What's the closest you've ever come to drowning?

In My Humble Opinion
1

I have two:

The first happened when I was maybe four, possibly five. Pre-school anyway. My younger brother was a babe in arms so Mama was holding him while Daddy was standing at the edge of a little creek throwing a stick out in the water for me to retrieve. We didn’t have a dog so I was it. The creek was maybe 20’ wide with the first 15’ or so very shallow and with a gravel bottom. The last 5’ or so got suddenly deeper, to a depth of maybe a foot or two. It was a quick-moving creek and lots of people were sunbathing or wading or just hanging out near the water to stay cool. Maybe 50 yards downstream from where I was playing the people thinned out, the creek got wider and deeper, and there was no reason to be down there.

Anyway, Daddy tossed the stick out into the deeper water and turned his back and went back to where Mama was. As soon as I stepped into the deeper part the current sucked me under and I went tumbling along the creek, gasping for breath, strangling and panicking. If it hadn’t have been for the last man on the bank, who grabbed my hand and pulled me out, I wouldn’t be here. It all happened in less than a minute.

Next summer I learned how to swim in the public pool.

The second time was when I was in my teens and some friends and I had gone up to the lake. We stopped on a bridge and decided to jump and dive off of it into the water, since there was a well-worn path back up to the roadway and it was obviously a well-used swimming and jumping/diving area. (I don’t think any of us had the presence of mind to check how deep the water was, and it was murky so there was no way to see how deep it was). I had gotten in the habit, in the public pool, of diving in in such a way as to get to the bottom and then kick off from the bottom, thus avoiding any excess swimming to get back to the surface.

When I dived off the bridge I had that same technique in mind, but the combination of not getting a deep enough breath and the fact that the water had to have been at least 20’ deep, made my attempt to hit bottom useless. And the water got very cold about 10’ down. By the time it occurred to me that I was going to have to swim to the surface, I was almost out of breath, scared, and had difficulty seeing the surface. I was about to have to breathe when I finally broke the surface and my friends just laughed at how panicked I was.

A couple of years later, a kid I knew in school and some of his buddies had stopped on a bridge to dive into a creek, maybe 30’ below. They didn’t check the depth (which was less than 5’) and the kid broke his neck and died there. Note to the wise: look before you leap.

Any close calls for you?

2

We lived in a small town where there was an abandoned limestone quarry. People had gone there to swim for years. The depth was wildly variable, depending on where you were, from shin-deep to a hundred feet or more. People (don’t know whether to call them brave or stupid) would dive off the cliffs, 40 to 60 feet, into the deepest parts. How there managed to be no deaths there is a kind of miracle.

My mom and I, and some neighbors were there one day. I was standing in water up to my knees, and idly walking backwards. Then I stepped into a hole and began to panic and flail, as I wasn’t touching any bottom. My mom rushed over and picked me up out of the hole and set me down again. After I was OK, she investigated this hole, and it was just deep enough to be over my head. The quarry is now a Provincial Park and people swim there all summer. I don’t know if they’ve managed to identify all the holes and put markers in them, or what. Hope so!

I did the very same thing for my brother when he was 7 or 8, at another lake. He did the same thing - stepped into a hole in what was knee-deep water and I jumped off the dock and picked him straight up out of it.

3

At age 2, on a brilliant summer afternoon in 1969, I plunged heedlessly into the swimming pool at the apartment complex of some family friends…one of whom, supervising at poolside, promptly dove in and fished me out.

I retain an oddly tranquil, Nirvana-like memory of submersion in the pretty blue water.

I have no memory whatsoever of my rescue.

4

Was there a dollar in the pool?

5

No, but I dimly recall a toy robot that I may have dropped in the drink and wished to retrieve.

6

Summer of 1993, I was in my early 20s. My sister and I had been riding our bikes on a bike path along the river and decided to stop for a quick dip in the water (we had worn swimsuits beneath our clothes). I waded out into what looked like calm water, only to realize that there was a fairly strong river current. The current carried me out into the river, where the water was too deep for wading. I managed to get out of the current, but being that I can barely swim, I could not make it back to the shore. Fortunately someone else in the area had a life vest and tossed it to me, allowing me to make it back to land. I hope I remembered to thank these kind people for coming to my rescue that day.

7

Amazing for age 2. I wish I had been able to relax and enjoy that creek more. Maybe it was the suddenness of breathing water that kept me from being more appreciative.

I do suspect that that fairly early trauma has kept me from being any more together when something shocking happens. I rarely have what it takes to be “cool under fire.” I tend to panic and act erratically.

