The old man and the sea …

So it’s about two and a half years since I joined my local surf lifesaving club. Originally I signed up because I wanted to help out with Nippers, because the sprog was attending. But the sprog didn’t like Nippers much and he dropped it after one season, but I found out that I rather liked it. I did my Bronze Medallion, then my IRB crewman, then defib, spinal and senior first aid awards. This year I added beach management to the list, which means that I can be a patrol captain.

Today, however, I took a new test – IRB driver. I’ve been building up to this one since pretty much my first days on the beach here. Way back when we first visited this area (five years ago now), we paid a visit to nearby Gerroa and the surf club were there doing IRB drills. As they bombed around in the surf, flying over the top of waves, I thought to myself – that’s the life for me. Then, shortly after I started training for my Bronze, nearly three years ago, I got to crew the IRB and found out that it was as much fun as it looked. Scary as fuck on many an occasion, but fun.

Over the last couple of years I’ve attended various events around these parts, in the capacity of crewman in the IRB. Whenever the opportunity arose I’d hold my hand up and volunteer. I’ve blogged about the Huskisson Triathlon which takes place in February every year and is a really good laugh. But as much fun as crewing is, I was very jealous of the drivers. I’ve never been a very good passenger and after a while, it started to grate on me. So I decided to pull my finger out and get on with my drivers award.

So for the last four months or so, every Sunday, I’ve been down at the beach here doing my IRB drills. The first thing I learnt, when I took that drivers seat at the rear of the boat, is that the guys who I’d watched all those years ago at Gerroa were pretty fucking good and had made it look far too easy. Driving a little inflatable boat out through the surf, negotiating the break, punching through waves – these are not things that came naturally to me! It’s not like I’ve been a lifelong surfer or anything – I came to that very late in life on our many holidays to Cornwall.

The first thing you learn as a surfer is how to read the surf – to know where to  paddle out, to time the sets so you dont’ get smashed by the shore break on your way out the back, to spot the rip so you get an easy paddle. I’ve had to learn all that from scratch – particularly since the beach here, as I’ve pointed out before, can be a complete fucker. Anyway – reading the surf becomes doubly important in an IRB since you’re not just responsible for yourself, but for your crewman/woman and potentially any patients you pick up in the surf.

Depending on how big the surf is on any given day, it’s a real art getting that boat out through the waves. I’ve had a great time learning how far you can push that boat too. I don’t think there’s many people who’ve crewed for me that I haven’t jettisoned from the boat in spectacular fashion on one occasion or another. Nobody minded of course, because you have to learn what the limits are so that you can drive just inside them.

Driving an IRB means getting out through the break, driving to where you’re required (often in a holding pattern if it’s a club day) and getting back to the beach safely. It means paying very close attention to what’s going on around you – not only the waves, but the surfers and swimmers in the water. But there’s also the behind the scenes stuff too – prepping the boat, troubleshooting engine issues.

There are many elements to the IRB driver’s exam – first you do a pre-course booklet which basically qualifies you to drive on the river. Then you’re supposed to do a larger log book over the (several months duration of your course). In reality I did both those books last week. So first your books get checked, then you sit a 40 question exam on things like search and rescue, code of conduct etc. Once the assessor’s happy with your paperwork, you move outside and do prep drills.

During prep one of the most important elements that you’re quizzed on is the roll-over procedure for the engine. There’s a very specific order you have to do things in. Once the assessor’s happy that you know your prep, you get suited and booted and actually take the boat out into the surf.

We were fairly lucky with the weather. The swell was fairly kind (though it had its moments) but there was very little wind, the sun was shining, the temperature was about 21c and we were blessed with lovely warm water courtesy of an unseasonal current direct from sub-tropical Queensland. I was taking the driver’s test with Matt and one of the club’s young-uns, was doing his crew exam. Matt went out first and had no trouble doing his crewed run in and out of the break, parallel runs, turn and run from waves, punch through etc. Then he did his solo drive which went okay too.

So after Matt’s turn I did my crewed run, which went fine. And then I had to do my solo. Unfortunately, at that moment, the gods of the swell decided to play a trick on me and sent endless shore-dumping 1.5m waves into the breakzone. I just couldn’t break through. When you’re driving solo you can’t punch through a wave like you can with a crewman, so you have to wait for your moment and gun it when you get the opportunity. Only that opportunity never came. As one big wave broke practically on the shore, I drove the boat in to catch my breath. The examiner, I was told, wasn’t concerned – I’d behaved sensibly. So I hopped back in  for round two – just as the swell died down. I gunned it and made it out the back without further incident. The assessor had me do a few parallel runs etc, but I’d spent so long in the shore break beforehand that I knew I could handle that okay and he waved me in mercifully quickly.

So then it was on to the resuces. An unconcious patient in the green water and a conscious patient in the break. Matt went first, with me as crew and James as patient. All went well until the return to shore when a wave sucked out at the last minute and Matt was nearly thrown out of the boat (normally an instant fail). Then we switched around, me as driver, James as crew, Matt as patient. That went well too. We all returned to shore.

So practical over, we took the boat up to the shed for post-patrol shakedown and paperwork – then we were told to go off and get showered and changed. On return we were greeted with a celebratory beer from the bar and were told we’d all passed. Hurrah! I’m very pleased I’ve finally got there and am now a card-carrying Silver Medallion lifesaver. When the carnival season rolls around again in a few months time I can drive the boat. Not only that, but I can now do my jetski and jetboat awards if I want to. We’re doing an induction on the jetboat at the start of the new season in September and I’ll decide then if it’s something I want to pursue.

The club’s also keen on getting into the IRB racing scene. Now that we’ve got a few willing drivers and plenty of able crew, it’s something worth considering. It is not, however, a sport for the faint-hearted as the image above conveys far better than words could …

Oh yea, and in light of my amazing work throwing people out of the boat this season in my IRB training – I was awarded the ‘Not the Clubman of the Year’ award. Rather fetching, don’t you think?