Freediving freedom in Greece
June Samaras
January 5, 2008
Freediving freedom in Greece
http://travel.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/travel/destinations/greece/article3131626.ece
The modern sport of freediving has its roots in the ancient Greek
sponge trade. Richard Fleury takes the plunge
Diving students practise relaxation techniques
Richard Fleury
In my hands is a square slab of marble on the end of a long rope.
Called a skandalopetra, it is a centuries-old Greek sponge-diver's
weight.
It is impossible to know how many divers were pulled down to the
bottom of the Aegean Sea by this stone. And how many didn't make it
back to the surface. But I imagine their fingers gripping its rounded
edges as I hold my arms out, tip forward and plunge off the boat's
prow and into the blue.
This traditional diving technique dates back to the time of Aristotle.
Fishermen used it to reach depths of more than 30m (100ft), where they
harvested valuable sponges for as long as they could hold their
breath.
I struggle to grip the slippery 13kg (29lb) lump as it drops through
the water. When it thumps on to the soft sand and waving seagrass on
the sea-floor 15m down, I wrap the rope around my arm and give a
couple of firm yanks. On this signal, I'm hauled back to the surface –
and my next breath – so shoulder-dislocatingly fast I feel like a
marlin being reeled in.
I am visiting the Dodecanese sponge-diving island of Kalymnos,
learning to explore the underwater world on a single breath with an
international group of freedivers.
The sport of freediving – diving without breathing apparatus – is the
modern evolution of ancient skin diving. And the skandalopetra, a
national treasure on loan from the island's museum, is a physical link
with those courageous early divers.
"That's the most fun thing I've done all year!" beams Anna von
Boetticher as she surfaces from her first skandalopetra dive. Anna, an
accomplished scuba diver, has been freediving for two years. But like
all the instructors on this course, she is part-fish, her body trained
to perform mind-boggling underwater feats. The Berlin bookshop owner
has already reached almost 50m, earning her a place at the world
championships.
It is sometimes said that scuba diving is about what is happening
around you and freediving is about what is going on inside. Meditative
and introverted, it is the opposite of an adrenalin sport. Instead it
is about relaxing, banishing panic and conserving oxygen. The calmer
you are, the longer and safer your dive. When you are 20m away from
your next gulp of air, a pulse-quickening squirt of adrenalin is,
frankly, unhelpful.
That may sound frightening, but our bodies come equipped with a
sophisticated repertoire of responses to submersion, including an
automatic slowing of the heart rate. Some scientists believe this
"mammalian dive reflex" points to an aquatic phase in human evolution.
Watch a top freediver gliding through the water and the theory is not
so hard to accept.
"Freediving is about redefining your own personal limits, getting to
know yourself, your body and learning more about your physiology,"
says London IT expert Simon Reid, a leading instructor and former
British team member.
This fortnight-long freediving summer school has become an annual
fixture since organiser and world-class instructor Emma Farrell was
invited here as a guest of the first Kalymnos International Diving
Festival in 2004. Established to attract leisure divers, the festival
is a celebration of the rich diving culture of Kalymnos. Its divers
declare themselves the world's bravest and best. But their bravado has
proved costly. Commercial pressures and a risk-taking mindset left
many dead or damaged. Even today it's not unusual to see a former
diver limping along the waterfront with a stick.
Kalymnos was once the wealthiest island in the Dodecanese and the
centre of Greece's sponge industry. Hundreds of boats sailed from
Pothia, the island's capital, in search of "Kalymnian gold". Today,
thanks to overfishing and synthetic sponge manufacture, only five
local boats operate.
"Kalymnians have a big problem without sponges," says Sakellaris
Atsas, owner of the Kalymna sponge factory on the outskirts of Pothia.
"The industry was worth millions of dollars so people didn't think,
'What if something happens; what are we going to do?' So now they
start with tourism in the past 15 years."
That late start means, compared with many Greek islands, neighbouring
Kos for instance, Kalymnos remains relatively unspoilt. A small,
friendly, low-key island, its rocky limestone terrain and underwater
beauty attracts climbers and divers rather than the ouzo and UV crowd.
The port of Pothia, a jumble of flat-roofed buildings and narrow
back-streets with good cafés, restaurants and bars, has barely grown
since the sponge industry's heyday.
Our mornings begin on the quayside as we board the dive boat that
serves as our floating classroom. Much of the course is so-called
"line work". Clipped by wrist lanyards to weighted ropes, we work on
technique, safety drills and depth. Wearing elongated fins for more
powerful kicks, we descend slightly farther with every dive. I
eventually manage to fin down to 16m, where the end of the line is
marked with a plastic plate. Something is scrawled on it in a black
marker: "The only way is up!"
Freediving, inevitably, has its dangers: the biggest being blackout
from oxygen starvation. The golden rule is never dive alone. Why is
perfectly illustrated when one student surfaces from a supervised 20m
dive, takes a breath and promptly passes out in front of his
instructor. "I didn't know anything about it," says George Brown, a
London gym manager, once he is safely back on the boat.
To condition our systems to tolerate longer breath holds, we practise
in an outdoor pool. Called "static apnoea" this discipline is a mind
game. Floating face down, we embark on elaborate head trips to
distract ourselves from our bodies' increasingly urgent reminders to
breathe. I imagine walking barefoot along a sandy beach, collecting
shells with my son. This pleasant mental stroll lasts for two minutes
and 45 seconds, until my fourth involuntary chest contraction
persuades me to rejoin the world of air. Abbi Kinghorn, a research
scientist and newcomer to freediving, manages three minutes and 20
seconds. "I think I am just good at relaxing," she says.
People freedive for different reasons. For some, it's a physical
challenge; others are on a journey of self-discovery. For me, it is
about the strange sense of peace to be found down there. What should
be a hostile, alien environment feels natural and pure. Without the
rasping of scuba gear, you are submerged in near silence with the
distant wash of the waves above and the tiny clicks of fish feeding on
the reef. It's like flying in a dream. For a minute or two at least.
Need to know
DeeperBlue's Freediving Summer School in Kalymnos (01373 814666,
www.deeper blue.net/courses/greece) runs for two weeks from July 6.
Three-day beginner's courses cost from £299. More information:
www.emma-freediver.co.uk.
Getting there: EasyJet (www.easyjet.com) has flights to Athens from
£49.09 return.
Ferries from Piraeus to Kalymnos take about ten hours. Flights from
Athens take one hour.
Staying: Kantouni Beach Hotel (00 30 22430 47980,
www.kantounibeachhotel.com) has double studios from £27.
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June Samaras
KALAMOS BOOKS
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