Lifeguarding at Gauche: Tans and rescues just part of job

Armed with sunscreen, whistles and flotation aids, they are the police of the pool.

Every summer, a small group of residents enlists for the sun-loving, high-stress job of lifeguard at Yuba City's Gauche Aquatic Park. As parents read, chat or soak up the sun, the lifeguards are a second and sometimes only set of eyes watching the children who splash about.

The white-nosed, beach-bum stereotype that characterizes the profession is not the experience of GAP lifeguards, said manager Cody Martin, who's been lifeguarding since the city-owned facility opened in 2007.

"The tan is nice, I'm not gonna lie," he said, his arms and legs a golden bronze from the summer rays.

But Martin, 20, feels a sense of responsibility in watching out for people's safety. And he's made some great friends while doing so.

"We're having fun, but being serious," he said. "You could be the difference between someone drowning and someone living."

Most days begin with a group huddle and quick cheer, then the lifeguards stake out their stations.

In red shorts and white tank-tops with the signature red cross, the lifeguards stand poolside, their eyes scanning continuously across the water. Occasionally, they grab their whistles and tweet a few short blasts to running or roughhousing children.

On busy days, when hundreds of kids are frolicking and bouncing in the water, the atmosphere can get pretty tense, said Michael Suyeda, a four-year veteran at GAP.

"It's hard to tell who's having trouble and who's having fun," said Suyeda, 20.

The rule is, "If you don't know, go." The lifeguards average one rescue per shift, 90 percent of which Martin estimates are in the slide and activity pool.

"You get the biggest adrenaline rush before you go in," he said. "You watch a kid, and you just know. Your heart just starts beating."

The response from parents afterward is mixed. Some are embarrassed, others are grateful and a select few have started clapping.

"Most of the time, it's just part of your job," Martin said.

Haley Summers, 10, has been chastised for running and horseplay in the past, but she still admires the red and white pool police.

"It's good to have lifeguards because what if somebody drowns and there is no one to save them?" said Haley. "I love them."

Haley's stepmother, Ericka Lanston, said she knows her girls are safe when she brings them to GAP.

"They are a lot more attentive than what we used to be," said Lanston, who lifeguarded for eight years. "The (eye) scanning, we never had to do any of that."

All GAP lifeguards are certified with a license and train for four hours every month. They each undergo a 28-hour course on first aid, CPR, oxygen and other skills to help distressed patrons.

Every 15 minutes, the guards rotate to prevent attention and vigilance from waning. As they walk from station to station, they wave a hand or fingers toward the pool, checking for underwater problems that may have missed notice.

"There's not one split second that you can't scan," Martin said. "You look away for a second and a kid can be going under."

The top three incidents are actually bee stings, bloody noses and minor cuts, he said. Missing children or missing parents are also common.

On Saturday, two young girls stood dripping in the lobby, the day's excitement replaced with by worry.

"You can't find your mommy?" Martin asked, bending down to help. "Did your mommy come in with you?"

Their mother was paged over the intercom and they were happily reunited. The family then returned to the water.

GAP employs 36 lifeguards, ages 16 to 61, although the majority are in their late teens and early 20s. The pool is open year-round, but most lifeguards work the May-to-August season. Starting pay is $9.72 an hour.

Taylor DeBeer, 16, has been swimming competitively since she was 8 years old. When she started looking for a summer job, lifeguarding seemed perfect.

She applied for the seasonal position in January, along with 250 other applicants. Less than 20 were hired to fill the open positions.

Once summer started, she didn't have to wait long for a rescue. On her first day, a little girl waded in over her head and started screaming. When DeBeer jumped in and plucked her up, she knew she had picked the right job.

"I like that I'm helping in a way," she said.

Sami Musallam, 18, still remembers his first rescue, also on his first shift, when he had to save a girl in the deep pool. He plunged in, pulled her to the side and the moment was over, at least to everyone else.

On the inside, Musallam was glowing.

"I felt great," he said. "Like, I love my job!"

CONTACT Ashley Gebb at 749-4724 or agebb@appealdemocrat.co