The RNLI volunteers who risk their lives to save those in trouble

IN THE changing rooms at Barry lifeboat station, eight men pull on their allweather gear. Some are bankers, some are paramedics fresh from an 11-hour shift. Others are retired.

But while they may come from different backgrounds, they are all here for the same reason – to give their time to try to save lives.

Hidden away at the end of Barry Docks, the lifeboat station is home to 22 team members and two rescue boats – one an all-weather vessel and the other a boarding boat for inshore tasks. Inside the small kit room each volunteer has their own peg, with every pair of wellies and yellow coat labelled with their name.

Similar to a sports changing room, the room is cold but full of steam as the men huddle on the benches with cups of tea, catching up on gossip like old friends.

Inside the control room sits another member keeping an eye on the monitors, surrounded by maps and pictures of lifeboats and their crews dating back 100 years.

With no government funding, the Barry lifeboat centre relies on public donations to meet its £180,000-a-year running costs.

And with 150 miles of coastline to cover, the team is constantly at work, dealing with everything from brokendown boats to people swept out to sea.

So far it has been a busy year for the team with more than 45 callouts which is 10 more than the normal average.

Armed with a pocket-sized pager, each volunteer can be summoned to the station at any time of the day or night.

For deputy coxswain David Phillips callouts are a world away from his job as a data analyst for Lloyds Bank. The father of three has been volunteering for the RNLI for 21 years since first serving the team as former landlord of the Castle Hotel.

While working at the pub he slowly learnt about the team’s work after the odd end-of-day pint for the volunteers, particularly after a long or difficult callout.

After becoming so inspired by their work his next step was to become part of the crew. Now working from his home in Barry for half of the week, the 49-year-old is able to send a pre-saved email to his bosses at Lloyds as soon as his pager goes off.

“I’ve been in phone conferences before and my pager has gone off. Everyone could hear it – I just had to hang up and go. I do get a lot of support from the office. They give me extra leave to do training and if I get called out overnight I can take extra time to catch up on sleep.”

For six generations his wife Abigail’s family have signed up to the RNLI, both going out to sea and raising money for the charity.

In her spare time Abigail and her mother can be found at the RNLI Barry Island Visitor Centre, collecting donations and spreading the word about the crew’s work.

Back at the station David’s 23-year-old son Ben is another member of the team, while his 18-year-old son Sam and 16-year-old daughter Katie are also training to join up.

For the proud father, his family is also a major support system for the more difficult callouts which can end in tragedy.

On July 11, 2013, the body of Scottish schoolgirl Hollie McClymont was recovered more than a week after she went missing. David had been one of the crew members involved in the search for Hollie.

“The worst time was when we had a teenage girl go missing from the main beach on the island. We were out searching for about 16 hours.

“It was a busy day on the beach so there was a couple of thousand people there. She was with friends and they got out of their depth but it was about 40 minutes before anyone was informed. At the time my daughter was about the same age and had been down on the beach that day.”

Fellow deputy coxswain Marc Gibbons also remembers the day clearly.

“We all came back and no-one said a word because we knew the worst had probably happened. We thought we had found her at one point but it was just a balloon. The beach was rammed and when we came back it was empty.

“We ended up back at the station to have a pot of tea to have a chat but everyone gets on with it in their own way.”

Marc, 28, who dreamed of becoming a “lifeboat man” after trips to different stations on family holidays, remembers the fear in the eyes of two 10-year-old girls while they were stuck on a rock surrounded by the terror of the sea.

“The moment they got on the rescue boat they wouldn’t let go of me until we got back into the harbour. They were terrified. It wasn’t the most heroic of rescues but it was a lovely summer’s evening and the tide came in quickly. The fear in those children was unreal.”

Nigel Parry did not have any form of sailing background when he joined the RNLI and just wanted to try something