Beach Tax

There are many natural phenomena that pertain to the sport of spearfishing.  For example, the shifting of the tides, the migrational patterns of fish, and the symbiotic relationships between many of the ocean's creatures, just to name a few.  But there are also many societal phenomena that are less well known.  Like how people always want a closer look at long blades, or how security always gets called when you dive in the country club's koi pond.  But perhaps the least known and poorest understood of these phenomena is the way people gravitate towards a full kui (stringer).  It's easier to drag a side of beef through the lion cage at the zoo than to get a full kui from the beach to your car.  Perhaps rather than using a kui we should use grocery produce bags.  No one would ever stop to take a look at your newly acquired head of cabbage.  If we came out of the water with a bag of McDonald's no one would ask for some, but people are just all too glad to relieve you of any excess fresh fish.  

Take this recent story as an example: It started one evening with me checking the weather forecasts: winds, waves, and second opinions on winds and waves.  It's what I do 90% of the time I'm not diving.  However, unlike the usual forecast of brisk tradewinds and high surf on the north shore, this time the prognosis was for light and variable winds and calm surf.  I had a number of things to do the next day, like clean the pizza boxes off my floor and attend to work which I had been neglecting even more than normal lately.  But those things would have to wait.  Working on a day like the one predicted could only be done by a spearfisherman in his right mind, and there's very few of those.  Besides, I needed to catch some fish to barbeque when my family got together on the weekend.  With that, my trip was justified. 

The next day turned out to be just what they forecasted (I didn't expect that); the Pacific was like a giant aquarium.  A "touch tank" to be more precise.  Assisted by the great conditions, I filled my kui with 4 uhus (parrotfish), 2 mus (bigeye emperor), a nice kali (goatfish), 1 papio (jack), several toaus (snappers), and a few nice, red menpachi (soldierfish).  As I lifted all the fish out of the water the metal bar of the kui dug deep into my fingers, gracing me with the pains of a successful spearfishing session. Unfortunately for my dive buddy, he had some technical difficulties, sinus difficulties, and lack of skill difficulties.  Like a kid on an Easter egg hunt he searched for a nice blue uhu, but when he came up empty I didn't think twice about giving him mine.  

After unloading that fish I strained to drag the rest up to the shower. There I saw my old friend Kimo, who had just finished paddling and was rinsing off.  He noticed my nice catch and remarked that it's been awhile since he had stuffed uhu.  Happy to help a friend, I parted way with one of the three, heaved the rest over my shoulder, and continued towards my car.  Visions of Chinese style steamed fish, baked fish, pan fried fish, beer battered fish, raw fish, grilled fish, and many more recipes danced through my head and tantalized my starved stomach. I was stopped by a few people who walked from across the street wishing to take a look at the fish I had gathered just offshore.  Glad to show respect for the locals, I handed off a couple toau.  A lady nearby mentioned that she, too, lived across the street.  Accustomed to taking hints from women, I doled out the rest of my toau.  I picked up my kui, still fairly full, and moved on to the car. 

Before I left I figured I should give thanks to the lifeguard for always watching over us.  I gave him a couple menpachi.  He thanked me for helping fee his family.  "I've got a biiiig family," he remarked pointedly, prompting me to pull a couple more off the kui.  "And my wife looooves sashimi."  Waving goodbye to my papio, I gathered what was left into a cooler.  I still had a nice variety of fish, so I headed to my dive buddy's house to drop him off and get more ice.  

While unloading my car, I found out his dad was setting up for a party.  The driveway, street, and some of the yard started to fill with cars of party guests, so I moved down the street a ways.  While I was gone, party guests, naturally attracted to coolers, discovered my fish.  Of course I wasn't going to refuse to donate my uhus to a good cause like a party.  One of the guests also requested a delicious mu be added to the menu.  I shrugged and watched the fruits of my 3 minute underwater tactical ambush disappear.  The danger of losing fish to sharks was beginning to look mundane and highly over rated.  Before I could leave I learned that the party was held to celebrate a birthday.  WIth a pick of any fish, it was obvious what the birthday girl would choose.  Having lost my kali, I grabbed the kui in my fingers and flung the remaining fish in the cooler, my spirit bearing the heavy burden of the light catch. What was left was barely enough for dinner Friday.  Forget about dinner the rest of the week, or even that night.  I didn't have time to cook anyway.  Instead I just grabbed a pizza.  I heard winds were forecasted to be light, so I had to get home to dry my gear and call into work in preparation for the next day of diving.  

About the author: Derek LeVault is an avid spearo and has enjoyed writing ever since he learned the alphabet at age 17.  Though the account you just read is based on a true story, it is not the author's personal story, as he is incapable of catching such amounts of fish.

