An end of the pier show

Jul 14 2008 by The Journal

Keen photographers John Steel and Rob Buckingham spent an evening last week with the Blyth All Weather Lifeboat crew. In words and pictures, John reports on what happened during their voyage of discovery.

YOU could be easily forgiven for missing the headquarters of Friends of Blyth All Weather Lifeboat. Hidden away on the banks of the Port of Blyth we didn’t see it either until one of the kindly volunteers saw us taking pictures of the nearby buildings and invited us to take a closer look at the lifeboat. Intrigued, we followed him through the secure area and that’s where our three-hour adventure began.

Volunteer George Sanderson had been the first to arrive and he was only too pleased to show us around and give us free rein to take some pictures of the lifeboat, Abbie Dean’s Spirit of Blyth and Wansbeck.

The crew arrived within minutes of each other and soon there were nine friendly faces, all chipping in with information about the service they run, the boat itself and what their individual roles are.

Overwhelmed with the reception we had been given, before we knew it we had been ushered into the locker room and kitted out in waterproof jackets, life-saving vests and a wireless radio alarm that is guaranteed to scramble a helicopter from RAF Boulmer should we have got into trouble and ended up in the water.

Once aboard – and breathless at the speed with which we were heading out to sea on the night’s training exercise – we listened to the coastguard confirming our launch and watched as all the electronic navigational systems lit up to feed information back to the crew. Suddenly we were at the end of the piers.

As soon as we hit the open sea things changed dramatically.

This was no pleasure cruise and while this vessel is exceptionally well equipped and able to right itself in the event of it capsizing, we had no wish to test this out.

For us, this was a rollercoaster of a ride but we were informed by the seasoned crew that things were fairly calm and there was nothing to worry about. In rough weather, they said, it was normal for the boat to be vertical in the water as it tipped over the crest of a wave.

No sooner had we established our sea legs than the calls of “man overboard” could be heard echoing all around the boat. Panicking, we took a few seconds to realise that this was all part of the drill as things were happening so fast.

Amid the furore there was also a sense of calm, each member of the crew getting on with all they had been trained for.

The spotter clearly marked the direction of the casualty and the pilot immediately steered the boat around. We were listing heavily until we headed towards the target.

Two more crew readied themselves on the starboard side, one with the gaff to pull the victim towards the boat, the other crew member holding his harness, in turn hanging on to the rails around the deck. Meanwhile, below decks, the navigators constantly monitored the instruments, identifying other vessels in the near vicinity, marking the location of the incident and accurately identifying their position at all times.

The poor guy – a full-sized dummy nicknamed George – was successfully fished out of the water and the boat headed off again on another course.

Only a minute or two later, the calls of “man overboard” came again. No chance it was a hoax.

This time the crew was taken by surprise –- essential training for an emergency search and rescue operation. With no idea where the victim was, a special overlay was put onto the navigational system, plotting a course for the boat to maximise the chances of observation. It wasn’t long before poor clumsy George was spotted and successfully hauled aboard again. Even during the serious business of this tough training drill, these friendly volunteers gave us the chance to try manoeuvring the boat ourselves.

It highlighted how well trained and skilled the volunteers are. It’s not easy to hold such a vessel still in the rough water, while the crew put their lives at risk to save another. Heading back to port, we thought we were home and dry. Not so. We continued past the port to some high fenders sticking up out of the water. More drill work ensued involving climbing on top of the fenders and using ropes to secure the boat for a rescue.

As the boat glided back to its berth we couldn’t help but feel these volunteers give an incredible amount of their lives unselfishly in order to provide a vital service. Someone needs to say thank you.