Open waters training, first course: 8/29

Part two

The half-hour passed by agonizingly long. Conversations already ended, one by one, and during the meantime we just remained stuck there, waiting in silence except for the persistent noise of raining and the occasional thunderclap in the distance. 

The rain didn't show any hint of stopping, and time was already running late, so the coaches decided to shrug off the rain and continue training. But as soon as we finished preparing for the second lesson, the rain left as soon as it came.

The second part of the course is to introduce us to the different equipment of lifesaving in the open sea, and it's even more fascinating than you'd thought – the best part of it involves operating an actual motorboat. 

We were soon divided into four separated groups regardless of previous teams and ordered to go to separate sections of the beach to get a hands-on experience of operating equipment, each section a different kind of them. 

Our group was sent to the most boring equipment, a long floatation device that makes saving people easier and safer. The coaches mostly just call them the torpedo due to its shape. After watching my former classmates on the verge of failing at giving a lecture on how the rescue was carried out, we get to do it ourselves. I got the signal, set off and everyone tripped on the waves, two fell and got a mix of sand and seawater up their face.

Wading into the sea as fast as you can isn't easy at all. The water seemed more solid than liquid when we tried to run through it knee-deep. I was the first to carry my victim back to nearshore and after that, I just ditched him there and he almost drifted away. Add that to the list of why I'm not going to be an open waters lifeguard.

A whistle was heard, and we headed towards the second equipment which, to my surprise, was rope. I'm already more than familiar with it, so I grabbed the nearest bundle and threw it. It expanded to full length and landed precisely in one of the red markers. 

The coaches weren't surprised that I already knew, but the others were simply awestruck as they originally thought our team didn't learn rope throwing too and I shockingly nailed it on my first try. I get to skip the lecture, and then we threw the bundles of rope again and again for another thirty minutes.

Fast forward to the next equipment: Lifesaving boards, or whatever else Google translation said. Imagine a surfing board with nothing attached to it except a metal piece shaped like a shark's fin plastered to the rear end. 

It was a bit heavier than estimated, and carrying this while running into the sea isn't really that glorious as we thought as we tripped once more. The coaches also had to constantly remind us not to drag it against the sand, as the rear end can and will snap clean off the board if it hit with the ground while being carried at full speed. Coming back to shore was easy enough, we just wait for a wave and let it carry us back.

We then all went to the last section, which I looked forward to the most. As soon as the whistle was blown, I immediately ditched the others behind and zipped towards the IRB with inhuman speed. The Inflatable Rescue Boat area was at the borderline of the deep end – the motorboat can't go to places too shallow. Then after some time, the others followed me in front of the boat. One of them anticipated that we're probably going to practice saving people on it.

I submerged until I felt a stone under my feet, kicked off and happily leapt in the lifeboat before the coach gave us any instructions. The others struggled to climb in, some even had to let the coach pull them in the boat. I volunteered first while the others exchanged confused looks. He nodded, and the boat's all mine to operate. While I prepared myself, the coach explained.

The IRB is often used in case of extremely long distances, vast area search-and-rescues, anything that requires a boat to do the job. There's also the bonus that equipment can be brought onto the boat, and there's enough space for CPR. Everyone's heads spun around as one person asked if he had this boat, can he drive it all the way to China. I blinked. The coach was immediately at a loss for words. I already had three perfectly logical reasons why not, but I bit them back and just continued preparing. Uncomfortable silence tensed the air as said person still didn't know what's wrong with his question.

I circled the safety trigger around my wrist, pulled down a lever next to the engine and gripped the steering handle. The coach motioned the others to hold on, I gradually increased the speed, and off we went, full speed ahead.

It was an amazing feeling of rushing adrenaline mixed with pure bliss. I almost laughed out loud – this is twice as exhilarating than any ride in any amusement park I've been on. The view was spectacular after the rain – Green, blue, azure, navy, cyan, turquoise and more that I can't name mixed into a breathtaking array of various moving colors no artist can possibly recreate. I can also see an island covered in fog at far northwest and the white water rushing behind us, leaving a trail behind. The air smelled faintly of burnt rubber and gasoline. Droplets of cool seawater splashed into my face every time the boat crashed against a wave. 

I lost count of time, but it passed by like mere seconds. The coach told me to turn a full circle and go back, then he passed the opportunity to another person on the boat. We all changed our positions and nearly fell off as the one operating it went to full speed as soon as he touched the steering handle, and without the safety trigger on his wrist, and without waiting for us to get ready. We still managed to make it back with the boat in one piece and nobody missing.

After the training, we headed back to shore for a brief run-through of snorkeling. Everyone then raced to their backpacks for their equipments, including me. After I pulled mine out of its sack, the team already gathered and I had to run back to the group to not be late.

Fifteen minutes later, we're already in the sea, seeing nothing but rows and rows of sand in the same pattern as waves. I submerged underwater a few times and ran my hands through the sand. Another person at my side tried to go under as well but just ended up inhaling a mouthful of seawater. 

I feel weirded out because last time we barely got to the deep end and there are loads of fishes, jellyfish and other wildlife visible. Now it's just endless rows of sand. It stretched on and on for another hour until the coach went back from the IRB and gave up searching. We eventually went back with nothing. I was just disappointed.

After that, it was already five p.m. Some of the coaches disappeared for a moment, then showed up with boxes after boxes of snacks and drinks. We all grabbed something out of the boxes. I got a bag of chips and some Oreos. Then all members of the team all got an IRB license and an open waters lifeguard license – all except me. That was the end of the day.

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Additional notes:

* It's near Ghost Festival at the date when we have open waters training, so the snacks were there to thank the ghosts, spectres, any other beings from the dead for... Not taking one of our lives...? Chinese customs and stuff sometimes can be confusing.

* Out of nowhere, I think I should make an It's Not Baywatch compilation, because the more often I go to the open waters training, the more I see about it that can fill a whole book.

* When diving down while snorkeling, you ditch the mouthpiece. Don't try to breathe through the tube anymore because there's barely any air in it.

* The open waters lifeguard license doesn't quite do anything, at the end it's still the official license from the national test that gets you a job. But I think if I had it, it can be used for extracurricular bonuses.