Bondi Beach has already seen big waves before, but nothing like “Black Sunday”
Three huge waves, just like that, Piggyback gets forward and more on the beach and grab everything they can along the way – from children to young children to teenagers to beach umbrellas, the old Blokes and young Sheila, before making a crazy race for the open sea again. As he runs away, he brings everything before and sweeps everyone from the sand bank and in the deep channel next to it.
The deceased Clem Walsh was the captain of the Black Sunday Black Surf Club patrol (pictured here in 2011). Credit: Danielle Smith
In no more than 20 seconds, on what will ever be known as Bondi’s “Black Sunday”, the peaceful scene has been tragically transformed into total chaos. Now, the hot surfing, with even larger waves that continue to roll, is full of people in difficulty who greet help.
It looks like a job for … you know who.
Because in their long and glorious story, this is still the most beautiful hour of the Australian Surf rescue movement. By ignoring their possible danger, the Bondi Boys now load in the surfing, some attached to one of the seven coils available, some are based only on their strength. Like one, people start out.
On the shore, many survivors are revived, since Bondi’s Club House is transformed into a sort of emergency compensation house and descended ambulances from the whole city of Sydney and take away the victims.
Loading
Finally, only half an hour after the blow of the waves, the water is freed from Teste Bobbing and greet their arms, and it is time to take stock: 250 people needed the life -saving to pull them out, of which 210 were ok once returned to the ground. Among the saved, 35 needed mouth -to -mouth to be restored to consciousness. Five people died.
Bondi. The sands shiny. The waves arrive while the seasons change. This is the case, so it has always been.
And every now and then, it becomes ugly. At least this time, nobody was swept away.
