out of the ordinary, something extraordinary. On Oct. 2, I witnessed such an event. My companion, Louie Gonzalez, and I were hiking the Na Pali coastline to see the falls near the base of Hanakapi’ai Beach. We stopped at the
out of the ordinary, something extraordinary. On Oct. 2, I witnessed such an
event.
My companion, Louie Gonzalez, and I were hiking the Na Pali
coastline to see the falls near the base of Hanakapi’ai Beach. We stopped at
the base of the beautiful but deceivingly treacherous waters of the small by
while my companion went a short way into the surf. (There were signs warning of
dangerous rip currents and waves along the path, although not on the
beach).
In the blink of an eye, just seconds after her husband warned her
not to out too far, a woman and another unidentified man were swept out in a
very strong rip current. That was coupled with the rocky cliff that the waves
were breaking on.
My companion and I, and about 20 or 30 other tourists,
watched helplessly as this happened, knowing that not one of us was equipped to
help these poor unknowing swimmers. Then out of the sidelines came four young
men – locals – who knew and respected the waters of the island.
Armed with
only their body boards and their knowledge of the surf and the ocean, three of
the young men took off without hesitation, without thought of the risks or
dangers that they were bringing to themselves. Extraordinary. As one of them
told me afterward, “I couldn’t just not help her, let her go without trying to
save her.”
The rescue took about 20 to 30 minutes, although it seemed like
an eternity. My arms ached for the rescuers, and my heart ached for the
unfortunate husband who paced helplessly on the beach.
After a 15 or
20-minute battle with the strong currents, they brought them ashore.
Immediately, three or four people in the crowd of tourists took over and
started 30 long minutes of CPR. The two rescuers went to help the third of
their party who had become stranded on the rocks above the waves during the
rescue.
As the people worked on the women, two amazing things happened. The
crowd of tourists stood silently, in shock, some crying for the loss of the
husband. But each time a tour helicopter would go overhead (and there seemed to
be at least five), the crowd of strangers would wave their hands in absolute
unison to attract the attention to the tragedy below. Their compassion mirrored
the young men’s courage, whose modesty and innocence allowed them to leave as
quietly as they came.
They silently left without fanfare, without
recognition, to the occasional shake of the hand and pat on the back from the
tourists who knew who they were and knew what they had done.
I asked them
to pose for me for a photograph so I could have a record of probably the most
courageous action I had ever seen. I told them that I wanted it so I could send
it to the local newspaper, as I knew that without the picture, they would have
no record of what they had done.
The woman was never revived, although the
other swimmer survived. But I am certain that the woman’s death will have a
profound effect on the 20 or 30 people on the beach.
Perhaps some good will
come of this. I do not know. Perhaps more visible signs closer to the beach or
better communication between hard-to-reach places and the emergency personnel.
I am sure that at least the people on the beach that day will have a
definitive respect for the ocean and the dangers that lie beneath, as well as
having a new outlook on how precious and fragile life is. I know I
do.
Ruth Murray lives in San Marcos, Calif. She said she wrote this
piece as her “salute to life and the bravery of strangers.”
