Wednesday, 30 June 2010
There is not much to be said about the last comp day, except that it would have been a day for Linda’s chicken card. Lots of athletes turned early, including some of my coaching protégées. I will have to consider dropping them, as I am clearly in high demand and cannot waste my time on chicken divers. Also, they are spoiling my track record. My only success was Jakob, whom I managed to talk out of his holiday mode and into doing a nice dive. I just told him he had to put pressure on Jesper. Works every time.
I was a failure myself, turning once again at exactly 53m with a non cooperative left ear. Coach Martin would be proud of me for being so sensible and not pushing things. I think I’m quite proud myself, actually. Anyway. Now for the fun stuff: as soon as we got out of the water, we entered party mode, as usual. As is standard custom, this was hindered by the dreaded banquet, but we have been well trained by previous occasions and got all the speeches out of the way, briefly enlivened by throwing cherries at the French table, which we got told off for quite sternly. The party finally kicked off when we decamped to the bar, which was next to a pool. Now you may guess what had to follow. It was all instigated by none other than Nicolas Guerry. He started by going up to people and telling them he needed to just check their key card, which he would then flick into the pool. I am glad to report that I was not the only one thick enough to fall for this. I doubt there were many people left with access to their room after an hour.
After I got chucked into the pool at Rush in Dahab after a triple depth party a couple of years ago, an experience which I did not appreciate, I had decided to stay dry this evening. The first to go in was Stavros, and soon Nicola and his friends were on the prowl for new victims. Strategy is everything in situations like this, so I had cunningly placed myself next to the largest man around, in the shape of South African cameraman Barry. As soon as any wet men came to get me, I just flung my arms around his neck and clung on for dear life. This proved amazingly successful for about an hour. The guys approached several times, thought about various angles for grip or lift, simply got pushed away by Barry once or twice, saw that they had no chance and left to find another victim. Just when I thought I might stay dry, after all, they hit upon a new plan: they put Stavros in charge of the military operation to get us in the pool. It took about ten guys. It was also the beginning of the end of the party, as everyone was now too cold to continue much longer. The poor guy in reception was faced by around forty freedivers, dripping all over the floor, demanding new key cards. Not sure if they will have us lot back next year...
Next up was a hangover flight to Rhodes, to take part in the Skandalopetra Games at Lindos. Skandalopetra is one of the oldest ways to dive, used by the Greek sponge fishers hundreds of years ago. It’s simple: a rope is tied to a flat marble stone. You just hang on to the rock to get pulled down, and when you have enough, you pull the rope and your mate at the top pulls you back up. Essentially, it is a very basic form of no limits diving. Herbert did a world record of 107m last year, which the organisers had asked Stavros to come and break. There is a minor problem: you are not allowed a wetsuit, fins, mask, or anything else, except swimming trunks and a noseclip. This presented me with a challenge the guys thought quite excellent: you jump in with a 10kg stone - I promise you: the bikini does NOT stay on. Somehow, everyone wanted to take pictures or be in charge of video all of a sudden. But hey, we women are creative with outfits, so I managed to dig out a sports top and a pair of hotpants that I held in place with my weightbelt. It worked beautifully, except once, when I forgot to tighten the belt and it nearly all went wrong.
The event was organised by a guy from Thessaloniki called Nicolas. He was extremely welcoming and kept telling us about the 100 people that would turn up shortly. We kicked off with about ten, which was fine by us. The municipality had arranged an enormous platform for us to dive from, which was all very well, only the thing did not seem very seaworthy and needed to be towed out of the very narrow entrance to St Pauls bay, in which it was moored, every day. The first time, we took bets to see if we would be shipwrecked on the rocks on the way out, or out there in the distant sea when the wind picked up, smashed by the waves. Since the platform was kind of yellow, it quickly got dubbed the ‘SS Saganaki’ – Saganaki being a slab of fried cheese, for those who are not acquainted with Greek cuisine, and also Will’s favourite dish of the week. The SS Saganaki was piloted by captain Tsaziki, who managed to shout commands on anyone who came near. Amazingly, they anchored the thing in around 70m of water on the first day, so we did actually get to do some dives. Visiting the thermacline at 27m with no wetsuit on was an interesting experience, I tell you. As we were told that it was customary to compete in teams, Philipe and I joined forces and became team Germany/Canada. When I got ready to handle the ropes for his dive and to pull him back up, I was greeted by slightly worried stares from the Greek side, who were clearly not used to the sight of a blond girl handling ropes. It was surprisingly easy to get him up – as long as the diver stays streamlined and you don’t break you rhythm, it is fine. Had there actually been a competition, I reckon team Canada/Germany would have kicked ass.