8

Yes, a very close call. Previously posted in this thread:

9

I was very young, learning to swim in the public swimming pool. I had those inflatable armbands to keep me afloat. I had the bright idea of putting them on ankles, and jumping in. Result: little Peter head downward in the water, feet sticking up.

Don’t laugh. Its not funny. :frowning:

10

Wierdly enough, I have never come close to drowning in my memory. I know I could already swim when I was 5. The closest I’ve come is swimming across Walden Pond, and getting a little tired on the way back (I think it’s about 1/2 mile across). I rested by floating with a little light back stroking and made it back just fine.

11

This is the thread I posted a few years back, right after almost drowning.

12

My first (and so far only) trip down the Upper Gauley in West Virginia. At the first Class V rapid (named Insignificant) I paddled over a pourover at the top and got trapped in a nasty hole. I rolled once and then bailed out of my kayak. Insignificant is a fairly long rapid and I swam the whole thing. I was pulled under by the current for most of the trip and was able to fight my way to the surface a couple times for a quick breath before being pulled back down. It seemed like slow motion and I remember thinking how quiet and peaceful it seemed underwater compared to the roar above. Slammed into a few rocks on the way too.

13

I used to be very afraid of swimming. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the swimming “lessons” I recieved as a child. I only recall one lesson – I was maybe 4 or 5 – where they just sorta threw me in the water and expected me to know what I was doing. I remember sitting in the shower afterwards crying, wearing a Cabbage Patch Kids swimsuit. I’m pretty sure my parents took me out of lessons after that one.

Another time: I went to a small private school out here in the desert. The proprietors of which had a pool and they’d have all the kids out once a year. They even had a water slide! Oh boy, I thought! Didn’t realize it would dump me out in the deep end. The principal had to grab me out of the water. I think I was 6 or 7.

All I really remember of both of these incidents is panicking, hearing the muffled sounds through the water, blue fading to black.

Despite all that, I’m a fairly decent swimmer nowadays (read: I don’t sink like a rock), and strangely only had a fear of pools (they don’t bother me anymore, I just don’t care for the chlorine much). Lakes and rivers don’t bother me, and I adore swimming and playing in the ocean.

14

A friend of the family dove into water never checking how deep it was. (Not sure if this was a pool, or not). He became a parapalegic (sp?) because the water was too shallow.

Please, all, don’t be stupid about water safety no matter where you are…life isn’t very forgiving.

  • Jinx
15

A cousin’s dentist’s assistant was swept off the rocky coast of Nova Scotia into the Atlantic by a rogue wave. I don’t even know if a body was ever found. Not a pleasant thought, I know. For those of you who are all “guts and glory” and decide to explore the rocks along any coastline, never take your eyes off the waves…

  • Jinx
16

Not so much a near drowning incident but a oh-shit-how-do-I-get-out-of-this incident.

I grew up in New England and spent a couple weeks on Cape Cod every summer so I’m totally comfortable swimming in the ocean, body surfing, etc. A few years ago, I was in Chincoteague, Virginia swimming in very rough surf–there was a hurricane down in Florida that was churning up the water. Getting into the water was the usual drill–find a break in the surf and dive in, then swim past the break point. So far so good. When it came time to get OUT of the water, I just couldn’t do it–the undertow was too strong and kept pullling me back. Finally, I realized I had to literally ride a wave onto the shore, which I did–got thrown onto the beach and crawled out of the surf.

17

Hoo boy. This is a doozy. I originally told it in this thread, and don’t feel like typing it all again, so I just copied and pasted it here. BTW, I can swim, but the…er…circumstances were against me in this situation.

This is the tale of why I will never ever again go to a waterpark. This is long and gruelling.

When I was 16, me and 3 of my friends went to a local waterpark. This was kind of the poor man’s waterpark, the kind you take your kids to when they’re screaming to go somewhere and you’d rather not pay 16 bucks a head to get into SuperSplash World or what have you.

Anyway, the day started off fine enough. Went there, got into our swimsuits, went to check out the wave pool. The place was totally packed that day, too. Kids everywhere, and two tour groups, one bus full of old people and another full of developmentally challenged youth. Remember this, because it becomes part of the story in a bit.

So we’re in the wave pool, having a grand time. You could rent out inner tubes to ride the waves on, and lots of people had. Several jerks went right overtop of me in their tubes, pushing me underwater. This started to dampen my day. Then the waves started up, and my one friend noticed an…object in the water being pushed towards us by the waves. We watched, trying to determine what it was. At first we thought it was a leaf, but then realized with horror, as it got closer, that it was a very large, chunky turd.

