Cold. That’s what I remember about the water that day. The waves were rough, so rough that each surfer disappeared into the valley of the waves that surrounded them. That day in Tofino, a surf town on the coast of Vancouver Island changed my outlook on everything. 

I don’t surf, neither does my brother, yet here we were at one of the premier surfing destinations in North America flying through the freezing water with wetsuits on. It seemed perfect, all of it. The scenery was straight out of a magazine, with forested mountains and scenic beaches surrounding us. The only downside was not having any feeling in our fingers. As I decided to take another wave everything seemed normal, but I quickly overestimated my novice abilities. My brother soon fell victim to the same fate, and as we paddled to shore I heard him shout an urgent cry. 

“MOVE!”

I quickly turned around to see the tip of a surfboard cruising straight for me. I ducked, my reflexes guiding me the whole way, as his tailfin grazed my scalp leaving me virtually untouched. Two inches. Two inches higher and I would have been unconscious and in the hospital or maybe facing an even more grim fate. 

That moment was my first brush with real danger. A moment that had the potential to change my life forever. A moment that I look back on and wonder what would have happened if only I hadn’t happened to duck those extra two inches?