Every day we were told 100 people would arrive, every day we went out with ten divers and a lot of hangers on, including a dog. As six of the ten divers were made up by us lot, I am a little surprised at the lack of Greek participants. Maybe they were all frightened away by the prospect of being beaten by a girl and a Canadian? Anyway, Stavros was to do a deep training dive on day three, so we went out with the Saganaki ship, dropped the 110m of anchorline in 105m of waters and proceeded to drift along the coast towards Turkey at a rate of several knots, until we got stuck in around 52m of water, where some guys jumped in to dive, only to find that there was a ripping current taking them off at a 45° angle to do a no limits dynamic instead. It was weird. The platform was populated by terribly serious looking CMAS officials, which always brings out the very worst in us, in the shape of a quickly rising urge to be extremely silly. Since Stavros could not do his dive, we had him visualise the performance instead (see picture above), and to be proper, we made Manos visualise the safety, Fred visualise taking pictures and Will visualise pulling the rope. Had we been able to find a judge to visualise giving the white card, the record would have been valid.
Next up is a flight to Berlin, where I have ten hours to unpack and repack my bag, visit the bookshop to do all the work I should have done in the last four weeks, and rush back to the airport for a looooong journey to Okinawa, Japan. Sushi! Can’t wait.
Saturday, 19 June 2010
Now that I have the big dive out of the way, I have gone into holiday mode. The day after my record, I went out on the first boat, to open my coaching business, and spent all day bobbing in the waves and pressing my services on various people. A coaching success was Johan, who wasted no time in declaring the Swedish no fins record with 68m. He looked strong until he reached the surface, then he looked like he needed my help, so I yelled. He pointed out later that we have now given each other a national record, which I think is rather lovely. I was also able to help out Kerian, who had announced 80m FIM, with his pb being 60m. This was the first time I saw him a look a bit nervous. He had come up with an amazingly clever plan for getting comfortable on the dive. Turning at the bottom at 80m, he was going to start swimming up no fins until he felt good and got settled, then he was going to begin pulling. Have you ever heard such a thing? I felt it was my duty as a coach to cure him of his temporary insanity, so I looked at him as sternly as I could and said: no you’re not. You are not going to swim. You are going to pull. You are going to like it. He looked a bit surprised but gave in without discussion and had a lovely dive. I believe a combination of this and the superman suit has made him feel very brave, so he has declared 101m for tomorrow. I would like to remind you that his pb of a few days ago is 90m. Balls of steel, said a fellow diver. I believe it will be my job to look after this one again. Can’t wait!
Good thing is, since I have pretended to have a share in getting Kerian to do good dives, he has put a word in for me with blue seventy, and I am now the proud owner of prototype superhero suit, see above. If this makes my diving go the same way Kerian’s has gone, it will be quite brilliant! It looks good in pictures, too, which is obviously the most important thing of all. Guillaume has announced 118m for tomorrow, which will be a pb for him. I reckon it will be an easy dive – I saw him surface laughing after 114m. Superheroes wherever you look, I tell you.
Of course we freedivers have a lot of downtime, and we never seem to run out of silly things to get up to. The other day a crowd of us had gathered around the pool, when safety stud Daan accidentally (well...) fell into the pool with one of the sun loungers. More furniture soon followed, and instant fun was had by all, diving down to have our picture taken by Laura. Problem was, the owner of the hotel was actually swimming in the pool himself, and although we made a vague effort at being discreet, he eventually realized that we had sent his chairs to the bottom and proceeded to have sense of humour failure, in Greek, at whole bunch of freedivers, who sat on the side of the pool, a picture of innocence. We have decided that the guy is the Greek answer to Basil Fawlty, wandering around the place, ready to pounce on people when they least expect it. The photo shoot was followed by a pack-a- much-as-you-can- and-then-check-how-floaty-you-are- competition, which was won hands down by George. She still floats with two neckweights on. Amazing.
