Freediving Part II - Kona Advanced!

Following my intermediate freediving course with Performance Freediving in Malibu/Catalina, I leapt at the opportunity to take their six-day advanced course in Kona, Hawaii. Warm water, colorful corals and fish, and 100-foot visibility — how could one resist? So last Friday I found myself on the plane to Hawaii, oversized Riffe fins safely in the overhead bin, weight belt in the checked luggage (coals to Newcastle?), and brand-new silver freediving wetsuit carefully wrapped and ready to go. I'd been practicing and training for several weeks beforehand, and just a few days earlier had set a personal best of 5 min 45 sec for static breath-holding. My previous deepest dive had been 97 feet, just shy of 30 meters, and my personal (and ambitious) goals for the course were to attain a 6-minute breath-hold, and 40-meter (132ft) depth. Would I make it?

Friday afternoon I arrived, and had a few hours to look around and settle in. There was heavy construction on the highway near Kona, so the ten-mile drive took nearly an hour. However, I decided to drive halfway back up to stop at Blue Water Hunter, a dive shop specializing in spearfishing gear. I'm not all that interested in spearfishing, but hoped to find a set of carbon-fiber freediving fins; lighter and more efficient than my plastic ones. But the carbons are something of a rare commodity, and generally have to be custom-ordered; the store didn't stock any. So I spent the next few hours wandering around the little town of Kona, browsing the mostly touristy shops, enjoying the warm evening weather. Around ten o'clock one of my course-mates, DeeDee, arrived and we went to chow down on a sushi dinner. (The service was definitely island-time, but the food was tasty.) DeeDee had been at my static session where I set my 5:45 mark, and she had set her own personal best of 5:00. Both of us were aiming to go it one better.

Saturday began with a shared session between basic, intermediate, and advanced classes; a safety review and refresher. I had anticipated that the first day would be classroom and pool only, so I only had my standard scuba mask with me, instead of my low-volume (and delicate) freediving mask. We started out in the pool, with safety drills and easy breath-holds. I got to 5:15, not pushing it, knowing we still had six days to go -- being in Kona in August, the sun was directly overhead and there was no easy way to cool off, even in the water in a tight form-fitting wetsuit. Of course, immediately after lunch we headed to the ocean; a beautiful site known as Honaunau Bay, the Place of Refuge. In ancient Hawaiian times, any person who violated a kapu (taboo) could come to this sacred site and be absolved, provided they survived the swim across the neighboring shark-infested bay. So naturally, we jumped right in the water and swam out to the deep channel, 45m of crystal blue.

On that first day of diving, my full-size scuba mask felt huge, almost like a miniature glass-bottom boat on my face. In freediving, the mask forms an incompressible airspace that must be equalized as you go deeper, by exhaling air into it. This takes directly away from usable air, and can have a significant impact on achievable depth. Some freedivers even use fluid goggles (filled with saline) to remove this airspace completely, and to maximize their depth. But on this day I wasn't aiming for records; just re-acclimatizing to the feeling of going deep, pulling slowly down the line to 10 meters, then 15 meters, then 20 meters, each time waiting a minute or two until feeling the urge to breathe, then pulling slowly back up to the surface. We tested ourselves for buoyancy on these pull-downs, adjusting our weight to be neutral at 15m depth. (For me, that turned out to be 5lbs.)Then we performed two target dives, for me 29m and 27m, kicking both down and up. I experimented with the dolphin-kick technique; moving both fins together, rather than alternating left-right. In theory the dolphin-kick is more efficient than a flutter-kick, but takes some practice and uses a different set of muscles.

We finished off the ocean session with two rescue scenarios; timed dives to 10m and 20m to meet a deep diver on their way up, and assisting them to the surface. On my second rescue dive, Mandy wasn't expecting the rescue quite yet at 20m and at first shook me off, then remembered what she was doing and went limp. After all the day's activity, it's a very a long swim up from 20 meters, towing another diver! Especially because I hadn't brought any water out to the rig; after a couple hours of diving, I had gotten very dehydrated. But on return to Kona, we scarfed down a delicious dinner at Thai Rin (loads of carbohydrates, no alcohol) and gladly called it a night.

