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Hero is a deceptive word. It evokes images of Lycra-clad, muscle-bound
men flying through the sky to save damsels in distress with their
super-human strength. But what about the heroes that walk among
us, the heroes who push themselves to the limit without so much
as a theme tune to drown out the sound of the wind and rain?
It’s hard to picture Spiderman hauling himself out of bed
on a grey, wet Saturday morning to train would-be heroes or Superman
steering a rescue boat through a blanket of fog, his features barely
discernable as he peers through a slit in his hood. And then there’s
Wonder Woman. Her sex-symbol status would be blown out of the water
if she was spotted huddled in a corner nursing fingers the colour
of her star-spangled hot pants.
Okay, so maybe we’re pushing it there. In truth, that numb,
shivering creature doesn’t actually belong to the group. That’s
me, along for the ride on a training session with the Royal National
Lifeboat Institution: our everyday heroes of the sea.
It’s 8.30am on a typically miserable Saturday, but Poole’s
lifeboat crew are full of life, laughing and joking as they don
their waterproofs. Comfort (and fashion) must be sacrificed for
practicality as my already waterlogged jeans cling to my legs inside
bright yellow wellies. The plan is to practise mooring skills in
the harbour before heading out to sea. But the first task of the
day is a rather solemn one, as the crew have been asked to scatter
the ashes of a long-term RNLI supporter. As the family look on,
I realise that lives are not only saved by these individuals but
honoured and remembered too.
The majority of RNLI lifeboat crew are volunteers and work full-time
jobs as well as manning the seas. Builders, technicians and engineers
drop their tools at the beep of a pager, racing to the station to
beat the 8-minute time limit.
It is surely a quality of a hero to brave the seas in all weather
conditions with no financial incentive. Admittedly, Spiderman doesn’t
technically receive any payment either, but I’m sure Peter
Parker has a nice bonus for all those photographs of our web-slinging
friend.
So apart from escaping work for a couple of hours, what’s
to motivate our volunteers? Every superhero has a horde of fans,
fame, and of course he always gets the girl. Sadly, such glamour
does not extend to the Channel.
Coxswain Jonathan Clark, RNLI member for 25 years, said: ‘You
might not know why you’re here doing this until you bring
your first person back to shore who’s been missing or in trouble
and you see their family’s reaction. The looks on their faces
bring it all into perspective.’
And of course there’s the adrenaline rush of being out on
the waves.
Trainee Wayne Belcher said: ‘It’s quite exciting going
out on the boat, and it feels like you’re giving something
back to the community.’
The skills to save someone’s life at sea aren’t developed
overnight, the result of exposure to a potentially lethal substance,
nor are they a gift bestowed upon you at birth. Our lifesavers put
the hours in, sacrificing evenings and weekends for training sessions,
making a social life difficult to uphold.
Paul Taylor is employed by the RNLI as a station mechanic. He said:
‘To be a part of the lifeboat crew you have to have an understanding
family. This is especially true for somewhere like Poole where we
have a really busy station. It’s a situation where having
friends and family who don’t mind interruptions really helps.’
Although it takes at least 2 years before you’re considered
to be fully trained, Jon explained that all vital skills are acquired
during the 12-month probation period.
‘Not too long ago there was a call and I went out with some
guys who had just come off probation,’ he said. ‘When
we got back to the station one of them said to me “I didn’t
even have to think about what to do out there. All the training
finally paid off and I was able to do what was necessary in an emergency.”
I’ll never forget that, it was great to see how one of the
young lads appreciated all the training he’d been through.’
There are times when the crew are unable to do anything but monitor
a situation, prepared to act only when the moment strikes.
Jon said: ‘There was one lady who tied herself to the lifting
bridge with rope around her neck. We were on call all night watching
her, ready to call the police if something happened.’
It’s not all doom and gloom out on the waves, however, and
volunteering with the RNLI certainly equips you with a lifetime
of anecdotes.
Paul said: ‘There was a guy with a knife who jumped off the
lifting bridge and threatened to kill anyone who came near him.
The only thing we could do was run over him with the boat to knock
him out, get the knife off him and drag him onboard!’
Nothing that exciting today, unfortunately. We bounce out of Poole
Harbour, and cut out the engine before we practise emergency steering.
As I try (and fail) to keep my balance, I’m strangely reminded
of being on a theme park pirate ship ride – with the real
terror of being thrown into the water.
A spontaneous man-overboard exercise rounds off the session, and
watching the fender, hardly visible as the waves engulf and spit
it back out, my grip on the safety rail becomes rather vice-like.
At least I’m safe in the knowledge that if I did take an
unexpected dip, I’d be in well-prepared hands. Last year there
were 113 calls made in Poole alone. So far this year there has been
over 30 rescues – an average of one every 5 days - and it’ll
only get busier as the Summer approaches.
But for now it’s back to land for us, and not a minute too
soon. I’ve enjoyed my morning on the boat but I’m in
desperate need of the tea and biscuits I’ve heard talk of
back at the station.
Slowly warming up, I secretly prepare to crawl back into bed as
soon as I get home, although I appear to be the only one slightly
dazed by what we’ve been through. To be able to save someone’s
life and finish a day at work you have to be made of stronger stuff
than I am.
If this morning has taught me anything, it’s that it takes
a lot more than a cool costume and a cape to be a hero. It takes
strength of character, determination, and of course the ability
to carry on smiling after a good soaking on the sea.
Then again … thermal underwear wouldn’t go amiss!
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