On the water -- Lifeguards adjust when there’s no life to guard

Alex Coolman

NEWPORT BEACH -- Across the barren waste of sand, a truck crawls like

an insect, and inside is John Moore.

For miles and miles, Moore has been on patrol. A lifeguard specialist

for Newport Beach, he is charged with protecting the lives of beachgoers.

In summer, it’s a heavy responsibility. The sand teems with

Coppertone-slathered tourists, boogie board-wielding 5-year-olds and

wading grandmothers.

In winter, it’s a different story.

The truck rolls across the empty beach, its tires sliding slightly,

and for long, quiet stretches there is no human life to be seen.

“No one on the beach, no one in the water,” said Moore, 28. “There’s

two pelicans.”

What is a lifeguard to do when there’s no life to guard?

To an extent, Moore admits, he simply has to endure it. He drives from

Newport Pier to the Santa Ana River. Then he turns around and drives to

the Wedge. Then he turns around and drives back to the pier.

Once every other week, on average, something happens that requires

real medical attention -- often a laceration from a stray surfboard fin.

And compared to summer, when strong swells often mean three or four

serious medical situations each day, it’s a whole lot of slow cruising

and still water in the winter.

But winter also is a productive time for lifeguards, Moore said. It’s

the time when they lay the foundation for the fast, frenzied motion of

the hot months.

In winter, they go out into the community to give clinics on water

safety and cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

And they take care of basic maintenance, such as painting the 35

lifeguard towers that dot the city’s coastline.

Moore, who has been a lifeguard for 13 years, is so familiar with this

chore that he can rattle off the paint colors as if they were his name,

rank and serial number: “Butternut, New Bark, Gray Beige.”

Summer is the time of physical discipline, with long days, hot sun and

racing in and out of the water.

Winter means mental discipline. It’s the time for lifeguards to hunker

down, wait and watch. Moore said he doesn’t mind it as much as people

might think.

“I spend nine months of every year with this environment,” he said,

driving slowly along the deserted beach.