The Day I Nearly Drowned

22nd August 2020

The photo below is of a beautiful alcove on the island of Korcula in Croatia. The Dalmation coast seems to be an endless series of shimmering beaches, each one with water that is clearer, calmer and a shinier blue than the last. But this particular beach holds a special memory for me, because this time last week, I almost drowned in that water.

It was all Lois’ fault. Sort of. If only she hadn’t stood on a sea urchin. We’d arrived at our latest destination earlier that day, and soon after our arrival the two of us and Rosie went down to check out the beach which was right by our accommodation. It was as promised — beautiful, quiet and secluded (there were a few other people mucking around in a boat, but we essentially had the place to ourselves). I was still very excited about our new full-face masks (bought for snorkelling rather than social distancing purposes) and this was the perfect place to try them out.

But we’d only been in the water for a minute when Lois hopped awkwardly to the shore. We’d forgotten to wear our sea shoes, which we’d brought along to protect our feet from Croatia’s stoney beaches and sea urchins. After all, if you’ll forgive the foreshadowing, the sea can be a treacherous place.

Her poor foot had absorbed a rather painful collection of sea urchin spines, so she hobbled back to our apartment, and we spent the next couple of hours applying a compilation of Googled articles to her foot — vinegar, very hot water, olive oil, very hot vinegar, pins and tweezers. Sometimes all of them at the same time.

The afternoon was suddenly all about Lois and her stupid foot — not at all what I’d had in mind for my first day in our little corner of paradise. So I excused myself from tweezer duties for a bit, and decided to head back down to our lovely little beach. “I’ll be back soon”, I promised Lois.

I’d done a fair bit of snorkelling in Croatia already. It’s a joy to cruise around in the water, because it’s consistently calm and clear. When I got into the water this time, I didn’t take on that it was choppier than usual, and that there was nobody else around.

Off I went into the Adriatic. I’m a reasonably strong swimmer, confident in the water, so I thought nothing of swimming along the side of the beach, close to the rocks but quite far out. I was relaxed, buoyant in the salty water, and enjoying a clear view of the fish and rocks.

I didn’t think anything of cutting across into the middle either, although as I swam away from the side, I noticed for the first time that I was getting thrown around by waves more than usual. But I was fine, still face down in the water enjoying the view.

Then I experienced a moment of mask malfunction — some water got into the mask and in my eyes. That’s not a big deal, I’m pretty adept at clearing my mask. Except this was one of our clever new full face masks, and I was less adept at clearing the water from it. I ended up having to take it off completely. As I did so, a wave caught me full in the face, leaving me spluttering.

I looked to shore, and realised it was pretty far away. I tried to put my mask back on, but couldn’t do it in the middle of the water. I tensed up. I tried lying on my back, but another wave smacked up my nose, leaving me coughing again.

And then it suddenly happened, something I’ve never experienced before. Panic. I was far out in choppy water, struggling with a mask in one hand, getting thrown around by the waves. I suddenly couldn’t see how I could get back to shore. I started hyperventilating. My limbs became useless.

And that was the moment, with my breathing gone haywire and my body suddenly feeling exhausted, that I became certain that I was about to drown. I held off screaming for a bit, because that would involve admitting that I was in terrible danger. But with no control of my breathing or my arms, it seemed to be all I had left. I shouted for help. I shouted Lois’ name. And then I realised I was on my own, a moment of sheer terror which I hope I never experience again. My life didn’t fly past my eyes (that may have been the next stage). All I did was whimper the words “oh no” a couple of times as I prepared to meet my fate.

Well, it’s no spoiler to tell you that I didn’t drown. Just as panic set in and sent me in a dangerous spiral out of control, something else happened to reverse the process. There was no sudden moment of determination to get myself out of my predicament. But I got myself onto my back again, and just ignored the waves splashing into my face. It had a calming effect. I knew instinctively that I could float almost effortlessly on my back, and as I did so my heart slowed down (my watch later told me it had hit 170BPM at the height of the terror) and I took back a bit of control. I started slowly kicking my way towards shore, then realised that there was a platform in the side rocks a fair bit closer. It took quite a while against some pretty strong waves, but as I made progress towards safety, I became calmer, and so the process was reversed.

I still clung onto that mask, I’ve no idea why, all it was doing by that stage was limiting my mobility in the water, but clear thinking had not yet entirely returned.

I got back to the platform, and pulled myself out of the water, traumatised, but otherwise fine. I shared the story with my family, and they dealt with it in different ways, but were all almost as freaked out as I was.

For a couple of days after it happened, my mind was constantly drawn back to the surreal minutes in the water when I thought I was a goner. Every time I thought about it, it was visceral — like I was back there, I could feel the terror again. But a week on and back in London, I can’t draw on that emotion any more, which I think has to be a good thing. It’s become a memory, a story to tell, something to write about.

I guess this post serves partly as therapy, partly as writing exercise, and partly as public service announcement. I’ve done a lot of reading in the last week about drowning incidents. A few take aways for me, and for you if you got this far:

- Swimming in the sea on your own is a very bad idea, even if you think you’re a strong swimmer. The sea’s a lot stronger. Don’t do it, kids.

- Drowning is panic (or at least, the type of drowning that I nearly experienced). It’s easy to say now that I’m safe and dry, but staying calm is crucial — I completely lost control and stopped thinking straight. Once I managed to control my breathing, I could see my options for getting out of my predicament.

- The key for me was getting on my back and floating. That calmed me down, and got me back to dry land.

Here endeth the lesson.

I told Lois the story straight away, and she told me that she did hear some shouting in the distance while she was sitting on the balcony nursing her sore foot. She briefly wondered if it could be me, then dismissed the idea. Probably a good thing, I’m not sure that her seeing me out there would have helped.

I am very lucky to be able to recount this story. I’m not sure how many lives I get in this big game, but I figure I’ve now gone through at least a couple. When I got out of the water at the end of my ordeal, I realised I was still holding onto that stupid mask. In the panic, I clung onto it — I didn’t even have the sense to drop it and free up a hand, but we will keep it forever more as a small monument to my stupidity.