For a short period during my upbringing (grades 5-7), we lived in Daisy Hill which is about halfway between Brisbane and the Gold Coast. One summer my parents enrolled me in little nippers at Tugun SLSC, I was hopeless at the sport as I was with most sports my parents enrolled me in. However, being a kid of solid build that was tall for his age, I discovered in a game of gang-up tackle red-rover that I was somewhat unstoppable against kids my own age. I still remember charging down the touchline, on the sand, and bumping off other attackers to be the last child to remain and ultimately the victor. Up to that point, it was the first time I had ever won anything physical/sporting.

But little nippers is not just about competing on the sand, the most significant part of the sport is in the surf. And, while I was a capable swimmer, there was much I needed to learn about the ocean. My mother tells a story about once there was a group of us on a sandbar that got swept away, and how another parent saved a portion of this group (brought us back to where we could stand) prior to saving his own son. My mother marveled at this man’s confidence in his son’s ability and his heroism of saving us ‘newbies’ first.

I remember this experience, but it is not the one this story is about.

After I had been at the club for a little while, I was privileged enough to be lent a board and to go out into the surf with a mate and his father. The board was like a surfboard with handles but no leash. We started out away from the safety of the flags, as surf craft aren’t allowed in these areas and headed out the back to where the waves were breaking. With these boards when a wave is coming you don’t dive under, but simply turtle by flipping upside down and holding onto the board.

As we were getting out the back, the waves were getting bigger and we were starting to wait for the right one. With little to no experience, and lacking the patience such a sport possess, I saw a big wave approaching. The father and his son identified it straight away as a dumper and turtled up. Me, true to my nature – saw it as a challenge. I quickly turned my surf craft around and began paddling earnestly. I caught it, and for a few brief moments I was riding it, that is until sure enough it dumped on me and I went head over.  In the upturn, I lost grip of my board and was let go out in the deep, away from the father and son, but also a fair distance away from the beach.

Unable to see my accompanying surf mate or his father, I headed towards the beach. The waves (for me anyway) were breaking hard, I got dunked several times and I am pretty sure I swallowed some salt water. As I made my way in I was getting fatigued, I had already done a session of nippers and I was a fair way out. I was just about at the point of waving for help from the lifesavers, I am not sure whether they would have seen me considering I was not in the flags, but this gives a good indication to my fatigue levels.

Suddenly as if by a miracle, I was washed up onto a sandbar which allowed me a long while to catch my breath. After which I returned slowly to the beach to find my washed up surf craft and headed sheepishly back to the club.