I was all set to live the dream on the island having borrowed a bouldering mat for the huge granite boulders dotted around the island, obtained the promise of cheap scuba lessons and even started thai kick boxing training. Then, in a fit of over excitement at all the potential, I went dancing and sprained my ankle, badly enough to need an x-ray on another island. The dream lay shattered in a pool of self pity and spilt vodka.
So in the week following the accident I realised that free diving was my best chance to get active, as my sprained ankle ruled out the use of fins needed in scuba (and bouldering and kick boxing and walking comfortably). Free diving is diving to depth without supplementary air, basically one long preparation-enriched breath at the surface and descend as deep as you can. That was my goal anyway. In the end I managed to go to 28 metres on a line, quite a surreal depth to descend to. I think its roughly equivalent to a 7 storey building and at the bottom your lungs have shrunk to almost a quarter of their surface size.
Training for all this involves a variety of techniques. Static apnea is basically holding your breath with the body at rest, which we practiced once in shallow water. Before whenever I tried holding my breath in a swimming pool I would last about a minute and come up bubbling. So I was not optimistic as I worked through the long warm up of structured breaths. But it seemed to work. The first two minutes were amazing. Your body is rich, almost doped, in oxygen. As you sink under the surface your senses are reduced to that lovely white noise of underwater sound, your eyes closed. The warm temperature of the water means your skin feels comfortably numb, the only sensation an occasional current rippling down the hairs on your legs.
My mind is empty. Floating there I have completely forgotten whats to come. After two minutes I start to feel uncomfortable, my body lying to me, wheedling, telling me I need to breath, seriously. I ignore it, a little peeved that the fun bit is over. After about another minute it starts to insist a little more persuasively. My diaphragm starts into contractions, slowly at first, kicking up into my lungs, trying to make me exhale. As the seconds tick by the contractions get more intense, my body physically jerking as the diaphragm starts getting a little desperate an I'm really fighting now. Finally I can hold it no longer and rise up from the water, aided by the instructor, and open my eyes, breathing in and out in controlled desperation. The world has gone white around the edges. A semi circle of 3 faces look back at me expectantly and then laugh as I sway drunkenly. Apparently my face is ghost white, my lips included. I have the air of someone who has just returned from somewhere narcotic. "Sheeeeeeit." 4 minutes on the clock. High five, I say and miss.
It would be remiss of me to pretend I was any good at it. I was technically the worst in my class (of 3) and have no aspirations as a free diver. But it all just impressed on me the hidden abilities and untold limits our bodies can attain if we know how to harness the power within.
Seriously.
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