Panic. We turn around and start swimming fast to shore. A large wave goes over my head and I swallow a bunch of water. As I come up gasping for breath, another wave goes over me, repeat effect. At this time I am seriously drowning and my friend is laughing at me because of the funny faces I’m making. I notice the lifeguards are blissfully unaware as they are busy looking at the sky. Somehow we finally stumble onto shore, having escaped the turd. By now, all the water I’ve swallowed plus the thought of what was IN that water begins to make me dry retch. People suntanning on the “beach” watch with interest as I heave all over the place. I manage to keep my puke down, and we decide it’s safer to go relax in the hot tub, which is near the wave pool.

So we’re in there, recovering from our race to shore. About 6 of the aforementioned developmentally challenged teens join us. This is fine, until one of them slides over to my friend and puts his arm around her, asking if she has a boyfriend. Of course, their supervisor is not paying attention, wandering around nearby. Another one of the teens then gets her attention by loudly announcing that he has just gone pee. We exit the hot tub.

So then we think, waterslides. The waterslides should be fine, right? So we go get in line for those. As we are waiting in line, a little boy ahead of us yells that he has to go to the bathroom. A girl behind him (who I assume to be his sister) answers, “Just go on the slide, that’s what I do.”

Ok, so forget the waterslides. In fact, we decide to quit the water altogether and go jump around in the playground, which we are much too large for at this time, but hey, why not. After some time we notice the ball pit. Whee, a ball pit! Irresistible! It’s unoccupied, so we dive in and start jumping around. Shortly, one of my friends stops bouncing and gets an odd look on her face.

“What?” I ask.

“I think some kid shit in here,” She said.

We all laughed. “Yeah, right.”

She then held up her hand to reveal it smeared with utter, utter nastiness.

That’s when we decided to leave. And that’s when I decided to never set foot in another waterpark.

18

Many years ago when I was in my mid to late 20’s I went to the beach with friends. As a teenager I had been a competitive swimmer and I have a Life Saving Bronze Medallion so I am a far better than average swimmer. While swimming around out near the line of the breaking surf I found myself caught in a rip and could feel myself being dragged out to sea.

I knew what to do - swim parallel to the beach until I got out of the rip - but unfortunately I overdid the don’t panic part of it. By the time I had swum out of the rip at a nice leisurely pace I was several hundred yards from the beach. It then dawned on me that since I was a lazy, smoking non-athlete these several hundred yards were just about the limit of my capacity.

It took me a very long time to swim back to the beach, involving lots of floating to regain my breathe between spurts of actual swimming. I often marvel at the fact that vanity prevented me from signalling for help when it was obviously what I should have done. When I gotinto water shallow enough to sit in, I just flopped down and sat for a long long time before I had the energy to walk back to my towel.

19

When I was about four or five years old, my mom’s company had a company picnic at Willow Creek Provincial Park near Fort Macleod, Alberta. It’s now called something else, Zoeteman park or something. Anyway, as the former name implied, there was a ‘creek’ there. It was more on the scale of the Mississippi to my eyes at the time. I stayed very close to the edge of the water, not wanting to be stuck on the other side.

Somehow, and I can not remember how now, I ended up being pulled by a pretty strong current. I was not able to swim, and so I did what any five-year-old would naturally do: I put up my fingers like they did in the cartoons. You know, 1, go down; 2, go down; 3, wave as you sink under for the final time. Well, at three, I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t down for good, and started flailing. Mom noticed and started yelling, but she’s not a swimmer and couldn’t get to me fast enough.

A nearby Big boy, who was probably about six or seven years older than me, dove in and swam out, and pulled me out of the water. His name was Murray Pelletier. I have never, ever forgotten that he rescued me. Even when I was a teenager and he was a creepy drunk guy hitting on me at a party, I remembered, and didn’t do my usual attitude-filled rebuff. I just gently reminded him that I was the little kid he pulled out of the creek. He remembered and went off to hit on someone else.

30 years later, I remember Murray Pelletier. I wonder what he’s up to these days.

20

I was recycled in the hole at the base of Temagami’s Island Falls until a friend paddled over and trolled for me with his stern line. I was blacking out as I grabbed it.

On another occasion, my paddle was torn away while running Temagami’s Double Drop,which resulted in my being pinned. Fortunately, I was able to pivot the hull enough to be pushed off. I then I hand rolled up while running out of air, found my paddle beside me, and with much relief paddled away.

Here are some photos of the scenes (the fellow running Double Drop is the one who rescued me from under Island Falls): http://my.tbaytel.net/culpeper/Temagami.html