By: Dana Hathaway
Editorial Editor
This summer, I fulfilled my destiny and became lifeguard certified. I blessed Skylake Yosemite Camp with my presence for a full month as a Camper In Leadership Training (CILT), in addition to undergoing lifeguard training. In retrospect, my lifeguard training was almost a fever dream. Due to the lack of technology, the experiences of my CILT group and lifeguarding have not yet been shared with the world. It’s time. I’m ready.
We began with 20 people and one Rocky. Rocky, the unusually buff 5’4” 20-something year old Head Lifeguard, consistently wore muscle tanks emblazoned with various designs of the American flag. Our first few sessions of lifeguard training occurred in a stuffy, old room with a projector that the ancient Greeks must have used. I’m serious — the pixels were visible. These hours were mind numbingly boring. I lost brain cells. Rocky read the words on screen. Rocky repeated the words, over and over again. We sat there. For three hours straight.
When we finally progressed to water saves, things improved slightly. Or they would have, if we had practiced before going into the deep water. Alas, I found myself struggling to stay as a passive victim when water was choking me as a fellow trainee struggled to get the tube under me. We also did not learn how to do mouth to mouth or CPR properly, so I knew that if I drowned, I was a goner.
Now here is where we ran into an issue. Rocky had spent far too much time flexing in front of the mirror to plan out our course timing correctly. So instead of training occurring on the Tuesday of the last week and getting tested that Thursday, we had to pretty much train all day until test day to possibly, maybe, if all higher powers rose up, pass our test.
But you see, I had qualified for something called Length of the Lake. The ten selected to attempt the four-mile swim left camp at 4:30 AM, swam for three hours, and then went back to camp and napped the rest of the day. Or normally they would. I was going to complete this swim. It’s a huge deal at camp, and results in your name on the dining hall wall, a plaque, and of course admiration of all the little campers. I woke up. I swam. I finished (yay!). I headed directly down to the dock, legs shaking from exhaustion, to learn how to complete the most difficult save we would learn, the deep water passive spinal. It usually takes three days and an astounding amount of strength and stamina to learn. Five people dropped out of lifeguard training that day. Personally, I fell asleep on the dock.
The next day, it was test time. We’d all passed the written test, mostly because Rocky didn’t care if we, you know, collaborated. We tramped down to the dock with an aura of those who know they are in for a rough situation. We tested, and I forgot how to do CPR. Others drowned. Some forgot lifeguard tubes. We awaited results like prisoners who know they are receiving a death sentence. When Rocky announced that all of the boys passed and only two girls, shouting commenced. There is no doubt that we were all equally bad. The sexism! The unfairness! I was thoroughly confused as to how I passed when I didn’t even remember to check for a heartbeat. Thankfully, Rocky allowed retests. In the end, 14 of us left camp deep water certified. Did we deserve it because of skill? No. Did we deserve it because of the 16 hours of work we’d put in over the past three days alone to try to pass? Yes. We undoubtedly did.