They're the "silent soldiers" of the sea - there when boaties find themselves in trouble. Dawn Picken spends time with Tauranga Coastguard and discovers an organisation that gives back to the community but also relies on that community for survival.
Clouds shroud Mauao's peak as we rumble toward the harbour inside Tauranga Volunteer Coastguard's amphibious rescue boat.
The crew from the Bay of Plenty Times Weekend bounces through the car park as operations manager Simon Barker drives the boat, named Sealegs, into the water.
Barker retracts the wheels and switches from the 24-horsepower inboard engine to the 200 horsepower Suzuki outboard motor.
"This has become the boat of choice," says Barker.
"Some weekends, we get no calls, but the weekend before last, we got eight callouts in one day."
Barker gets a radio call from the Coastguard control room at Sulphur Point.
"We might need to go jump-start a boat," he says.
Barker tells us most calls involve mechanical issues. Later, board chairman Chris Phillips, also along for the ride, updates the situation: "He has a flat battery and no communications - he can't tell us where he is."
Tauranga Coastguard raised money for three years to buy the $250,000 boat, which it started using last Easter.
Phillips says Sealegs doesn't suck up sea lettuce and weed like the organisation's old jet-engine boat. He says the new vessel also reduces response time.
"We can get Sealegs up to operating speed in six minutes - from the trailer to 30 knots in the water."
The Guard's main boat, called TECT rescue, is a 13m catamaran that sits in the water.
It has a large operating range and can stay out on the water for a number of days if needed.
We zip to Matakana Island, where Barker trades outboard motor for inboard and lowers the wheels on to the sand.
"Hold on," he says. Sealegs tilts from side to side as the craft crawls up the beach's slope.
En route back to headquarters, we learn the boat with the flat battery is running again with help from another boatie.
Barker tells us this is fairly typical: many callouts resolve themselves without Coastguard's help.
"Last year, we had about 160 callouts and 120 where we actually put the boat out."
The Tauranga organisation has one full-time paid staffer (Barker), plus a part-time administrator.
Coastguard membership costs $85 per year ($10 for membership plus a recommended $75 donation). There are 2500 members who provide more than half the Tauranga branch's yearly operating budget of $300,000. Volunteers will help anyone, regardless of membership status.
The Coastguard charges $280 per hour to cover fuel costs for non-members, while breakdown assistance for members comes at no additional cost. "We'll always go and rescue someone," says Phillips.
"It's a cheap insurance policy and it supports what we do."
Barker adds, "It's definitely not a money-making operation.
"If we go to Mayor Island for a tow, it could be four to five hours to get the boat back."
The Tauranga Volunteer Coastguard covers an area from Waihi Beach to Maketu, including Mayor and Motiti Islands. It must leap double hurdles common to charities: maintaining volunteers and securing funding.
Phillips says, "We don't see any money from the Government. They fund national operating costs. One-hundred per cent of our budget comes from our own efforts."
These efforts include selling raffle tickets, securing major donors, getting sponsorships and hiring out the hall. Barker says the organisation has about 70 volunteers, half in radio operations and half on boats. They help raise money too.
"They join to go out on boats. All of this fundraising we ask them to do is on top. There's only so much you can ask of the volunteers," says Barker.
One of those volunteers, Todd Wakerley, started with the Tauranga Coastguard last October.
Wakerley, who manages bus builders when he's not on the water, says, "I've always wanted to be part of the Coastguard and never had the time. With the job I have now, the time was there. It's a chance to give back to the community."
Wakerley says he's making friends and learning new skills. "I've been in the harbour in Tauranga nearly 30 years. I know it inside and out, but never knew what all the navigational lights meant; to learn that is really cool."
Wakerley says he's also training to drive Sealegs and the TECT boat. He had six weeks of instruction Wednesday nights, plus weekends and extra exercises when his crew of eight works their week. Volunteers are rostered on one week out of every four.
"There's a time commitment but it's not massive and it's really enjoyable. It's a great bunch of guys we work with," he says.
The Coastguard doesn't run patrols. It takes direction from police in search and rescues such as the case of five-year-old Jack Dixon, swept to sea from the base of the Mount last October.
Phillips says, "We run a low profile in terms of rescue services. We're sort of the silent soldiers. Several times a year we're dealing with people who've lost lives."
Barker says training radio operators to handle Mayday calls - the most serious form of distress alert - is crucial.
"It doesn't happen often but we train them very early how to deal with it when someone's life is in danger. Maybe it was a boat accident or a fire on the boat and they've got to abandon ship. Those are the ones they've always got to be ready for."
Phillips says the mostly retirement-age radio operators can have a high-pressure job during the height of summer.
"If something goes wrong, they've gotta learn to calm people down and let them know things are gonna work out."