Beach competitions among young lifeguards-in-training are still popular in Australia, but several of the long-standing traditions are fading. WSJ's Geoffrey Rogow reports from Sydney.
SYDNEY—In Australia, a national tradition is under threat.
On summer weekends, members of elite squads head to the beach. Standing like guards outside Buckingham Palace, participants parade up and down, barefoot on the sand, practicing a pageant that mixes the pomp of military ceremony with "Baywatch."
In the march past, as it is known, teams of 12 lifesavers, often including either a drummer, bugler or bagpipe player, march in perfect lock step in competition, clad in caps and Speedos. Four members carry a heavy antiquated wooden reel once used to fish people out of the water, while others hold a club flag. Judges deduct points for moves like uncoordinated arm swinging and shabby form at attention.
Harvie Allison, Surf LIfe Saving AustraliaLifesavers from Cottesloe Surf Life Saving Club in Perth march last year.
"It's dog eat dog with the march, and we take it seriously," said Keith Crampton, a 76-year-old member of the North Steyne Surf Living Saving Club, one of the nation's oldest.
But marching is falling out of step with some. New members joining lifesaving clubs that protect swimmers on the nation's beaches aren't that interested in the spectacle, clubs say. The clubs' growing youth program, known as the "Nippers" program, focuses more on swimming, fitness and water-safety skills.
For kids like 10-year-old Jamie Solon, marching is "just not cool." Jamie, trying to catch his breath after an arduous 600-yard ocean paddle that would defeat most adults, said he would "rather spend time with friends" than train for hours with older members of his club to take part in a march.
The uniquely Aussie phenomenon of beach marches dates back to the start of the last century when soldiers returned home from World War I and began forming surf lifesaving clubs—groups that patrol local beaches and act as centers for the community. The clubs are coed. The marches are designed to showcase the skills of a lifesaving patrol working as a team.
"It's a military formation, just in a swimsuit," says Louis Tassone, a 50-year-old marcher and judge from the North Curl Curl Surf Life Saving Club.
Curl Curl is part of an area known as the Northern Beaches, the heartland of Australian beach culture, where clubs are locked in fierce rivalry.
Nearby Manly has three separate surf lifesaving clubs, and marches used to act as a kind of ritual to mark out territory, display the strength of each club and attract new members.
The clubs are the centerpiece of the country's surf lifestyle. Tony Abbott, head of Australia's opposition Liberal-National coalition and a contender to lead the country, is a longtime member of Manly's Queenscliff Surf Life Saving Club. While Mr. Abbott isn't a marcher, he still takes part in member activities, including beach patrol.
Every year thousands of spectators gather along Manly's two-mile-long stretch of sand, 30 minutes north of Sydney, to watch teams of young people compete in a series of events known as Beach Carnivals.
But marching, once the main focus of Beach Carnivals, is in decline. These days, marching struggles to make it on to the schedule of some competitions.
"There's not that much interest anymore, which is a bit of a shame," said Greg Bennett, the 51-year-old co-founder of Bennett Surfboards, on the sidelines of a recent beach carnival. He was disappointed marching wasn't included.
When he was a kid, march past parades were the glamour event of the weekend, Mr. Bennett says. Stores would close nearly every Saturday in the summer and thousands would gather along the beachfront to watch the colorful events.
A hard-core group in North Steyne is determined that beach marching keeps moving forward. Mr. Crampton dedicates much of his time at the club to teaching young members about the importance of its heritage. The club, one of the original seven surf lifesaving fraternities in Australia, promotes regular march practice sessions and training.
They are winning some recruits. On summer weekends, 16-year-old Ellis Cooper-Frater heads to the beach with his swim cap, bathing suit and bagpipes.
The teen is part of the North Steyne club's marching team. On a recent afternoon, he and his buddies tuned up for their next competition, where they are focused on "making sure we're in perfect form," he says.
"A lot of clubs have just stopped doing the march or haven't done it for a few years," said Ellis, who spent the morning practicing playing old military tunes like "When the Battle's O'er," that will keep his comrades in step. "It's just sad."
In the clubhouse, in a room overlooking surf rolling in from the Tasman Sea, walls are adorned with black-and-white pictures celebrating beach marching in its heyday. There are plaques dedicated to the club's war heroes and famous alumni, including three gold medal winners at the 1924 Paris Olympics.
To fill their ranks with new members and lay the foundations for future lifesavers, clubs rely on the Nippers program.
On weekends, thousands of kids, some as young as 5 years old, take over many of Australia's beaches to practice swimming and water-safety skills. The Nippers program is popular, with 60,000 kids signing up last year. But this hasn't helped stalwarts persuade more kids to march. The event is only a peripheral part of the nationwide Nippers training program.
Marching isn't the only tradition fighting to survive. In a recent poll, the skullcaps worn by lifesavers young and old for 75 years were the second-most-recognized piece of Australian clothing after the slouch hats worn by Aussie soldiers. But these days, kids often throw the caps off immediately after competition.
Club members like North Steyne's 51-year-old Joe Mastrangelo have no qualms about wearing the caps, which come in the colors of each club. "We're black and gold and proud of it," he said.
Write to Geoffrey Rogow at geoffrey.rogow@dowjones.com
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