On the day Mick Campbell flirted with death and Tah sent death packing…

It was the day before my birthday, three days after we'd just got back from our Indo trip. A good swell looked like it was hitting the coast, so we jumped straight in the car and headed to our favorite slab, a right-hander off a break wall. The next morning, Mick, myself, and my mum paddled out early. It was messy, about six- to eight-foot wash-throughs on the wall, but a few crackers. We surfed for hours.

Mick paddled for this one wave. It was heavy. Six or eight waves went through and no sign of Mick. My stomach dropped. I couldn’t see him, but I knew something wasn’t right.

I paddled in as fast as I could. Then spotted his board—it wasn’t tombstoning—and I saw him floating face down. I paddled faster and faster. When I got to him he was unconscious, dead to my eyes. His blue eyes open, foam coming out of him, his mouth completely full of water. I thought I had lost my best friend. I thought he was dead.

I grabbed him by his wetsuit and wrapped my hand in it to keep my grip. He was so heavy. I was punching on his chest, screaming to him, “There's nothing wrong with you! Just come back! Just come back!”

I punched his chest for five minutes. Still nothing. He was gone. Six-foot swells were washing us up the breakwall. I punched and punched. Then a bubble came up through the foam in his mouth. Water started to pour out but he was still unconscious.

A young fella had just paddled out. I screamed for him to help. He paddled over and helped me get Mick on my board. Mick still wasn’t responding. His eyes were open and he was blue, but his body was coughing up water. I knew I had to try and resuscitate him out there. He was seconds from dying. I laid on Mick and the young fella pushed behind me.

After about five minutes of us paddling and pushing, Mick coughed and came conscious. He was drowning in all the water in his body. He couldn’t breathe or talk. We paddled for 20 minutes against that current. It didn’t feel like we were going to get in, but we kept pushing. The ocean gave in and let us through to the shore. We dragged Mick up the beach. I couldn’t feel my legs from kicking. I couldn’t walk. I grabbed him and laid him on his side and started rubbing the water out of him.

I looked into his eyes and said, “Don’t you fuckin’ close them, mate! Don’t you dare close those eyes!”

I just held him and made sure he stayed awake. The ambulance arrived another 20 minutes later. They put him on a stretcher and we carried him off the beach. I stayed in my wetty in the ambulance. We got to the hospital and they put him straight into a coma for four days. It was the heaviest thing I’ve ever had to go through. Almost losing my best mate in my arms made me appreciate life more than ever before. It made me not care about any of the material things that crowd our lives.