If you’ve ever spent time at the beach, you’ve probably noticed the lifeguards before anything else. Up in the stand. Watching the water. Not saying much. From a distance, it can look like the kind of job where not a lot is happening.
Gary Boone hears that assumption often. Boone, a member of The Citadel’s Class of 2027, has been working ocean rescue for six seasons now – three years as a lifeguard and three as a supervisor. Long enough that the beach feels familiar in a way most people don’t really understand unless they’ve been part of it day after day.
He didn’t exactly stumble into it either. It started earlier, when he was younger and paying attention to the lifeguards he saw every summer. “I was inspired by some of my friends’ older brothers who were lifeguards,” Boone said. “The Junior Lifeguard program played a huge role too.” Back then it was more about looking up to them than understanding what they actually did.
A typical day starts long before the beach feels like the beach. Before umbrellas, before coolers, before families even begin deciding where to sit, the lifeguards are already working through a routine that doesn’t change much but matters every time. Stands are opened. Equipment gets checked. Everything is laid out and checked again.
It sounds simple until you think about what it means if something doesn’t work later. Because later is when it matters. Then comes training. Every day. For about an hour in the morning, the team runs drills, practices rescues and works through scenarios. Even after that, during breaks, it doesn’t really stop. There’s still mixed-in training, conversations about technique, staying ready.
That part surprises people the most, Boone said. “People think we don’t do much,” he said. “But we’re constantly training, constantly preparing.”
The thing most beachgoers never see is how much of the job is about preventing anything from happening in the first place. Most good lifeguarding doesn’t look like anything at all from the beach. A conversation that keeps someone out of a dangerous area. A swimmer who gets redirected before they realize they were drifting. Small moments that never turn into emergencies.
From the stand though, the focus is constant. You’re not just looking at water. You’re reading it. Watching how it moves. Watching how people move inside it. Who looks fine. Who doesn’t. Who might not realize they’re in trouble yet. Boone said part of staying locked in is that he’s always running things through his head. ‘If something happens right now, what’s the fastest way down? Which equipment would I grab? Who else would I need? How long would it take?’
When something does happen, it shifts fast. A radio call goes out. Other guards respond. Equipment gets chosen based on conditions without much discussion. Someone is already moving before most people on the beach even realize what’s going on.
What looks like a sudden moment actually isn’t. It’s built on repetition of hundreds of drills, hundreds of training hours, all of it stacking up so the response doesn’t have to be thought through in real time. Charleston County Parks Ocean Rescue lifeguards train extensively and are certified through the United States Lifesaving Association. They’re also emergency medical responders. But Boone is quick to point out that none of that really means the learning stops.
Sometimes it’s a swimmer caught in a rip current. Or a medical issue. Some times it’s something smaller that still turns serious quickly because the ocean doesn’t really give warning signs in a way people expect.
Boone has been part of enough rescues now that he’s stopped trying to count them. But his first rescue stands out. A man had been caught in a rip current and was struggling offshore. Boone went in, reached him and brought him safely back to shore. Focus, effort and getting him back to where he could breathe again were essential. When it was over, the man hugged him. That part stayed with him more than anything else.
An incident like this, more than anything, is probably what most people don’t understand about the job. Life guards aren’t sitting in those stands waiting for something exciting to happen. If anything, they’re wishing for the opposite. That families just have a normal day and go home sunburned, tired and fine. Most of the job is hoping you’re not needed but being ready if you are.
There’s also the physical side of it, which people tend to underestimate. Long hours in the sun. Heat that wears you down slowly. Constant awareness even when nothing is going on. And then, suddenly, full sprint across the sand or straight into the water without hesitation.
As a supervisor now, that responsibili ty stretches beyond just Boone. Every morning, he checks in with the guards on his team to make sure they’re ready. Some days are quiet enough that it almost feels routine.
When Boone talks about the job, he doesn’t lean on big statements or polished explanations. He keeps coming back to people. That’s usually where it ends up anyway. Sometimes you meet someone on their best beach day. In other instances, it’s the opposite.
This includes more than just a technical response. It’s how you talk to people when they’re scared, keep things steady when everything around you isn’t and make sure a moment doesn’t feel bigger than it has to be.
By day’s end, when the beach finally clears out and the stands start to feel empty again, the work still isn’t over. Equipment gets cleaned. Supplies get restocked. Everything is reset so the next day can begin the same way.
Before wrapping up, Boone keeps his advice to beachgoers simple. Know your limits. Pay attention to the rules. For Boone, after six seasons, it always comes back to the same thing: helping people get through the day safely, and hoping they never have to notice he was there
By Cari Lawson
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