Pittwater Life January 2018 Issue

The Thin Blue (Wa ter) Line Continued from page 15
News
AT THE READY: Running the eye over their 'patrol vehicle' before hitting the water; all in a day's work.
of cocaine.
“Should’ve seen these
blokes,” smiles Watt. “It was
Cheech and Chong stuff.
There’d been eyes on them
for months. They thought
because it’s Christmas Day
no-one will be working. That
was not correct.”
We cruise past fine houses
on Umina Beach. There’s
homes set among the eucalypts
like the Swiss Family
Robinson. There’s homes that
float on the water. “Older people
can get a bit isolated,” says
Cooksley. “Sometimes we’ll
have to medivac them off.”
And sometimes people
die. And the smell, they say,
is not easily forgotten. And
you think, for all the “cool”
bits of the job, the rescues
and helicopters, and busting
crooks, there are things you
don’t envy.
A message comes over the
mobile phone: complaint
about jetskis at Patonga.
We fly over the flat water,
Suzukis roaring. We bounce
through some big swell where
the ocean meets Broken Bay.
There’s talk of fishing and a
Mexican prison island, and
Margot Robbie, before we
putt-putt quietly into Patonga.
And there we find a fisherman
from central casting:
leathery skin, sun-blonde
beard, salt-flecked shorts,
knitting his nets with a trusty
hound by his side.
“Did you call us, mate?”
asks Watt.
“I bloody well did!” says
the man. “I’m jack of these
bastards. Twenty of ’em. Took
off. Smart-arses.”
“Did you take down rego?”
16 JANUARY 2018
The Local Voice Since 1991