“Danger in Paradise”

“Danger in Paradise”

By Charlie Ware

September 28, 2009

As one of the first four Rookies in 1968, my duty was to report to Main HQ each morning by 10am and work out for the first hour prior to hiking to the outer beaches to provide relief to the “regular guards” through out the day. At 16 years old, each and every day, lifeguarding was met with great appreciation. Most of my first few days on the job were filled with learning from the veterans on each beach and attending routine training sessions. I was told by most seasoned guards that many had not had to respond to a major incident each summer and that outside of the occasional big surf rescue, the days in the sun were mundane. I believed that, except Dale Ghere’s training had emphasized constant vigilance. Even more so, when the surf was flat and all appeared well. Those words couldn’t have rang more true than on a packed 4^th of July weekend my first summer in the chair. Getting to the Dante’s tower (that’s what it was called back then due to it’s location right in front of Dante’s Bar and Restaurant next to Hotel Laguna) by early afternoon to spell the guard for an half hour would be just as simple as the previous three stations on that Coney Island like day, I thought. The gay party was raging at Dante’s with an over flow crowd on the patio and music blasting through out the beach. A large luxury sail boat had anchored a few dozen yards out just to the south of the tower with strapping young party goers swimming back and forth to the beach and up to grab a cocktail or two. I followed each swimmer back and forth as they churned in the water and each group managed to make the trek with some degree of effort, except for one. After slowly dog paddling to shore a slender, Speedo clad reveler, began crawling on all fours up the wet sand only to collapse face up with exhaustion. I threw the phone to alert the need for back up and raced to the waters edge and notice he was unresponsive I gave him two puffs of air and his eyes flashed open and he calmly remarked he was OK and just need to rest a bit. Was this some sick ploy? His buddies carried him to the dry sand as Punky Parlett arrived in the unit with the resuscitator. He waved us off and said he was fine. The ambulance was sent away and Punky advised me to watch him as he laid there trying to recover from his taxing swim. Not two minutes had passed and along with the gathering crowd, I noticed his eyes closed and his lips turning blue. I began rescue breathing and by the short time Punky had returned with oxygen he was self breathing and transported to SC Hospital for a full recovery. My first real medical aid rescue and I almost walked a way too early thinking I had done it right. As I let my nerves settle down a bit in the chair, I recalled Dale’s training words of being constantly vigilant even in the most pristine settings. I learned very early that looks can be deceiving and that there is the possibility of danger in paradise.