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One of the stories parents repeat for their kiddies to be able to tell them about the dangers the sea covers, I'd the satisfaction of experience when I was a teenager and not yet a strong believer that probably the most precious element of my country, its sea, might really trigger me or my family any harm. Not that I was from a category of sailors or that my father was a leader of a big ship or such a thing like that, but primarily because both of my parents were considering themselves to be seekers, people of the shore and the unfamiliar dark blue waters. Particularly my dad, who used to become a very experienced scuba diver was always desperate to give a lesson" to us while we were going with this small, but very loved, fishing boat. 

The summer that I was planning to turn fifteen and my cousin was very nearly twelve, my dad decided that we have loved the island's shores long enough and we were ready to get our first practical beach training. We boarded our little vessel and after following my father's expert advice, we begun our trip to the unknown clear blue sea. Our goal was to see another little island, not a long way away from the one we lived during our summer vacations, and discover, through practical training, some essential things he has been explaining to us over time. From the looking at the horizon and getting captivated by its beauty. Like it was yesterday, the way the clear light blue sky produced a white line at the main point where it was united with the darker blue sea I still remember. The wind softly helped our purpose to leave the harbor and though there was undoubtely always something I had to do or watch somebody else doing while I was on board, I could still taste the salt from the water falls that traveled through the wind and dried on my lips. In fact, that long boat journey was the first time that I felt part of nature; a of that absolutely and beautiful landscape, a hundred percent, alive. 
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A little more than one hour later we managed to approach the empty small area we planned that day to visit and my dad screamed -probably due to the wind which was getting stronger- that he was aware of a beautiful sandy beach where we might camp for the rest of the day. Everything went in line with the original plan and foot was successfully set by us on that virgin coast to savor the hot day and cool-down by diving to the ocean depths to enjoy sooner its beauty. My brother screamed joyfully as he got from the ship to the beach and later I was determined to leap from when I found that I could climb the rocks that surrounded the ignored beach a much larger level. Nevertheless the experience was going to begin. 

When we decided to keep the warmth and friendly shore we have used a lot more than three hours, my father discovered that our little boat engine wasn't working. After multiple attempts to begin the engine that would support us safely return home, I realized that he was now stressed that he had to sail back only by pulling the boat's two oars. He succeeded in leading the ship out to deeper water and only then we noticed that the ocean curves were so powerful that it had been difficult for all of us to get home safely that way. Additionally, the wind velocity kept increasing and in place of moving towards the direction we wanted it seemed like we were moving further and further away. Fortunately my father didn't give up hope. He continued to attempt to keep our spirits up and laugh through this sea adventure, but that glance explained more than words could ever describe, when I found his eyes looking very seriously at the specific situation. That was the idea that I got scared and thought that there was really possible folks never returning. Although I was not doubting that my father could direct us to safety and I could not think that such a tragedy could ever function as the real situation I would have to confront -after all I was with my superhero dad- a inside my head kept yelling that I had to remain calm and help his efforts in whatever way I could when we were to produce it. Actually, while he was trying to get the engine to start, my brother and I used the oars and tried to pull them together towards the coast. We were almost hanging from the boat and supporting his initiatives using our hands as two extra oars, one from each side of the boat, when my dad was in charge. We did precisely what he directed and three hours later, we were within our island's harbor. My dad kept yelling "the coast is close" and the sound of his speech gave us the required courage to help keep oaring with your hands. Three and a hours later we was able to move off the boat. Needless to say that our sea experience was the highlight of that year's summer holidays, but most importantly it taught us a massive practical training. Never take any such thing for granted when visiting unidentified waters; just like in life.