We have a special sleep study going on here, so random athletes have been getting all wired up. It was Livy’s turn the other night. Check her out:
I believe this is a very clever study indeed. They wire you up like that to check for sleep disturbances, thus making sure that you will effectively be getting NO sleep at all. We could not stop laughing when we saw Liv, and immediately started to make up lots of ways to mess with her. The highlight came when she told us to cut it out and be quiet, since the thing strapped to her chest was recording sound, to check for snoring, and movement. Tim and I were busy bouncing up and down on her bed and knocking the headboard against the wall within seconds, to see if we could make the scientist think she had had wired up robot sex. In between making grunts and groans we did give the game away by succumbing to fits of the giggles. Not sure what the scientist will make of this one.
Today was a rest day, so when the guys from the south African film crew offered to buy me a beer last night as I wondered into reception to try and write my blog, I decided it was time for my 100m beer. Little did I realize that the moment I took the first sip, I would be lost. Somehow, I ended up on the top of the cliff behind the hotel, dressed in flip flops and torn denim shorts, with a bunch of guys in equally shabby attire, entering the swishest bar around, full of women clad in high heels and mini dresses. I felt distinctly underdressed, which did not stop us from drinking beer and tequila and dance about merrily until five in the morning. I survived by tossing one tequila off the cliff, hiding one behind a flower pot, pouring one into someone else’s glass, and ditching one under the table. One of our guys removed his shoes and then went to sleep in the bar, one showed the most amazing dance moves to the locals, and one fell asleep in the corridor outside judge Ute’s room because his key card did not work and he failed to navigate his way back down to reception. All in all, a brilliant night, followed by an adequately painful hangover. I’m a little nervous about tomorrow night’s party. Help! Anyone out there to look after me? Please?
Wednesday, 16 June 2010
This morning, I was definitely back on track in terms of nerves – I had a hard time forcing down my porridge breakfast at 7:30am. Fred sat at the table with me, and heard a big sigh – oh come on, he said, looking at me all surprised. The nerves are not actually fear of the dive, it is just that I want to make it so badly, it makes me nervous to think that I might mess it up. Having listened to jokes along the lines of have a beautiful dive, did you have a beautiful dinner, and such things, I had asked Jakob to come out with me to calm me down and coach me. His job was to yell at me at the surface and get me to focus. As we sat in the dry boat, he told me quite sternly: Anna, you are not going to be happy and smiley when you come up. You are going to be grumpy and serious until you have seen the white card. I just nodded and said: ok. Ok. OK! He then went on to promise me a coffee for after the dive, which got me very excited, I tell you. Coffeeeeeeee!
Stavros went first, and someone should do a study of what the man eats for breakfast. First he was doing safety all day yesterday, then he went out early to set up the sled for his own record, then he just popped down to 150m and came up easy as you like. He was fully focused and said “I AM OK” very seriously when he surfaced, then let out a huge roar when the judges showed him the white card. Natalia was up next, having announced a variable weight world record with 125m. She has been trying out various combinations of mask, no mask but noseclip, fluid goggles with noseclip, fluid goggles without noseclip. This is the option she went for in the end, just holding her nose. I have not seen that before, but it seemed to work for her. She also took five kilos of weight off the sled, and went down with 15kg instead of twenty, which slowed her down a lot and made equalisation much easier. She got down and back fine, and has added yet another WR to her name. Doesn’t look like she’ll be stopping anytime soon.
I was next to go, and had an easy time breathing up with the sea once again flat calm. While visualising my dive, I focused on things such as equalising my mask before taking the mouthfill, which I did as soon as I released the brake – unfortunately, I was a bit too zealous and released a nice big puff of air into the sea. The second one escaped me when I overfilled my mouth and could not hold the air in anymore ( last time I checked, my hair was still blond). I could feel a cramp coming on at around sixty meters, which distracted me so much, I nearly lost my mouthfill, so equalisation was very complicated and I had to put a good long stop in at 82m. Finally the left ear cleared, and I dropped down to the bottom.
