The Lifeguard ‘It was high tide on the afternoon of 28 June and I had just come on duty at Trebarwith Strand, north Cornwall. The surf was rough and we were flying the red flag. I chatted with a couple of anglers, a dad and his stepson on holiday, explaining where it would be safe to go. Then I went to get on my wetsuit. Suddenly, I heard hysterical screaming. With the wetsuit still only half on I followed the shouting at full speed.

‘The “washing machine” is the one place you don’t go. The waves converge from all directions to bounce up the cliff and down, creating a swirl that drags you under. But there was the man I had spoken to just moments before, lying submerged, face down. I yelled to my colleague, John Dugard, to call for back up. ‘I checked the surf. A set of waves was coming. I had to get to the man before they did or he would be at their mercy and smashed against the rocks. I grabbed my rescue tube and went in, placing myself as his protection. I got cuts and bruises but, amazingly, we didn’t receive any major blows to the head.

‘To be honest, I was nearly drowning myself. There was no way I could get the rescue tube around him – there was too much water and I kept going under. One second I was on a rock and then off it and onto another. I knew I could get out by myself but to get out with the man, who was considerably bigger than me and a dead weight, would be very, very difficult.

‘Worse, there was 10m of fishing line in the swell and it made its way around the man’s neck. I put my arm between his neck and armpit to stop it strangling him but then we got tangled together and he was acting as an anchor. We were getting smashed against the rocks.

‘Now John was with us and I managed to get free. The man was grey and apparently stone dead but somehow we managed to give him one good rescue breath. Then the right waves came to help wash us all onto the rocks. With the man’s legs still submerged I started mouth-to-nose, while John rushed to get the defibrillator. It was the first time in my life I had given CPR for real. I had to keep clearing his airways.

‘An ambulance was on its way but ETA was 37 minutes and it felt like we were very alone until a local nurse arrived on scene. We found out the man’s name and, holding onto every bit of faith and hope, put everything we had into trying to revive him. ‘The man needed to be fully out of the water to start defibrillation. All that water in his body made him incredibly heavy. As we set up the defib, we felt a pulse. His eyes were still not reacting but there was a very faint breath. It was such a relief when the paramedics arrived about 10 minutes earlier than expected, followed closely by a rescue helicopter. ‘I had been on autopilot, carried by adrenaline and training, but as soon as the winch went up, my knees started to wobble and I nearly fainted with exhaustion and shock. I realised what we had done – it was amazing but it had been so scary. How can he have come back from that?

‘I had three sleepless nights until, with a wave of relief, I met the man and his family again. He remembered me from our chat. He joked it was the last time he was going fishing and gave me what was left of his rod as a gesture of thanks. That evening I slept.

‘The rescue has really brought home the importance of giving something back. The RNLI has given me expert training and equipment. Local knowledge is vital too, especially here with all the blind spots and such a swift tidal change. I came up through the Tintagel surf lifesaving club and thank them for that knowledge. I’ve now started helping with their training.

‘I am so thankful too that John also knows the rocks and surf inside out. Without that, I don’t believe he would have been able to help me as he did. I’m not sure this rescue would have had the same outcome for any of us ...’

The Witness

‘The family all whooped with delight. It had been a long drive from Dorset and we were in need of a break from incessant rounds of Old Macdonald. We rushed to admire our holiday view – Trebarwith Strand was glorious, devastatingly beautiful in its wildness – the tide was high and the sea crashed with great booms and fabulous gusts of spray off the rocks.

‘Suddenly my eye was drawn down to a small cluster of people at the water’s edge and I knew in my stomach that something was wrong. Focusing, I saw what looked like a dead man. I’ve done a first aid course, I’ve seen Casualty on TV, but to witness CPR in real life was truly horrifying. It went on and on. Then we saw them bring the defibrillator and I despaired. With tears streaming, I clung to my son, thinking how precious and precarious life is.

‘How had the man got there? His skin colour seemed so unnatural – had he been washed up? Had the lifeguards rescued him? To do battle in that sea – was it possible? As I realised they had sensed a pulse, the woman who had been rather helplessly standing by was hugged and taken to sit down. Only then did I feel it appropriate to take some photos. ‘I gasped as the helicopter was skilfully piloted into such a narrow strip. It hovered just metres in front of us. The sound of the blades roared in our ears and I held my breath while we watched the winch down and up. It was impressive.

‘A woman who had been helping the lifeguards approached with a weak smile. Her husband gave her a big hug and said: “You deserve a drink.” She certainly did. I suddenly felt so inadequate: she and the lifeguards had, at least for now, saved a life. All I could do was report on what I’d seen. Over the next few days my family wondered aloud: ‘How is he?’ So it was wonderful when my father-in-law bounced in to say he’d heard that the man had survived.

‘During our trip from Falmouth to Mousehole, Padstow to St Ives, there seemed to be no car or building that didn’t have some show of support for our incredible Institution. I was so proud to be part of it and came back revived and roaring to do my bit at Headquarters to help those on the (water) front line continue to save lives.’