Trapped in a cave... and the seawater was rising
Vicky Murphy, 37, from Newquay, was pregnant and being washed out to sea...
As the sand squelched under my feet, I clasped my boyfriend Marc’s hand. Strolling along Chapel Porth beach in St Agnes, Cornwall, we wound around the headland towards a secluded cove a few minutes’ walk away.
It was 24 May 2009, and Marc, then 26, and I were on a break from our busy lives in Swanscombe, Kent.
I’d always loved this part of the country – Marc and I had even talked about moving down here.
Now, though, at 35 weeks pregnant, I knew there wouldn’t be another chance where I’d be able to manage the walk, so I soaked it all up.
‘I can’t wait to know what we’re having,’ I smiled.
By the time we reached the cove, I was tired.
‘Let’s sit here for a few minutes,’ I said to
Marc, plonking myself onto the sand.
Before I knew it, I’d drifted off.
Just then, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
‘Come on, love, we’d better get going,’
Marc said. ‘The tide is starting to come in.’
He helped me up, and as I brushed the sand off my dungarees, I looked out.
The tide looked miles out from where we were.
Retracing our path back to Chapel Porth beach, we began to make our way back to the headland.
Suddenly, Marc stopped in his tracks.
‘Look,’ he gasped, pointing towards the headland.
‘The tide’s already in!’ I replied. ‘How?’
We’d only been in the cove for half an hour, and the tide had been out.
I’d thought we’d have plenty of time to get back…
‘Let’s get moving,’ Marc said. But at 35 weeks pregnant, that was easier said than done. As we made our way back to the beach, the water was already lapping around our ankles.
I still thought we had time, but in just a few minutes, the water was up to my shins, then my knees. My heart started to race – I’d never seen a tide come in so fast.
‘You’re going to have to walk a bit faster, love,’ Marc urged.
‘I’m trying!’ I replied, pointing to my huge bump.
Wading along as fast as I could, suddenly the waves were up to our chests, and by now, I was terrified.
My baby, I thought, panicked.
As the waves became stronger,
Marc looped his arm through the straps of my dungarees to keep hold of me. Before I knew it, we were shoulder deep and had been pushed up against a cliff wall, waves crashing all around us and getting stronger each second.
There was no way to get back to the beach now – we were trapped.
Marc dug his feet into the ground beneath us to hold himself still.
With one arm, he grabbed a protruding rock, and with his other, held onto me.
As the waves tossed me around, I tried to protect my bump, but it was pointless.
Every wave threw me violently against the cliff face.
They were now 5ft tall and heading straight for us – there was nothing we could do.
As a huge wave came roaring towards us, Marc and I took a deep breath, then, CRASH – it submerged us.
‘Oh my God!’ I cried as we came to the surface.
But we only had a few moments of rest.
The waves were coming in over and over, crashing down on us with force.
Just then, a 6ft wave came ploughing towards us.
I took another deep breath, and as the wave crashed down, I was plunged into darkness, being spun in so many different directions I had no idea if I was still upright.
The massive wave had also separated me from Marc, and we were both being tossed
I was thrown against the cliff
around, spluttering for air.
Just then, as the wave pulled out, I felt myself being shoved up onto a rock.
Grabbing the solid ground, I desperately pulled myself up. Marc was next to me. Then I realised – we’d been tossed into a cave in the cliffs.
It was a relief to be out of the water, but as Marc and I clung on to each other, we made a horrible realisation.
The tide was still rising, and within minutes, the waves would suck us back in.
We were as good as dead. ‘I can’t believe we’re not going to have this baby,’ I sobbed to Marc.
‘I love you,’ he replied, taking me in his arms.
I couldn’t believe this was happening, prayed it was an awful nightmare.
Then, out of nowhere, I saw it – coming around the headland, an orange motorboat was bouncing towards us through the waves – an RNLI boat!
I fell to the ground with relief – we were being saved!
Within seconds, one of the lifeguards jumped out of the boat and swam towards us.
When he looked at me, he did a double take, realising I was heavily pregnant.
‘I’m going to help you,’ he said. ‘We’re going to have to get you into the water.’
‘I can’t!’ I cried, terrified. Before I could protest, he pulled me into the water, gave me a floating tube to hold.
Once again being thrown by the waves, I was terrified.
The lifeguard managed to pull me towards the boat.
He went back to rescue Marc, and finally, we were both safely on board – relief.
‘How did you know we were here?’ I gasped.
‘A surfer saw you two and raised the alarm,’ one of the lifeguards replied.
Just then, I realised I hadn’t felt the baby move in a long time.
Had he or she survived the ordeal?
Minutes later, we were back on the beach, met by paramedics.
Exhausted, I passed out.
The next thing I remember is waking up in the Royal Cornwall Hospital in Treliske.
Apart from being bruised and exhausted, Marc and I were both fine.
And thankfully, a scan showed our baby was fine, too. ‘Thank God,’ I cried.
All three of us had come out alive, and I couldn’t wait to get back home to Kent.
Our daughter Rae was born at Darent Valley Hospital just three weeks later.
She was our little miracle. ‘We’ll have to take her to meet the lifeguards who saved us,’ Marc said.
He was right – without them, we wouldn’t be here. So, when she was six weeks old, we took Rae down to Cornwall to meet our heroes. Their names were Damian Prisk and Chris Lowry, and they were smitten with Rae, gave her an RNLI teddy.
‘Thank you for saving my family,’ I said.
We moved to Cornwall later that year as we’d planned, started our new life.
Our son Dillon came along in 2011, Marc and I got married in 2013, and in 2014, our son Tristan arrived.
In May last year, the RNLI got in touch.
They were launching a new campaign and wanted to make a film about our story.
Heading back to the beach, I saw two familiar figures – Damian and Chris!
‘Do you recognise this one?’ Marc asked, pointing at Rae.
It was the first time they’d seen her since she was a baby. ‘It can’t be!’ Chris laughed. Rae is now 11, and still has her RNLI teddy.
Dillon is eight and Tristan is five, and all three of them know the story of our rescue and the importance of the RNLI.
Marc, Rae and I could have lost our lives that day.
But Chris and Damian’s bravery prevented a tragedy.
I will forever be grateful. Vicky is donating her fee from this article to the RNLI.