A Kiwi Tale

A Kiwi Tale

By Tom Redwitz


During the winter of 1978, Mark Klosterman and I traveled to the South Pacific to surf. We had heard about a lifeguard exchange program in New Zealand and thought it would be a great way to start our trip. We’d meet some fellow lifeguards, share ideas and have a place to stay as we explored a new country. In December we arrived in New Zealand to begin our adventure.

In the 70’s, professional lifeguarding was just a concept in New Zealand. “Lifesaving”, as it was more commonly called, was performed by volunteers. These were guys who loved to be at the beach, compete in ocean-orientated activities and “party hardy”. To attract participation, lifesaving clubs were typically established at the popular beaches with expansive clubhouses that facilitated large parties – picture a fraternity house, live bands, kegs of Red Lion lager and watermen in search of women.

Pihia (pronounced “pee-haa”) Lifesaving Club, on the west coast of New Zealand near the city of Auckland, was our first host while Mark and I were there and they generously offered to let us stay in the bunkroom of their clubhouse. Unfortunately, the clubhouse, perched on a bluff overlooking the coast, was showing signs of heavy wear and tear and had a swarm of mosquitoes hovering in the bunkroom. Making matters worse, our first night at Pihia, there was a raging party that made it impossible to go to sleep in the bunkroom. We were beat from traveling and after sizing up the situation, we realized we needed to find somewhere to sleep other than the clubhouse.

Being resourceful Laguna lifeguards, we located a small trailer parked on the sand by the water that served as a mobile lifesaving station. It was the type of travel trailer you might see being towed by a family on a fun summer camping trip. It was an ideal place for us to crash for the night, so we settled in and drifted off to sleep.

Just after dawn, we woke up to a person pounding on the trailer and yelling HELP! Mark and I stumbled out of bed and learned from the frantic man that he had been fishing from the shoreline a mile or so up the beach with his daughter and that she had been swept out to sea by a large wave. We quickly put on our Speedo’s, grabbed our fins and rescue tubes, and jumped into the man’s jeep so he could take us to the scene of the incident.

The beach at Pihia is like Huntington, long and flat. And the surf has multiple break lines both near the shore and far out. As we sped up the beach we could see the surf had picked up to about 10 feet and so we planned our strategy. I would swim to the outside surf line in case the girl was caught in a rip. Mark would search the wave zone closer to shore. Several moments after hitting the water, Mark caught a glimpse of dark hair tumbling in a wave, rushed toward it, grabbed the limp body of a young girl and pulled her to the beach. He immediately extended her neck to open an airway and gave her a few puffs of air. Fortunately, the girl regained consciousness and was soon being comforted by her grateful father.

The story would probably have ended there, one of countless rescues by Laguna lifeguards, except for the fact that a reporter happened to be passing by the scene as Mark and I pulled up and hit the water. She witnessed the whole rescue and thought it would make a great story for her paper, The New Zealand Herald. We agreed to meet her later that day for an interview about the rescue.

We spent quite a while with our new reporter friend explaining what had happened, our plan of attack and our actions at the rescue scene. We also shared with her our background in California and that we were participating in a lifeguard exchange program. During the course of the interview, she asked why we happened to be sleeping on the beach that particular night. This question caught us a little off guard because we certainly didn’t want to offend our host by saying the clubhouse was a dive or admit that we were party wimps and wanted to go to bed early. Mark, in a moment of inspiration, told a little white lie and confidently responded ” In California we believe in a ‘preventive’ form of lifesaving’ (which is true) and the surf was getting bigger (which was also true), and we decided we wanted to be on the beach just in case anything happened”.

The next day, our Pihia lifesaving friends presented us with that morning’s newspaper. There, on the front page, in two-inch high bold letters, read the headline “Lifeguards’ Decision To Stay Saves Life”. Also on the front page was a photograph of Mark and me in Speedo’s, down on one knee holding our rescue tubes. As if this wasn’t enough, The New Zealand Herald was a member of United Press International which daily shares the top news stories with its worldwide membership. Soon we began hearing that the story was in our local California newspapers and that Connie Chung reported it on the 6 o’clock evening news. My parents, who were vacationing in Hawaii at the time, had it flash across their hotel room TV. Mark’s dad heard our story over the radio while walking in Three Arch Bay.

Mark and I completed our lifeguard exchange duties over the following weeks as celebrity lifesavers. We eventually met up with fellow Laguna lifeguards Dick Johnson and John Gill, as well as San Clemente guard Larry Moore. We strapped five surfboards on the top of an Opel station wagon, taped an American flag to the car antenna and spent the next month exploring New Zealand for surf. That’s another lifeguard story.