Rescue

In the summer of 1967 my wife’s family rented a beach-side cabin at Oceanside not far from the pier. Sheila was very pregnant with our first child, and spent much of the week playing Hearts in the sand with her sisters and mother. It was my misfortune to be finishing up my California State teaching credential at the University of Redlands, and the week was the last one for summer school. I spent the first weekend bodysurfing with one of my athletes from Hemet High, Steve Sears, whose family, along with several other Hemet families were also staying in Oceanside. I missed a couple of days of some of the most perfect surf ever.

Steve had been a promising jumper/hurdler as a freshman. At the end of the week at the beach he informed me his family was moving to the San Diego area. I wouldn’t see him again until his senior year, when he attended the Hemet graduation ceremonies. He had grown to 6’ 2” and qualified for the state meet in the high hurdles. A great kid, he would have been a joy to coach.

I was able to spend the last day with the family in Oceanside. This particular day Steve and I were bodysurfing some of the biggest waves I’d ever been on, huge foaming rollers that you could take straight on because the break was so gradual. The bottom in Oceanside, at least at that time caused the waves to break twice. This meant that if you were a strong swimmer you could catch the second break and ride it all the way to the beach. The downside to this was that you also had to be strong swimmer to return over 75 yards to the main break. That route back out took awhile and was guaranteed to tire you out.

It was 11:00am. Steve and I had been in since 9:00am. We coated our noses in zinc oxide, the sunblock of the 60s and started at the pier 200 yards from our towels. The break would carry us past our towels nearly all the way to the jetty, a distance I would conservatively estimate as a half mile. At this point we would get out and walk all the way back to the pier. We had repeated the process several times.

At about this time then, the biggest wave set of the day appeared outside us and we swam hard up the wave face to avoid having it break in front of us. We just had time to set up in the pocket for the second wave, and we both caught it and rode it away from the break. I pulled up and rolled under it, breaking through the water just in time to see the white water of another monster rolling toward me. Steve caught the second wave all the way to the beach while I turned and sprinted for the wave outside.

I managed to duck under it, but I was in position for the next wave when I looked inside to see two swimmers pulled by the outwash rip rushing quickly toward me. They had been taking the smaller shore break when the enormous amount of water that came inside with the massive set of waves created a rip and pulled them out beyond their zone of comfort. The wave broke squarely on the two swimmers, who I could see were girls. I dropped out of the wave and came up in the whitewater close to where I thought the girls would be.

“Help,” yelled the first girl, who I immediately recognized as Molly Ryan, a girl who had been in my class the previous year. I was good friends with her brother Patrick, who was a vaulter on our track team and had been a star in both football and basketball. We played basketball at the high school gym almost every Saturday morning, my main form of inexpensive recreational exercise in inland Hemet. One really great benefit of being a coach was a key to the gym.

I quickly swam over to Molly.

"Where's Peggy?" she shouted.

“You OK? I asked, and looked in the direction of where her sister had emerged from the whitewater and was struggling toward us.

“I think so, but Peggy is really scared.”

“I’ll go get her, swim OUT.”

“What?”

“You want to be OUTSIDE the break,” I yelled. At this point another huge wave crested as Molly swam toward it.

“Go UNDER it,” I said, as I reached Peggy. I got an arm around her waist just as the wave broke in front of us. I had to hang on really tight to keep from losing her. When we came up I put her in a carry just like I’d been taught. We swam directly toward the wave that was building outside. I swam hard up the steep face because I didn’t want to pull Peggy under again. We just barely avoided the niagara behind us and we able to reach a safe zone out beyond the break.

Molly had done what I told her and we linked up with her outside of the heavy surf, both of them really tired and hanging on to me. By this time Molly was much calmer, but Peggy had spent some time in the spin cycle before I was able to reach her and she had probably looked back as I towed her up the face of the wave. She stared at me with wide eyes while coughing up sea water. Steve was too far away to help, but I could see him sprinting for the lifeguard tower.

“We’re fine here, just hang on to my shoulders, we’re going to rest. Look, I’ve got fins on the size of water skis. I could tow you all the way to that island out there. We’ll wait till the surf subsides and then swim in together. There’s no hurry.”

I looked inside for the lifeguards, but no one was on the way. At Newport, they have a rescue boat for these situations, but a quick look around showed no boat. And so we waited, but the surf didn’t subside much. The average that day was probably too big for the girls; even though the break was gentle it was powerful. The girls caught their breath, and seemed calmer. At last, there was a pause and it was time to get to shore.

“OK, here we go, swim hard and stay close to me.”

Molly took off as wave built outside us but Peggy looked back at the wave, half the size of the biggest but probably bigger than anything she had ever tried. She wouldn’t let go of my shoulders. I turned to face her.

“Look at me. Focus here. We’re fine. We’ll catch the next wave. See, Molly’s already to the second break. Take a big breath and just hang on tight to me.”

Before Peggy could say anything I quickly turned, made sure she had a good grip, and kicked into the wave. With her hanging on tightly, we slid rapidly down the face of the wave and away from the break. The wave lost momentum, and we reached the relatively safe zone between the two breaks. I thought about trying to catch the second break, but Peggy’s drag on me was too great. Nevertheless, we were out of harm's way. I checked to see that Molly had made it to shore easily.

“You OK?” I asked.

“That was amazing,” she managed to gasp.

“Take that as a Yes.”

I could see three lifeguards were swiftly headed our way at last. They reached us and before I could argue the biggest one of them put me in a carry and started pulling me toward shore.

“Leggo,” I said.

“What?”

“I said let go, I’m fine,” and when he did I swam back out toward the big waves. It was after all, the last day of our rental.

Later on the beach I walked by where the Hemet group was camped. Sheila and her sisters were there. I learned that

·         the girls were fine,

·         they were never really in any trouble.

·         nobody had been scared at all

In the course of the conversation, Molly did wink at me. No need to scare the parents.

I taught at Hemet High School for two more years. I went to grad school in Connecticut, and when we returned we moved closer to the beach and I finished my teaching career at Corona del Mar High School in Newport Beach. Much, much later I learned that Peggy Ryan had purchased a surfboard and had become quite accomplished. Inevitably her nickname became Gidget.