Castaic Lake Lifeguards Have Little Time to Marvel at Nature’s Work

Ralph Searcy stood at the wheel of a 13-foot-long powerboat, peering intently across the waters of Castaic Lake. Seemingly captivated by the gentle waves and the towering mountains, he methodically scanned the horizon, looking from one end of the lake to the other.

But it wasn’t the scenic view that gripped Searcy’s attention.

For Searcy and the other 90 full-time and part-time lifeguards at Castaic Lake the beauty of nature takes a back seat to the job of rescuing those in need.

“You have to constantly watch the water. You can’t let up,” Searcy said as a voice crackled over the boat’s marine band radio, alerting them to yet another person requiring a lifeguard’s assistance.

Castaic Lake lifeguards have rescued nearly 100 people from drowning this year, said Fred Elam, a senior lifeguard. Boat fires and accidents, collisions of jet skiers, heart attacks, suicide attempts and even feuds between park visitors--all the responsibility of the lifeguards at the 8,000-acre park--also keep them busy.

“People think it’s a stress-free job, but it isn’t,” Searcy said. “It gets frustrating on Sundays or big, hot holidays where everything just seems out of control. You feel so helpless because you can’t do everything. On days like that you get a knot in your stomach.”

Situated 11 miles northwest of Newhall, the park attracts visitors from as far as San Diego. And when the temperature rises, so does attendance. On any given weekend there are 15,000 people enjoying the water, and many more using the park’s trails and picnic areas.

The park set a record last year when more than 35,000 people spent the July 4 holiday at the lake. “On hot holidays the entire town of Castaic becomes one big parking lot,” Elam said.

Park officials estimate that 30,000 people turned out at the lake Wednesday, but many more were prevented from entering when the California Highway Patrol closed two Golden State Freeway exits--at Lake Hughes and Parker roads--that lead to the park in an attempt to limit the size of the crowd.

“We’ve been turning them away for hours,” said Charles Graham, chief lifeguard. “We had to close the freeway to keep them from coming.”

Graham said a line of cars stretched from the park to Magic Mountain Parkway, eight miles away.

The allure of the lake is easy to understand. It offers boating, fishing, swimming, water skiing, hiking and camping--all just 45 miles northwest of downtown Los Angeles.

But the lake is far more perilous than even regular visitors realize.

“Working here is so different than working on the ocean or the pool,” said Brian Roney, a regional park superintendent with the Los Angeles County Department of Parks and Recreation. But Roney, a former lake lifeguard, added, “This is the most dangerous.”

Unlike the beach there are no waves to scare off weak swimmers, and the placid lake’s depths are difficult to judge, Roney said. “It’s very inviting--like a big bathtub. A non-swimmer will go right in and . . . then the bottom drops off.”

Other problems arise when visitors fail to follow park rules, such as the ban on alcohol.

“Our biggest problem is alcohol,” Searcy said. “It seems to be the common denominator” in many accidents.

Often visitors disregard posted signs and swim outside designated areas. During the Memorial Day weekend two men drowned while swimming in a restricted area.

“We do what we can with signs,” Roney said. “But signs don’t always do it.”

Some swimmers simply overestimate their swimming ability and find that they need help making it back to shore.

Just last week lifeguards rescued an 11-year-old Carson girl who was found unconscious in 15 feet of water. Lifeguards revived her with CPR. “All it takes is one incident like that to see that the lifeguards really do earn their pay,” Roney said.

True to the stereotypical image of a lifeguard--bronze, built and blond--Searcy, 29, and Steve Neale, 38, sport tans that only a lifeguard could ever attain. Their lean bodies are testaments to their athletic lifestyles.

Dressed in the standard uniform--red shorts, blue sneakers and white ankle socks for men and a bright red bathing suit for women--lifeguards have a leisurely, even relaxed look that belies the seriousness of their work.

“We just sort of wait for something to happen,” said Searcy’s partner Neale, “and something usually does.”

In the eight years that Searcy, a senior lifeguard, has worked at Castaic Lake, he and his partner Neale have just about seen it all.

Using a bright yellow boat equipped with medical and rescue gear, they patrol a portion of the lake used by boaters and jet skiers, enforcing lake rules and keeping watch for anyone in need of assistance.

One recent Sunday was typical of the job’s rapid pace. They calmed a dispute between two families, and spent the next hour responding to radio calls and rescuing jet skiers.

One after the other the calls poured in: two jet skiers collided, leaving one with minor injuries; complaints of a 6-year-old boy on a jet ski terrorizing other skiers; a report of a patron suffering a seizure.

“This is how everything happens,” Searcy said before zooming off to the next call. “Everything breaks out at once. . . . Sometimes two boats is not enough.”

In spite of the sometimes hectic nature of the job, lifeguards at Castaic Lake say they enjoy fringe benefits not found in many other occupations.

“If you’re a lifeguard you have to like the outdoors,” said 22-year-old Rich Belloli. “And you have to learn to use sun block,” he said, laughing.

Many of the lifeguards are athletes, such as triathletes Neale and Searcy, who said the job helps keep them in shape.

For Neale, who teaches world history at William S. Hart High School in Newhall, and other professionals who spend summers working as lifeguards, life on the lake provides a welcome change. “My poor classroom only has one window with one little ray of light,” he said.

The camaraderie and the high morale among the lifeguards is something that 28-year-old Brent Smith had never encountered at other jobs.

“It’s fun to get up in the morning and look forward to going to work,” he said. “A lot of people can’t say that.”