The Cinderella emergency service

WHILE a biting wind whistles around the house on the night before Christmas Eve, you snugly settle down in front of the television with a hot drink. But just as you are about to go to bed, you hear the insistent bleep of your pager. The message is from Humber Coastguard, and you are being summoned to help.

Three anglers are lost and disoriented below Boulby Cliffs near Skinningrove - the highest cliffs on the east coast of England. You don't think twice. Your team needs you.

Just minutes later you're standing at the top of the cliff in atrocious weather conditions in the black of night, with severe gale force nine winds pounding your team of 12.

With the wind chill at minus 15 degrees centigrade, you have little time to get to the three men, who are in grave danger.

A paraflare is fired to reassure the casualties before the team sets off on a half-mile trek across rough terrain, with each man carrying at least six stones of kit. The stranded fishermen are located beneath The Fireman's Hose, where the cliffs rise to 420ft.

Once the team has put the equipment for a cliff rescue in place, the cliffman is lowered to rescue the first angler. He relies on the skill of his team mates, who keep a firm grip on the ropes secured by four foot metal posts knocked into the ground. A motorised winch is used to help bring him back to the cliff edge with the angler.

But because of the incoming tide, all three men have climbed around 150ft at different points on the cliff so the equipment has to be set up three times in horrendous weather conditions.

Three and a half hours later, all three men are rescued and the mission is a success. But it is 5.30am before you get home to your family.

The men from HM Coastguard Skinningrove Response Team earned themselves The Rescue Shield and the Chief Coastguard's Commendation for their bravery during this operation carried out on December 23 and 24, 1999.

Despite their day jobs, this operation at Boulby cliffs is something the coastguards have to be prepared to carry out 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

Many of the Skinningrove coastguards are ex-military personnel who now work in a range of jobs, including at Boulby Potash Mine and in the steel industry.

"Most employers are very good," says Skinningrove's deputy station officer Paul Waugh, 41. "But shouts can come at any time. We had a call on Boxing Day last year at 2am; we've had to miss weddings and anniversaries, even our children's birthdays. Most of us have kids and often we have to quickly find someone to look after them so we can go out on a job. It just becomes a way of life."

Luckily the men can call on the neighbouring coastguard teams at Staithes and Redcar and even further afield if members of their team are unable to get away from work, or are unavailable for other reasons.

At least eight people, and preferably 12, are needed to carry out a cliff rescue.

"It is difficult when you have a family, and even if you don't, but you know that when you join," says Paul. "People rely on you. You've got to be someone that likes helping people and enjoys an adrenaline rush. But there are good points - we become good mates and get a social life out of it and we have functions with the lifeboat crews and the local bobbies."

The majority of call-outs are to people cut off by the tide or injured. But some are more obscure.

"We've been called to supposed mines that have turned out to be emergency beacons from ships," says Paul. "But two or three have actually been real mines and bombs and we've had to get the bomb squad in.

"One of the funniest jobs we had was chasing cows which had escaped from their field on the beach at Marske, near Redcar, and retrieving a massive container full of T-shirts that came ashore at Skinningrove.

"It was also great being able to save a dog from a cliff edge for a young man suffering from cancer."

Others jobs include cliff fires and co-ordinating lifeboat and helicopter rescues from the shore. But many call-outs can be very unpleasant, including helping police to retrieve dead bodies, some which have been in the sea for several weeks. The coastguards rely on each other for emotional support.

Skinningrove station officer Eric Lorains, 55, who runs his own walling and fencing business and has been a coastguard since he was 16, explains: "You can't dwell on it when you pick up a dead body. It's a traumatic time."

Not just anyone can become a coastguard - they must be both mentally and physically tough. They have to complete a comprehensive training schedule and are given a competency test at the end of their first year.

"We need to have an above average fitness and strength because the kit can weigh up to nine stone," says Eric. "Anyone wanting to join has to sign a medical declaration.

"Women can become coastguards - there are two on the team at Redcar. We certainly wouldn't stop them joining. They can do cliff work."

All coastguards positions from station officer down to auxiliary coastguards are voluntary. And not all the duties the men from Skinningrove carry out are in dangerous situations.

The team gives talks to organisations such as the local police and Rotary clubs, and they hold information stalls at local fairs.

"We take public relations really seriously," says Paul. "It's surprising how little people actually know about what we do. Many people don't realise that we're volunteers."

But despite the demanding work and the unsociable hours, the coastguards I spoke to were passionate about their work for Her Majesty's Coastguard.

"We join because we want to join," says Eric. "We certainly don't join for the money. You can't put a price on saving someone's life."