Sunday brought more classroom training, with some advanced techniques not covered in the intermediate course. These included packing, or forced overexpansion of the lungs to increase maximum breath-holds and depth. (Kids, don't try this at home!) We also experimented with reverse-packing, or using the throat and jaw muscles to force more air out of the lungs beyond an ordinary exhalation. This requires a fair amount of coordination, and for me it became the trickiest part of the deep freediving.

After lunch, however, I started feeling somewhat under the weather, like the beginnings of a sore throat. Exhibiting an uncharacteristic abundance of caution, I opted to skip the ocean dive, in favor of a three-hour nap. (The last thing I needed was to develop a cold, with four days to go!) Luckily, the nap did the trick, or else it could have been just residual jet-lag, or perhaps the vog from the volcano. On the advice of DeeDee and some of the other freedivers, I picked up a bottle of NeilMed Sinus Rinse, which simulated the effect of having a snootful of seawater blasted up one's nose after a particularly bad wipeout. But oddly, it did seem to help. I joined the group that evening at La Pasta for some surprisingly good Italian food; calamari so tender, I thought we must be in the middle of the Pacific Ocean (oh, wait), and an unusual but tasty fusion coconut spaghetti.

Monday began in the pool; another round of statics, this time with extra packing to fill the lungs. On my third hold I pushed it to 5:30, still not quite my limit; I still presumed we'd have another chance before the week was through. Also, the overhead noontime sun was uncomfortably hot, especially for activities that require staying as peaceful and relaxed as possible! After a break for a light lunch, and giving ourselves plenty of time to digest, we headed back down to Honaunau for the next round. (I had the proper mask with me this time; the ultra-low-volume plastic Sphera.) I chugged a bottle of artificial pink Gatorade Berry Blast, and this time took my water bottle with me out to the dive rig. After easy pull-downs to 10m, 18m, and 23m, it was time to do some deep dives. My first was to 32m (106ft), an easy personal best, though I didn't quite make it to my 35m target. The pressure at depth triggered the stretch receptors in my diaphragm, prompting the urge to breathe, even though I still had plenty of air. But as soon as I began ascending, the feeling went away. This reflex is overcomeable with repetition, so on my next dive I resolved to fight through it and go deeper. After a long breathe-up, I dove down again, but hit the wall at exactly the same point: my depth was 33m (108ft). I had one more chance, and through sheer force of will, managed to reach the target plate at 35m (114ft). I dolphin-kicked my way back to the surface, dropped my arms at 10m, exhaled as I reached the float, took my recovery breaths, and it was time for high-fives! We practiced a few more rescue drills, and called it a very happy day.

Tuesday gave us a break from deep-diving, and we spent the morning at the local recreational pool, practicing our dynamic skills. We spent half an hour constructing neck-weights for ourselves, out of inner tubes, lead shot, and duct tape, to give us the proper balance and trim in the water. (Apparently, neck weights have a tendency to vanish out of airplane luggage, due to their uncannyresemblance under x-ray to pipe bombs.) The swimming lanes were 25m, and after establishing weighting and trim (for me, 3lbs on the neck and 6lbs on the waist), we took a few underwater laps, establishing our dolphin kick technique and style. We worked on our turning skills, touching the wall and twisting to change direction. We swam through several 50m dynamics, and I had a chance to try out a monofin for the first time. It certainly felt different to have my legs locked together, but it also felt much more efficient and streamlined, and I looked forward to trying it in the ocean! Finally, we kicked off our fins and tried a few laps of dynamic-no-fins, with a modified underwater breaststroke. I made 50m a couple times, and felt like I could have gone even further. We didn't get a chance to try for full dynamic target swims, but it was great to get a bit of experience in the pool.

One of the women in the basic course, Rachel, had never been in water more than six feet deep in her life, and had previously hated the ocean and the beach and the water. But after the first day she was hooked; she ended up tagging along with the advanced course for the rest of the week, and eventually pulling out an amazing 3:40 breath-hold and 75-foot dive! Watching someone set a personal best by over a factor of ten is certainly a source of major inspiration. In the afternoon we took a field trip to some of the local dive shops, and I picked up an Aqualung MicroMask, a very low-volume mask with glass lenses that fit into the ocular orbit. A bit more robust than the Sphera, though not quite as low-volume, I looked forward to trying it out in the ocean.

