I had just finished school when I went to Brisbane to spend summer with an old friend. It was a scorching hot day when her father suggested a trip to the beach in Maroochydore. When we got there it was blustery and choppy, so we decided to go in the shallows.
Next thing I knew, the water was past my knees, then it was past my chest, and then it dragged me under. Even though I had grown up near the beach and had done plenty of swimming in my time, I’d never come across a rip before, so I had no idea what was happening. I kept trying to swim up to the top of the water but I’d make it to the surface, take one breath, then get pulled back down. I now know you’re meant to swim sideways to escape a rip but at the time all I wanted to do was get to shore and I was failing spectacularly.
