, mild Oceanside.

Two big Navy amphibious ships lazed about, 1 was anchored, I think. The type with the aft giant ramp that lowers to launch or accept boats.

Free entertainment. I really appreciated the little time I spent kicking a little and relaxing. Chilly salt water. Radiation tomorrow, just day 5 of 33 total. I wanted to get a baseline assessment of my breathing.

A couple of photos.

"The first time you quit is the last time you try."

A Repeat of Monday the 12th on Tuesday 1/13/25

Able to get myself in the water again. How? Why? Why not?

Early afternoon without a cloud in the light blue sky. Very mild current flowing north to south at the Harbor beach. No photos as they would be repetitive.

Fifteen minutes lying on my back looking for pelicans and seagulls. Very few seagulls and zero pelicans. 

Thank you to buoyancy for the relief of bodily constraints. No more attempts to beat the cold water for me anymore. I wear the wet suit with neoprene cap--yellow. Stare at me if you wish. There are liberties with age. One no longer cares what observers may think of the outfit and limited activity. 

Visibility 4-5 feet. Very few humans in the water. Six surfers. Nice.

"The first time you quit is the last time you try."

OCEANSIDE HARBOR LOW TIDE GORGEOUS MELLOW SWIM Jan 12, 2026

2026 now

Nov 25, 2025 was the last time I got wet!

I can hardly believe the duration of my inactivity. I start radiation soon and I require myself to get a check of my airways--my trachea and lungs--to assess the openness of them...or lack thereof.

Fortunately, I breathed through open airways in the gentle water for 15 minutes. No lung or diaphragm pain or stricture. Lying under a light blue sky with a smattering of white, feathery lines of clouds was stirring. Will I ever decipher the obstacle that blocks me from getting into the water, which I love.

Am I punishing myself. Is it the immobility of depression that smothers me. A heavy layer of metaphorical glue sticking me to my chair? It's a chain holding me fast with weak links that rarely now can I break.

Perfect water conditions for a novice longboard surfer early afternoon. Two-foot, slow waves with a long interval between each. Five-foot visibility, no current. Half a dozen surfers at the south Harbor rock jetty, north side. No tension or competition for the mild, gentle rides. An unexpected blessing for this senior citizen.

"The first time you quit is the last time you try."

YOUR DAIMON

Yes, the "Daimon." I see the word appear when I read of Alexander the Great and his years of warring with his Macedonians and Greeks across the Mediterranean Sea, the Balkans, the Near East, Turkey, Syria, south to the Levant and throughout Mesopotamia. 

He inspirited his troops by the strength of his Daimon, his warrior's spirit, that raged inside of him at varying levels through a decade. His leadership inspired the troops to follow him by the hundreds of thousands.

I had my own daimon as a young man, nothing in the neighborhood of a Greek mercenary or a Roman Gladiator, but an angry drive from within for a few years.

It has been gone for so many years due to health reasons but I felt it a little yesterday. It's odd; it's a sort of message to my weakened self not to yield to the cancers and the spinal surgeries and the fallout from them. 

The surgeon who cut my thyroid cancer out--along with lots of lymph nodes around my neck, told me to wait 3 weeks to get into the beach again. I'll be there. 

Have you ever dropped so low that you can't envision a rising from the dead? I sure have--so many times. 

Besides the nerve pain and the weird band of thick, glued skin around my neck, I sense the daimon returning. 

Thanks for the positive messages, folks. 

"The first time you quit is the last time you try."

OCEANSIDE, CA Never again, Harbor Beach

Harbor Beach, Oceanside, CA. I miss you so...

It's not looking good for me to get swimming in the water soon. I got a new diagnosis recently of a malignant thyroid cancer. The surgeons at VA La Jolla cut my neck apart, ear to ear for 6 hours, and glued it back together.

This is not a good procedure. My neck is sooo swollen and painful and choking me. Dead areas of nerves. Big areas of soft tissue that now feels like wood--hard as wood. I'm not even thinking about swimming. 

"The first time you quit is the last time you try."