Possibly the most intense Santa Cruz water rescue never seen – hooray for our brave lifeguards

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Within an hour of the Dec. 23 collapse of the forearm of the Santa Cruz Wharf, the world was already hearing the news and seeing the shocking images. We heard about two engineers and a project manager who were inspecting the pier, fell into the water and needed rescuing. 

But there were other ocean emergencies that either went unacknowledged or just got lumped together as additional ocean “rescues.” There were nine in Santa Cruz and “at least” 11 in Capitola.

I witnessed one – and I can’t stop thinking about the heroism and humanity I saw. My wife and I watched it unfold. It is possibly the most intense water rescue never seen. 

It was Dec. 23 and as the wharf groaned and buckled, my wife and I were peddling our bikes past Steamer Lane along West Cliff Drive when I saw a jet ski with two riders shoot out past the lighthouse. The skiers rounded the point and drew a line toward the inside of Mitchell’s Cove. 

We saw flashing lights from a fire truck there, indicating a rescue. The jet ski flew over the water, far outpacing us. We stopped at the railing on the cliff above Woodrow Avenue to watch the scene unfold. In the distance, I could see two surfers in the water, one closer to the Mitchell’s Cove staircase, the other farther out. The jet ski stopped next to the surfer closest to the Mitchell’s Cove staircase. 

It is well known that just reaching the stairs there on a big day is dangerous. There have been multiple drownings as currents swept people past the stairs and onto the rocky coastline. 

For a moment nothing happened. 

The guards sat on the jet ski and the surfer sat there in the water. I imagined the lifeguards assessing a potentially life-threatening situation, questioning the surfer, asking if he needed assistance. The moment ended quickly and I could see why. A new, incoming set of waves rose on the horizon that were a whole category bigger than the 15- to 20-footers these guys had been chasing. 

The two guards on the jet ski quickly left the first surfer waiting in the cove as waves crashed onto the Mitchell’s sewer pipes. The guards shot out fast toward the second surfer and barely slowed down as he grabbed the rescue sled and they all tore seaward. The lifeguards dropped him to fend for himself, well inside the incoming set, but safely offshore. 

They spun around and raced back in an obvious attempt to get both surfers out of danger before the huge set was on them. The driver ran right up to the first guy and cranked a turn to put the sled into his hands. 

The surfer grabbed on and a second later they raced offshore. At this point, it might have been just a challenging double rescue, but the ocean had other plans. 

At sea level with a wave in front of you blocking your view, you are blind to the threat level of the wave behind it. From our elevated position, I could tell the driver was in trouble before he could. The next wave was mammoth and already feathering – its face many times higher than the jet ski and its riders. 

It was a rogue, a wave that for some reason is doubled up and rises out of proportion to the set it is in. It was going to break across the entire stretch of that coast, from outside Mitchell’s possibly all the way to the lighthouse. 

The driver hesitated a moment as he topped the first wave. I could guess his calculations as he spied the incoming wall of water. Factoring wave speed, its distance and size, there was only one choice. He couldn’t go into it, he couldn’t come to shore. He was trapped. 

His decision was instantaneous. He turned down into the trough between the two waves. He made a left turn at the bottom. Taking a parallel track with the wave lines, he began a white-knuckle race to outrun the thing. His only choice was to outrun the wave before it broke on them or before it ran them aground. 

I checked an online chart. The distance from Mitchell’s to where the wave finally passed into deeper water was over half a mile east and very close to shore. The wave period midday Monday was about 19 seconds. They had less than 19 seconds to get out before the incoming wall of seawater engulfed them. 

They passed right in front of us racing against the face of the wave. 

The surfer’s legs and surfboard hammered the air and water behind him. Then, the board spun out high into the air as the leash snapped. I can’t imagine how he held on. 

At any moment, something could have gone wrong and the wave would have been upon them. Just as they were nearly out of sight and far down the line from us, they made it around the wave shoulder and into deeper water. 

They were safely on the far side of Saberjets reef, one of the surf breaks, just off Its Beach. My wife and I cheered and hooted with our arms in the air. 

We looked around. Various neighbors and visitors walked and rode past talking animatedly, perhaps from the energy in the air. Yet, there was just one other old dude next to us who seemed to have shared the drama that we had just witnessed. 

I made some inquiries. The jet ski driver was Lt. Ben Coffey, his co-pilot was Xander Mehl. They are both part-time guards for the City of Santa Cruz.

The day went on from there with the wharf collapse and spectacular mayhem up and down the coast. I understand that Ben and Xander had new calls coming in through their helmet audio even before they rounded the point on their return. They just dropped the rescued surfer unceremoniously at Cowell Beach so they could race out to see if they could assist three city workers who had just landed in the ocean. 

Wow. What a job. What a day. I hope they get recognized. 

Many thanks to all our first responders for your service during events like this and, in this case, particular thanks to our valiant, quick-thinking and life-saving city lifeguards.

Thomas Pickett and his wife, Katie, are recently repatriated Santa Cruz residents back from a 40-year career in food service on the island of Kauai.