Getting off the sled, I was starting to think about what I needed to do, instead of just being excessively pleased with myself, which worked much better and kept narcosis at bay. I had a harder swim up this time, due to the longer stop, but Daan met me at 25m, and it always just wonderful to be in the hands of people you know will keep you 100% safe. Jakob did a good job telling me what to do on the surface, and I was all serious and said “I AM OK” instead of going on about how lovely the dive was, so Giota and Ute were finally able to give me my white card. Rarely have I been so pleased with anything. It was amazing, and I have to say thank you to the fantastic safety team, who just take care of everything and give you the freedom to go all out and do dives like that. Wonderful, guys, thank you thank you thank you!
Benny went right after me, and did a sweet and easy no limits dive to 105, another Australian record, so we rounded off the sled morning perfectly, with everyone back happy and well. I went to sit down by the beach after a quick shower, and was busy texting everybody, when coach Jakob came and rounded off the morning by bringing me a huge portion of the most fantastic chocolate ice cream. 100m ice cream – nothing tastes quite like it. I added the final touch with iced coffee after lunch, and am now feeling full, tired and as pleased as punch. Tomorrow I am having a day rest, and will be out to coach anyone who puts their hand up. So far, I have Kerian, who is not wasting anytime and has announced 90m constant weight, when his previous pb is 82. I like it, but am quietly getting ready to yell a lot when he comes up. He is followed by Jakob with 90m, too, then Will, with 87 no fins, a big dive I am excited to see. Next one is Niki from New Zealand, who has been doing brilliant no fins dives, in fact, she did 57m in training and is going for 59m tomorrow, pretty exciting with the world record being 62m and two more competition days to go. I am very happy to coach her, and will be sending my best good-dive vibes when she leaves the surface. She is followed by George, with 48m constant weight, and then Liv, who had a strong 60m swim with her fin yesterday and is going for 44m without fins tomorrow.
So that’s six so far. I’m sure I will pick up some strays when I am out there. I wonder if I could announce a world record in coaching the most athletes in one morning?
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
So. Much in my usual style, I declared a record dive without actually bothering to try the depth in training first. Surprisingly, I was not really feeling stressed at all this time, and did not spend all evening going round saying “I’m so nervous, I’m so nervous, I’m so nervous” to anyone who crossed my path. I woke up at five, but just calmly went back to sleep again, very unusual. Having my oatmeal with banana for breakfast, I was waiting for the nerves to hit me, but nothing. The “oh shit what have I done” moment finally arrived when I was putting my wetsuit on, and it was so bad, I actually considered being sick there and then.
Trying to see if staring at my feet in the clear water will make the nerves go away. It does not.
Outside, I was greeted by perfect conditions, a glassy sea, slightly hazy, in an eerie and very atmospheric way. I was the only one going for a record that morning, so had the warm up lines and the safety studs all to myself. The only non-Greek safety stud, Daan, was appointed as my coach, a role he took very seriously, including massaging my foot – I think he was trying to take my mind of giant knot that was in my stomach. I did just two warm-ups, both rubbish, decided they were not going to get any better, and went to climb onto the sled. Nik from Cyprus was in charge of my attempt, and did a great job at making me feel like everything was under control, including letting me know that he would be personally meeting me at 25m, which I love – nothing like knowing that someone you are happy to completely rely on will be there to keep you safe when you are going for the hugest dive of your life. Except for continuously thinking “oh shit”, all was well, so I released the brake and shot off into the blue. Equalisation worked very well, until 89m, where I could not clear anymore, so I stopped the sled and spent a few seconds trying to move the little bit of air I still had in my mouth into my ears, with no success. Hmmmm, I thought, how far can it be, looked down to see if the plate was anywhere near, and spotted the tennis balls. Seconds later I hit the bottom, with pressure on my ears but lots of air in the mask. Well. One might say there is room for improvement.
