Saving Beauhunks from Drowning

Bob Landis and I once saved a couple of servicemen at Marine Street in La Jolla. Well, we liked to think we saved them. These two guys were at our favorite belly-whomping site, and if I remember it correctly, they both started calling for help because of the undertow in the water. Really, the two servicemen weren't in much danger, but coming from someplace in the middle of the country, like Podunk, Nebraska, they thought they were in danger. I remember putting one of the guys in the standard, arm around the neck hold, and trying to drag him in, and he was complaining that I was choking him and fighting me. I remember thinking something like "well, drown or choke, you chose."

Bob and I never got much of a thanks if I remember. We bitched about this miraculous deed we had done, and then received not much more than a mumble from the guys. I expect the two were a little embarassed about having to call for help.

I once got in a sticky situation at Four-Mile beach, four miles north of Santa Cruz. It was winter, I was staying on the beach for a few days, alone. One day, the waves were big due to a storm rolling in. I grabbed my kneeboard and fins and into the waves I went. No one else was out that day, just me. In the surfing world, if you've got a surf spot all to yourself, the waves are either too small or too big. In this case, the waves were too big. I remember riding a couple of big waves, at least ten feet, and as I was paddling out again, a huge set started to roll in. I started digging to get out, and the freaking waves kept getting bigger and bigger. The idea is to get out beyond where the waves are breaking, so you don't get caught "inside" and pushed back to shore. So there I was, paddling as fast as I could, just floating over the tops of these waves as they just kept breaking. Then I hesitated. I thought, "What am I going to do once I get way the hell out there?  I could be pulled out to sea." The hesitation was all it took. I started paddling out like mad again, and got caught right in the impact zone of a wave, that was described by a non-surfing watcher on the beach, as at least 15 feet. I was down a long time after the wave hit me. It had knocked the wind out of me, pulled my surfboard away, and pulled off one of my fins.

Without a surfboard, a surfer is just a regular swimmer. The board is not only a means to ride waves but a lifesaver. There I was, way out, more waves breaking on top of me, no board, only one fin, and I caught a cold water cramp in one of my legs. I was drifting way south, towards some cliffs and rocks, and I could barely swim. Somehow I made it into shore, alive.

One other time, I was abalone diving with a friend way up north of San Francisco. My mask was taking in water, so my friend was doing all the diving. I was wearing a weight belt, holding onto a bag of abalone (heavy), and wearing this diver's floatation device that has air in it but not so much air that you can't dive. Next thing you know, this floatation thing pops, and now I have the weight of the abs, and the weight belt and I'm sinking like a stone. I start to make my way to shore, but there's nothing but rocks. I'm not getting rid of the abalone, I don't know if I ditched the belt. I don't remember. I made my way to these rocks, but as I sought this refuge, the waves are pounding on me and the rocks. I wasn't in much danger probably, but my friend Paul helped me out. I must admit, I was panicking. We saved the abalone and me.

I don't know how I'm going to die, but I never want to drown. Never. Drowning is my Krytonite. No, not that way, please.

Here's the point. I've been really depressed at times in my life, but depressed or not, when your life is in danger, you fight it. That's the way it is supposed to be. If you go to the Golden Gate Bridge and want to jump, or you are staring down the barrel of a gun, something is seriously wrong. If you jump off the bridge, or pull the trigger, I guarantee, if you have any time whatsoever for reflection, you're going to try to save your life. Imagine, falling from the bridge, clawing at air, wanting you arms to be a hundred feet long--first you want to return to the bridge, next, if you are at all able, you're considering what might be the best way to enter the water way below so you don't die. With a gun, do you flinch as you pull the trigger?

I've addressed this point in this blog before. I think it's important to know that wanting to die is not the way it's supposed to be. If you feel this way, seek help.

Finally, I'm wondering if continuing this blog is worth my time. Not many seem to read it. I thought I'd get more readers and even a few comments. That's not happening. I do address a lot of different matters in my other blog, The Dog Chronicles. Do you have any ideas? Should I continue this blog? Let me know either via Facebook, or my email. My real email address is GrumpaF@sbcglobal.net. I check that everyday almost.