@Polaris: Ay caramba! Did you get any good photo's of the polar bears though?
The waters are indeed very dangerous, especially to those who don't know them.
I swam out to a small rocky outcrop off the beach as I wanted a spectacular panoramic view of the sea and it's surroundings. It was a long tiring swim which probably took me 5 minutes or so, but felt like so much longer. I remember feeling foolish for thinking it would be so close. I persevered and eventually made it to to the rocks, exhausted. After relaxing to a state of normalcy I enjoyed the view, basking in the tranquility brought from such a beautiful location in isolation.
After a while I noticed the the tide was coming in, and the beaches surrounding the tiny island rock I was atop of had started to submerge. I realised I had to get back fast and that it was already a long way which was about to get a lot worse. I wasn't particularly worried, or panicked at the time, there was no room for those thoughts. I jumped straight in and started the ever so long, grueling process of swimming to shore. I was grateful that I felt rejuvenated from the last swim, but knew it would not last.
I felt drained after only a few meters, the current was stronger and required more effort, yet I was trying not to exert the extra effort as I knew I had to pace myself, use the minimum possible and still get somewhere.
It felt endless, the shore still looked close but I must of been maybe only a quarter of the way and losing energy fast. The gates of negativity were opening and flooding my mind with terrible thoughts. Panic stricken I swam harder, straining against what felt like close to the physical limit. I am not a good swimmer.
Still, it's surprising far the limit can stretch in cases of such desperation. Everything hurt, muscles burnt, chest heaving, tight cold pitiful breaths. I found myself stopping to tread water more and more often in a vain attempt to save myself from myself and all that surrounded me.
Some how, I got far enough to stand and by some miracle a local spotted me, swam out and near enough dragged me to shore, where I flopped.
The beach had been deserted when I left, I was extremely lucky to have been spotted when I had; I'm forever grateful.
Aside from that, the only other time is something from early childhood which I don't remember. My father was vacuuming the attic which had the cord running through the hatch into the room below. I sat below the ladder, playing with the cord. I had decided it would be a good idea to tug it, repeatedly until it dragged the cleaner, which was on wheels to the edge of the hatch. It then toppled and fell directly above where I sat, blissfully unaware. By my good fortune the ladder intercepted it's fall, bouncing it to land heavily somewhere next to me, instead of squashing.
I am not afraid to walk beneath ladders, I do not see them unlucky, as a lot do.