100m!! I admit to feeling excessively pleased with myself as I was finning back up. Going round in my head was mostly “I did it, I did it” with a brief “wow, it’s a long way” thrown in. Nik came to meet me at 25m, and I was just thinking what a great dive it was, when I broke the surface and proceeded to present the judges with the second most beautiful surface protocol ever. Sadly, it was not one that could be rewarded with a white card: I came up, did not bother to take a breath, started laughing while removing my mask, then gave three OK signs, and said, still laughing: “oh what a beautiful dive”. The second it was out of my mouth, I wanted to take it back, take it back, take it back, and replace it with “I’m ok”, but the reverse-the-time-space-continuum button did not work. Truth is, I was off my head with narcosis, in a very happy kind of way. I simply blurted out the last thing that was in my mind before I surfaced. Tomorrow I am going to repeat ImokImokImokImok the whole way up. In fact, I might start saying it to myself in my sleep later tonight. I guess I have had my training dive now, so all should go swimmingly. Benny gave me a radioactive sports recovery thingy to drink, itwas so vile, it has to be good. I think I am now glowing in the dark though - see below:
Now then, time to report some news and gossip from the competition. If mine was the second best SP ever, Stavros has the winning ticket. True to his superhero reputation, he went to quickly do a no limits record one morning, with 150m. The footage from the bottom camera shows him touching down, inflating the liftbag and on his way up in a matter of seconds. He was definitely fine. Then something happened on the way up, and he beat even me in terms of narcosis. The surface camera video is a thing of beauty: you see him come up, but then he stops to do a somersault just below the surface, which he has no recollection of. He then pops up, removes his goggles, points and shoots at the camera guy, and simply swims away! All the while he manages to look terribly cool and manly and in control. He will go again tomorrow, too, so we’ll see what new things we can come up with between the two of us. Other than that, we have had a great variable record from Benny, who unlike me, did a 100m training dive and then went on to get it white carded a day later.
Tim and Benny before the rubber ring challenge - don't ask
We have had to great days of competition, too, Guillaume just got a 110m dive out of the way on the first day, even more amazing as he was playing catch me with the tag down there, which he picked up and let float away several times before taking it back to the surface. Johan has amazed everyone by just going down to 65m without fins in the second attempt today, so the Swedish record is looking shaky. There are definitely small horns growing out of forehead by now. I had announced 58m free immersion yesterday, but decided to bail when my ears hurt and squeaked during my warm ups, since I want to save them for tomorrow. Instead, I coached lots of people, including Kerian Hibbs, who is looking great in a blue seventy suit he designed himself – we call it the superman suit, since it seems as soon as he puts it on he can do no wrong. Today he squared up to Guillaume – they both announced 70m no fins. Kerina went first, and I watched him sprint down off the surface and back up again without ever slowing down. He says he saw stars all the way up (more narcosis - the theme of the week!), but his superman powers kept him safe. Guillaume made it, too, around 30sec slower. He said he looked up from 20m, and was not sure how he was going to make it back, as there was nothing left in his arms, but he was laughing because the breath hold itself was still so easy. Jakob arrived the night before the comp, and went straight out to set a new Danish free immersion record with 75m, he said he laughed all the way up because it was so easy. Mark Harris from the UK also set a national record with 70m FIM; he went out to do his trademark constant weight with bifins dive today, 70m again, in ancient C4’s. We are all convinced that given a decent pair of fins, or, oh my god, a monofin, he would hit surprising depths. We love having his wife (well...) Laura here, since she just goes around and quietly takes lovely pictures that make us look like athletes, rather than a bunch of weirdos who exist on a diet of bananas and burp a lot. I also had the joy to coach Will today, who went down to 97m to grab the continental FIM record, with a loooong dive time, also dropping and catching the tag. Really guys, get it together!
Alright, there is lots more, but I have to go to bed, I promise more stories once I have the white card business out of the way. In our spare time, we have rubber ring wrestling matches in the pool, amongst other things. It’s lovely.
Saturday, 12 June 2010
Alright then, I’ll give you the story behind the last “pictures only” post. I was not going to be messed around by invisible ashes from Iceland again, so I came up with a clever plan: take a bunch of very deep, and very serious freedivers, get them all down to Nice, squeeze them on a sailboat and start training. The freedivers where: George, Liv, Elisabeth, Martin, Jakob and my friend Andy, who is a boarder and sailor, but we just made him into a freediver, too, so now he’s lost.
