It was the blackest moment in his life. When he recovered he was so grateful he bought a sea kayak to enjoy the euphoria of dawn on the water every day.

Born and raised in Newcastle, he belonged to the wet-suited surfers brigade which gathers at sunrise beyond the breakers.

Many years later in Canberra he'd forgotten that sort of fulfilment until his life-threatening fight with testicular cancer.

In September 2010, while at work, soreness alerted him that something was amiss. He was scheduled for surgery early the following year, but an avocado-sized tumour grew so painful he admitted himself to hospital. A urology team removed his left testicle the following day.

Recovering later, the gritty construction worker and now teacher at Canberra Institute of Technology, drove himself to and from nauseating cycles of chemotherapy, expecting the worst. He parked his car on the other side of the ovals near the hospital to ensure a long enough walk after six hours of chemotherapy, to avoid vomiting in the car.

Entering the oncology unit's ward 14B, Mr Jurak would say: ''G'day ladies, I wouldn't miss this for the world.''

He'd look on either side of him in the ward to see other people in a worse state.

''It's easy to sit in the corner and suck your thumb and go boo hoo hoo, why me? Why did I get it?''

Coming home from chemotherapy one day he reckons he looked like an attack of the walking zombies, but still managed to buy his kayak.

''I have wanted to do it for years. I thought to myself, why not, let's make a change. I am impulsive at the best of times.''

Six months after recovering, cancer returned so aggressively he was grateful for more chemotherapy, describing it as napalm for the body.

While not commenting specifically on Mr Jurak, oncologist Professor Robin Stuart-Harris says he advises cancer patients to lead as normal a life as possible, to talk to people, rather than hiding away in the house and isolating themselves.

''There's some emerging evidence, particularly in breast cancer, perhaps in other cancers as well, that physical activity is good.

''We don't know why, perhaps it is good because it limits obesity.''

In September last year Mr Jurak recovered enough to get into the kayak.

The 44-year-old Ainslie father-of-three launches at Menindee Park, paddles to Black Mountain Peninsula, to Yarralumla and if time permits to Scrivener Dam and back.

He marvels at the lakeside backdrops and photographs rich orange and blue landscapes each morning for his blog on The Canberra Times website.

''Some of the sunsets have been stunning, some mornings when the sun burns through the fog, really heavy fog, it's beautiful,''.

His wife Julie Mayhew sometimes wonders where he is and rings his mobile phone.

''I'll be just sitting like a piece of stone. It will be dead calm like a sheet of glass. You look from outside the lake in and think, 'Oh yeah it's the water'. From inside out, it is totally different. Canberra is not just roundabouts and politicians.''