Wednesday morning brought another session of diving in Honaunau, and I was eager to try to extend my depth past the 35m wall I'd been hitting. The bright noontime sun was a bit distracting, the heat interfering with the relaxation and dive reflex, and my new MicroMask must not have been scrubbed properly; it kept on fogging up. Still, I did my best, and went for thre deep target dives with the plate at 40m. On these dives, as a safety precaution, we used meter-long flexible lanyards to anchor ourselves to the line; in an emergency, the line could be quickly pulled to the surface, and we'd be pulled up along with it. This took some getting used to; the lanyard material had a tendency to snag and get caught on the line, but this actually helped me improve my dolphin-kicking form, because I found I had to stay a constant distance off the line to keep the lanyard straight. DeeDee appeared to be working toward her corkscrew-diving specialty, monofinning in tight circles around the line as she descended. (We know you're not straight, DeeDee, but this is ridiculous!) Though each of my own dives felt exceptionally deep, my depths were 111ft, 109ft, and 110ft, and I just couldn't seem to break through that psychological barrier to get deeper. Mandy calls this barrier "the monkeys", which is ironic, because I actually like monkeys... :) I would get down to depth, but my reflex to bring up air just wasn't there, so I had a hard time equalizing. On each dive I would get stuck at around 100ft, be forced to stop to think for a few seconds about what I was doing, feel the urge to breathe, and have to turn around and come back up. Also, the first dive gave me a pretty good ear squeeze, since I unwisely descended the last couple meters without equalizing. This all put me in a fairly frustrated mood, but I was still glad that we had one more day to go, and I was determined to conquer my limitations.

That evening I spent quite a long time visualizing my dives; I would hang off the end of the bed with my head and torso upside-down, almost like a handstand, and practice reverse-packing, opening my jaw to pull more air into my mouth, and exhaling through my nose. I also visualized the technique of doing several reverse-packs and exhaling into my mask, then one more reverse-pack, and sniffing in the mask air to create enough volume to get a good equalization. (The flexibility of the Sphera mask comes in handy with this technique.) I found that a bit of a squeeze with my core muscles helped the reverse-packing when it became tougher, and I visualized reverse-packing immediately after equalizing, so I'd always have the air to equalize when I needed it. I also visualized slowing my dive down; not kicking so hard to use so much of my oxygen right away, just swimming at a leisurely pace. I visualized becoming half-asleep as I entered the sink phase, focusing only on my equalizations. and letting my body relax. After a while, the sequence began to feel more natural, and I was optimistic about reaching my 40m goal the next day.

Thursday was the last day of diving, and after a morning spent finishing up our CPR certifications and reviewing videos of our dives, we headed back to the bay one final time. The weather was perfect; glassy water, overcast sky, but still warm. Out in the water, counting down the 45 minutes for our target dives, I quickly got in the zone; the warm-ups felt great, hanging out at 20m for two minutes before slowly pulling back up the line. I had my Sphera mask on, and felt totally relaxed during my target breathe-up. Thirty seconds to go, a few quick purges to get rid of CO2, ten seconds, five, four, full inhale, fifteen packs, roll over and dive. I pretended I was swimming horizontally instead of vertically; keeping my left hand straight above my head, equalizing with my right, focusing on conserving energy and equalizing. By 20m my lungs felt nearly empty, but I had no urge to breathe. At 30m I started to feel the squeeze, but my practiced equalizing reflexes were working fine, and I got a good mouthful of air without any problem. I continued to drift down, thinking I was around 35m, and heard some quick grouper-calls from Mandy to get my attention. I glanced at the line, and it was the candy-cane; I was at the plate! I grabbed the line, reached down with my dive-computer hand to tap the plate, swiveled around and started the dolphin-kick back up. I could see Kirk in the background, and he flashed me the shaka "cool" sign with both hands. The swim back to the surface was long and tiring; by the time I passed 20m I was pretty anxious to get to the surface. But I kept my form, dropped my arms at 10m, and reached the float with plenty in reserve. Six recovery breaths, and a glance at my gauge; 131ft, just a hair shy of 40m! My dive watch has a once-per-second sampling rate, so perhaps it missed the lowest point of my dive, but I had touched the plate, and could easily have plowed headfirst into the bottom at 45m if Mandy hadn't stopped me. Still, a personal best by over 5m, and was able to equalize all the way down; I was completely stoked!

