When I was 11 years old, I went swimming at Muriwai—a New Zealand beach notorious for its strong riptides.
Since I was a child, my Dad warned me about west coast beaches—their currents being stronger and more unpredictable than their eastern equivalent.
But Dad wasn’t there that day, and I was young, naive, and complacent—having fun with 30 friends from my church’s youth group.
My friend Miles and I swam out into the waves, laughing and joking with each other. However, within 5 minutes, I realised I could no longer touch the sandy bottom. Miles couldn’t either.
We decided to swim back to shore, but after another 5 minutes, we were pulling further and further away from the beach.
I’d taken swimming lessons all my life, and up until this point, I had full confidence we’d make it back to the beach. But I remember hearing my voice quiver as I said to Miles we were getting further away.
One thing I’m grateful for about growing up in New Zealand is the water safety training most children get through school or private lessons. Living near the beach, and spending a lot of time in the water makes this a necessity.
At this point, the training kicked in, I raised and waved my hand as a call for help. In hindsight, I should’ve started earlier, as I was already tired from the swimming and treading water.
A surfer, about 50 metres away, saw us and started paddling over. Seeing him pull up and his calm voice saying, “Grab on to my board, and hold on,” gave me instant relief. It took him 5 minutes to paddle back to shore, the board providing buoyancy and an ability to slice over the surface of the water; something Miles and I couldn’t do on our own.
When we finally arrived back to the beach, the surfer made sure Miles and I were okay, and I remember the joy of feeling the sand under my feet again.
I was completely shaken. In the space of a few minutes, I’d gone from playing to my life being at risk. I remember feeling shame, as the scenario my Dad had warned me about had played out word for word, except Miles and I were lucky the surfer saw us.
Since this day, I have carried with me a deeper respect and healthy fear of the water. I know that when in Mother Nature, before we have time to think, things can change for the worse.
When I got home and told Dad what had happened, he was furious; beyond anything I’d seen before. I also discovered that day, in seeing the anguish in his reaction, how deep a father’s love can go.