Elisabeth and I arrived first, and, since we are so serious, went straight out to dive, just next to the port of Nice, where the shore conveniently drops right off to 100m+. It was lovely, if a little fresh, with around 15°C on the surface and a charming thermacline hovering at about ten meters. I was doing my hangs at 9.6m. You get the picture. We both did a couple of easy dives, although I was holding back a little with some pain in my left upper jaw. Remember the Aspen dental disaster? Well, the tooth came out as soon as I got back, and the surgery for the implant was done the day before arriving in Nice. The guy not only drilled a hole through my jaw into my sinus, but also recommnded NO exercise for a week. Great.
Since I could definitely feel the new sinus-to-mouth connection on deeper equalisations, I was taking it easy the first few days, and did a maximum of 50m. We did couple of fun variables going down with the bottom weights, and I was beginning to feel a little adapted. One morning we had set to rope to 60m, where Elisabeth did a lovely dive, and I went after her with my alarm set to 48m and every intention to turn at 53. On the way down, I was testing a new thing I picked up from the Danish guys last year: if you cannot equalise, level off, raise your head, clear, drop down again. Since I was diving without packing and still messing around with the mouthfill, I missed a couple of equalisations and levelled off for the first time at around fifty. It worked beautifully, which got me quite excited, and I did the same thing again at around 55m. Raising my head, I could see the plate, which Martin had loaded with some tags, to make things more fun. “Oooooh, I can get a tag” thinks the blondie, and quickly drops down to sixty. Feeling terribly pleased with myself, I started swimming up, clutching my piece of velcro. After about ten meters, it started to feel kind of hard. Reaching forty, my legs were completely lactic. I struggled all the way to the surface, came up onto the buoy, forgot to take a breath and had my first nod off from a deep dive. Ooops!
Liv helped me to calculate descent and ascent speeds during my dive, and we soon saw that something was not right. I went to check my weighting the next day, and discovered that I was neutral at six (!) meters! No wonder swimming up felt kind of hard. I took it easy on the rest of dives, and stuck to the low fifties, looking for some adaptation. Liv had fun playing with no-fins-no-arms, which got her to 26m and gave her a new understanding of the power of her leg kick. Jakob did a lovely 72m dive in the gathering dusk and we got new freediver Andy all the way down to 17m. See? Serious, serious training. Yoga in the morning, then training, then sleeping, then eating, then training, then sleeping. Well, I will admit, there may have been the odd moment of silly behaviour and fun activities, such as climbing the mast and swinging from a rope. We did have mess-with-Andy-day and mess-with-Jakob-day, too, which were highly entertaining. All in all, we got the fun out of the way most days and then fitted in a little freediving, too.
I flew back to Berlin for a whole day, where I whizzed around and sorted out various things, before putting all my stuff back into my bag to head for Athens, and the third Mediterranean freediving world cup. I arrived a few days early, together with William and Phillipe from Canada, to see if we could get some pre-comp-dives in. Energizer bunny/organizer Stavros was busy rushing from one end of Athens to the other to buy a kilometre of rope and a couple of tons of weights, so it did not look good. I talked Will into coming to the pool to coach me in a static instead. Yes, you did hear right, a static, which I believe just illustrates the level of my desperation. Since I had done a total of two static sessions in the last eight months, having to surface after four disgusting minutes because I felt low on O2 should not have been a surprise, but I tell you, it was. I roped Phillipe into doing some more and am now back to 4:45, still horrible, but O2 fine. After three nights of being pampered with lovely food by Giota, we caught Stavros in a moment of weakness and he said yes to a quick diving expedition. We had to go and rent a boat, which, beautifully, was called the “fun-yak”, and got dubbed “f***-yak” right away. It was exactly like trying to ride a bathtub a couple of miles away from shore through the swell. There was more water in the thing than outside, and bits started to fall off it five minutes into the trip. Clever freedivers that we are, we had decided to do variable dives, just holding on to the weight. Will went first, aiming for sixty meters, and got to the end of the rope, which, strangely, turned out to be at 57m. I found all of fifty meters, and by the time it was Stavros’ turn, he had all of 48m! The f***-yak was drifting so fast, we were doing sideways depth, going shallower by the minute. To reward ourselves for this useful and clever training session and enormous exertion, we consumed an enormous dinner and then headed off to get serious in Kalamata the next day.
