The waves were big, and the rip was like an express train which took me to nowhere, other than the deep, cold and rough waters that had been whipped up by a vicious low pressure system.
I’m probably the second worst type of person to get caught in a rip – the first being a swimmer of zero ability, usually a tourist unfamiliar with our silent killers. I am a reasonably confident swimmer, but that’s exactly what got me into trouble.
You know the type – ‘trust me, I know boats!’ Well, I don’t know boats, and it turns out I don’t know rips very well either.
That said, I’m not sure what the right thing to do was – the waves were simply too big and rough to be out in in the first place.
Somehow I found land, and I was intact. I learnt a valuable lesson – but I forgot it and did it all again about a year later. This time I took my girlfriend with me and we both nearly drowned. It wasn’t very romantic, but we got married anyway.
So what’s the lesson there? Survive a rip and love will blossom?
Dear me – I digress. What I was trying to say is rips can be very unpleasant, so don’t get caught in one, and if you do, do as I say, not as I do. And that is: relax (yeah right), assess, and then give Dr Brander a call from your waterproof mobile, that you always have handy in your budgy smugglers! He seems to be the expert in these matters of wave wisdom.
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