Hi.

Also; ideas, as it were, lead us to topics.  Topics lead us to insight.  And insight leads us neatly to pancakes.  It’s also a smashing way to start a discussion.  Insight, that is, not pancakes.

And so the tale begins.

Somewhere, nestled deeply between “Which one was better, Jaws, or Nightmare on Elm Street?” and “Can you use cauliflower as a sponge?” lay a delightful platter of near death experiences.

For my part, it’s a summer vacation to Fraser Island with the folks in my teens.  A trip down to Lake McKenzie’s pristine waters.  The kind of water that’s so clear you can see ten feet below you; and beyond that, sparse leagues that disappear off the shelf into the cooler blue wonders of its abyssal treasures.

And as you do, we took a boogey board out into the middle with a diving watch and plumbed the depths.  The game was basically:  one breath, how low can you go.

After about the fourth attempt, we were already pretty knackered.  Four or five metres was about the extent you could manage before the ears started to pop and that familiar dead weight caused your lungs to burn.   Still, it was fun and we were keen.

The next dive was basically the be-all, end-all.  You knew you still had hours of swimming in you, but the fatigue of holding your breath that long, time after time, had started to take its toll.

It’s funny – on the way back up, I remember bumping into something.   At the time it felt hard and sharp, and without goggles, dim light that hampered sight any more than a foot or two infront of you, I immediately started to freak out.  Was that a shark?  What the fuck was it?

Turns out it was a turtle.  There’s hundreds of the bastards in the lake, especially in the summer months.  But, still on my way up, with metres still to climb, and with the dire need to take a breath threatening to bust out my chops as I gulped down mouthful upon mouthful of salty goodness (that one’s for you Lenko), panic struck.  That fucker did look like a shark.  Whatever air I had left just kind of exploded out of my mouth.

Thankfully, my mate had his goggles, and was conveniently watching the whole escapade play out from the safety of a calmer surface above.  Cue dramatic rescue, stage left.

I didn’t really drown or anything.  No tunnel of light or any of that business.  But it was definitely one of those “life before your eyes” moments.  Its ok now though.  I only occasionally wake up, skin a pasty shade of white, bed drenched with sweat, clawing at my imaginary wet suit and gurgling out for Mummy.  It’s not like I have a complex or anything.

Still, it does beg the question.  Have you nearly carked it?
And if so, wouldn’t you like to share your embarrassing tale among the tribe?

Like, right now?  On the webz?