We had time to do one more target dive, so I asked Kirk to set the plate at 42m, just so I could unambiguously break the 40m barrier. (Plus, 42 is the answer to the ultimate question of Life, The Universe, And Everything, isn't it?) So the plate was reset, and I began my breathe-up, ready to go for another personal best. After the exertion of my first dive, I wasn't quite as relaxed as before, but my confidence was through the roof. So the time counted down, I purged, packed, flipped... and started kicking down the line. I found it just as easy to make it down, and my equalizing technique was working fine, although by the time I reached the plate I was pretty sure I had reached my limit. I tapped the plate, turned around, and suddenly realized I didn't have quite as much air reserve as I thought I did!... Completely choiceless, I began dolphin-kicking my way up the line. The marks on the line went by far too slowly, and by 25m I started experiencing diaphragmatic contractions,either from the urge to breathe or from my diaphragm's stretch receptors, since I should have had plenty of air. With so much happening, I completely forgot to sniff in the air from my mask as it expanded, and it escaped uselessly out the sides, bubbling into the blue. At about 20m I dropped my arms; wishfully thinking that it would magically raise me to 10m so I'd have less distance remaining. My legs burned from dolphin-kicking; I switched to ordinary flutter-kicking, and for a few moments I considered signaling to Kirk or Mandy for help. Maybe they saw my eyes go wide through my mask. But I didn't want to give up unless I absolutely needed it; they were right next to me in case anything went wrong, so for the few seconds I thought about it, I kept kicking. And pretty soon, I glanced up and the float was above me; the air expanded to fill my lungs and I felt much better. I exhaled for the last couple meters, broke the surface, cleanly completed my recovery protocol, and gave high-fives! My gauge read 137ft; right around 42m, with a total dive time of 1 minute 31 seconds! Woohoo!!

After a round of safety drills, including a sprint to 10m and back followed by a rescue swim (it's amazing how effortless a 10m dive seems after this course, considering that that was my personal best only a few short years ago), and Rachel's amazing tandem swim with Mandy to 75ft (they told her the plate was at 66ft, to trick her into swimming deeper), the course came to a satisfying end. We took our hero shots on the lava rock in our silver suits and long freediving fins, then went out for a celebratory dinner. Our other course-mates, Howard and David, had both done very well; everyone had made it to 30m, and we all looked forward to our next chance to try again, even though all of us were glad to have the break. Howard had been on track for a comfortable 40m dive, gotten a full mouthful of air to equalize, and then inexplicably swallowed it, cutting his dive short. My shoulder, which had been bothering me all week from carrying a heavy kayak the week before, decided that evening to lock up; I could barely move my head, and it took several motrin to start feeling normal again.

But for all that, we had had the time of our lives, and were already planning our training schedules and repeat visits, with a refresher course coming up in Kona in November. I've been working on my static tables (currently O2 level 10, CO2 level 10), and recently did a five-minute hold with no contractions at the end of an O2 session, so six minutes seems in sight. I also experienced my first a samba while practicing the CO2 tables; I hyperventilated through the 15-second break between the final two 3-minute holds, and after I took my deep breath and five packs, I simply couldn't hold the air in, with some of it escaping in a series of weird staccato 'moogli' noises. Even as it happened, I was laughing to myself at how silly it sounded. After a few seconds my CO2 levels normalized, and I got control back, though I barely managed to hang on through the 3-minute hold. Again, the point of these exercises is to establish and expand one's limits, so one can dive comfortably within them. Freediving is a one-of-a-kind sport, strange and indescribable but wonderful and addictive. I have to thank Kirk and Mandy and the team once again for providing such an intense experience, and encouraging me to break through boundaries I wouldn't have thought possible! Kirk and Mandy, your efforts are appreciated very, very deeply :)

Update, 8-31: First 6-minute static today(!), thanks to some unintentionally clever psychology by DeeDee! (I expected the first signal at four minutes, and steeled myself to keep going two minutes after the signal, but she signaled me at 4:30.) Contractions starting light at 4:30, strong by 5:30, but I felt like I had plenty of air; could have gone another fifteen seconds if I had to. Came up clean, strong and focused. Woohoo!! (Thanks D!)