When my twin brother and I were 16, we almost drown in the surf in Carmel Bay. 

Inexperienced as we were, the ocean looked perfect to body surf that cold Fall afternoon.  Without wetsuits or fins, we swam, or more accurately, were dragged out to the breakers by a viscous undertow.  A challenging romp in the ocean had in a few minutes become a serious matter.  I knew that I had to catch one of those mountainous waves and be swept to shore by it.

I saw my brother catch one, and he was on his way.  I was completely alone, and drowning was a real possibility.  Up until that point, we could see each other, and there was reassurance in that. I decided I'd catch the next wave, no matter what, and in fact I did.  It carried me halfway to shore, but I was dragged back out to sea. It didn't help that the water temperature was in the mid to upper 50's, and I was a scrawny kid.  After fighting to stay in some sort of position to catch the right wave by either diving under or swimming through or over each one,  I was caught by a wave--a very large one--and it carried me all the way to shore.  I was washed upon the sand, and, exhausted and gasping,  I lifted my head and looked to my left to see my twin brother not ten feet from me, lifting his head and looking at me with the same stunned expression on his face that I knew was on mine.  He was my mirror image.  Of the dozens of breakers we tried to catch or avoid that day, we were delivered to safety by the same one.

Later, my brother told me that he also had watched me catch a wave, and had experienced the same fear of being in the treacherous surf alone.