We invaded the Messinian bay hotel around lunchtime, and the poor staff got their first glimpse of the trouble they were about to be in. It started with Will, who was inspecting various rooms to see if he liked the bathtubs, and continued with the fact that half of us appeared to have arrived early, a problem in a hotel full of guests for a Greek wedding. Some people above my head have flooded a bathtub since then, we have been asking the poor waiter for olives and cheese when he doesn’t have any, half the people are vegetarian one day and eat meat the next, the other half don’t eat pasta or bread, and all of us want lunch and dinner at times when the staff usually have their break or are on their way home. It can’t be easy. One waiter tried to make sense of the situation, so he went around asking how many of us were vegetarian, so we immediately asked what the vegetarian option on the menu was, which got him looking quite suspicious. He finally relented and said: well, you can have some rice. As opposed to pork with rice, that is. You get the picture – I don’t think they quite understood what they got themselves into when they agreed to put us all up.
Training started last Monday. The boats are mooring so far away from land, taking the transfer out feels a bit like heading into international waters with a little rib. Every evening at around seven, Stavros puts up a list that we have to sign into, to get a training slot. This causes mayhem and lots of elbow action, since 34 freedivers all want to train at 10am, much in the same manner as all freedivers want to eat bananas. We have people from all over the world here again, including top divers Guillaume Nery and Natalia Molchanova, who has announced a variable world record and is training on the sled every day. So far, things have been mixed for her, since Stavros has got the big sled out here, which definitely resembles a rocket. I believe it makes a whizzing sound on the way down. She does not like the speed and has had some trouble clearing her ears, but still has a few days to go before her attempt.
Since I got no training in Athens (well, not counting the funny-yak outing), I did not think I could get close to my target depth for variable weight this time. Going out on the first day, I was distracted in the water, and totally forgot to take a mouthfill at the surface on my FRC warm up. This suddenly occurred to me at around ten meters, so I just brought air up without thinking about it, thus giving myself my first ever squeeze, on a warm-up dive. What can I say? Blond. Rest in the afternoon followed and then a careful 65m sled dive the next day, which went very well (except for getting a cramp just before I hit the bottom, minor detail), so I was considering either 70 or 75m for the day after. Coming up to the line, Stavros suggested 75, which sounded just fine to me, so off I went, on the rocket sled. I had a depth alarm at 65, and was wondering why I was taking so long to the bottom, when I finally had to hit the break having lost my equalisation due to another cramp. Pulling up I was a bit unhappy with myself for not equalising down to 75, and was thinking things like: I am not ready for a deep sled dive this time, it’s not happening, I’ll make a new plan, etc. Back at the surface, they all looked at me a bit funny, and Stavros kept trying to see my computer. In the end I checked it myself: 82,5m!! Apparently, there had been a bit of a misunderstanding with the rope, which was at 85m instead of 75m. They had a fun moment topside when the guy on the sonar shouted out “seventy meters – seventy five” and then, instead of “touch down – coming up”, he said “eighty?”, which had them wondering whether the sonar was broken. It was not.
Having thus just skipped a whole training dive, I took a day off and then went for ninety meters yesterday, no need to mess around when things are going well, after all. I woke up feeling kind of nervous, and was quite convinced that this was not going to happen all the way through my warm-up. I got on the sled, did a breathe-up without countdown, released the brake and went faster than ever. At 65m, I stuck my elbows out to try and slow down a bit, but looking at my profile, it made no difference. At around 80m, I cleared one ear but not the other, which I proceeded to ride to 92, where I opened my eyes to find that my mask was fully equalized! I even made it back to the surface without a cramp this time, and, apparently, came up and said “fuck that was good”, all on camera for the South African film crew who are here shooting a documentary. Dive time was 2:14, 92m at 58sec, average descent speed 1.7m. Last year, I did 90m in 2:40, but somehow the rocket descents seem to agree with me, and I have decided to waste no further time and have declared a record attempt for Sunday.
Cross those fingers! I need all the luck I can get.