Fluid Goggles

A high volume mask is like a parasite to the freediver, sapping precious, life-giving air every time it needs equalized on descent.  The primary feature divers look for in a mask is low volume.  Low volume is to a mask what 4G is to the cell phone, what moist and chewy is to the cookie.  It is an integral feature of a good mask.  In fact, it's so important, I say let's go off the deep end (I wish I named my podcast that- "off the deep end"), and say "Why stop at low volume?  Why not... no volume!"

How can you achieve "no volume?"  How do you eliminate that parasitic airspace required for sight?  The fluid goggle, that's how.

Fluid goggles use special lenses that allow you to flood the airspaces with water and still focus.  Bye bye mask equalization, and as a side benefit, you can wear a nose clip, allowing for hands free equalization of your sinuses.  Before we get too carried away, I should offer the disclaimer that you do sacrifice some clarity of vision.  You can't see nearly as well as you could with a standard mask.  But make no mistake, they're still awesome.

So where has this treasure been hiding all your life?  Well, you could buy them online from LiquiVision or Martin Stepanek.  I'm sure these are fine products, but what I would recommend is that you simply make your own.

You will need a pair of goggles, of course, and the lenses.  The lenses you need should be 20mm focal length.  The ones I got are medical grade 20x20 lenses from Anchor Optics.  They are part number 23086.

Then you just need to mount them in the goggles.  Put on your goggles and have someone mark where your pupils (use dry erase or a grease pencil) are centered so you know where to place the lens.  I epoxied some acrylic tubing with 20mm ID onto the goggles and slid the lens right in.  I used a pair of goggles I already had, but they eye pieces were a little small and I wasn't able to center the lenses, but they still work pretty well... at all depths without equalization!

Training Schedule

Here's what I'm going to do in order to try to increase my max constant weight depth from 220 ft to 300 ft:

October:

• Begin aerobic base training
• mainly long, slow bike rides
• Begin weight training
• lift a few times a week as a second priority to cardio work

November:

• Apex of aerobic base training
• Goal: 100 mile bike ride mid-month
• Begin harder cardio work
• intervals, working to (supposed) VO2 max, etc
• Continue with weights

December:

• Final month of dry land training
• Aerobic workouts
• Goal: 18:30 5K
• Weight lifting/ strength training (becoming priority over cardio)
• Goal: 20 pullups (increasing squat performance is a more prominent concern, but this is only a goal if I buy more weights for my "home gym")

January:

• Begin apnea and in-water training
• statics, FRC, VW dives
• Continue with brief cardio or weight circuits a few times a week

February:

• Conclude training by month's end.
• Goal: 300ft/91m constant weight dive

Everyday:

• stretching and breathing
• Goal: increase TLC to 11L and increase FRC depth to 40m
• Priority is always given to spearfishing on days with variables or other favorable conditions

As you can see, I'm not even concerned about getting in the water for the first 60% of my training period.  Hopefully this works.  It seems similar to what some other top divers do (such as Herbert Nitsch and Tanya Streeter).

Send me a message if you have your own program, and make sure to check out the Deeper Perspectives Podcast for updates.  I'll update progress on this blog also.

Residual Volume

Understanding residual volume and the mouthfill technique, and subsequently breaking through the depth at which you really need to understand these subjects, is sort of a dry and technical matter.  Unsure how to tackle the subject, I decided to rely on a fundamental technique utilized in educational institutions across America: plagiarism.  Joking aside, it's not actually plagiarism, I give full credit to whoever wrote this article:
The mouthfill- how to equalize deep in freediving
Also check out:
The Frenzel Technique, Step by Step

To practice these techniques, I'm using FRC dives and variable weight (as can be seen in Deeper Perspectives- Episode 6).  It really only makes sense to perfect equalization this way, rather than trying to head straight for the abyss.  Can you imagine trying to learn to drive, grinding gears, and riding your brakes  on the Autobahn?  Of course you wouldn't do that; you'd find an empty parking lot, a back road, or some other controlled environment.
Variable weight obviously allows you to concentrate on your equalization technique without the bother of all that kicking and oxygen consuming activity.  FRC allows for short and shallow dives that can be repeated many times in a session and easily monitored by a spotter.  I still don't precisely know what volume of air I'm working with on an FRC dive.  I think it's something like 40% (2/5) of my total lung volume.  By going to only 20 meters, I'm able to reduce that volume to 1/3 (http://www.ehow.com/how_7436_understand-underwater-pressure.html).  1/3 x 2/5 = 2/15.  This would be the same lung volume experienced at 7.5 atmospheres, or 65 meters.  In other words, you can experience the same pressure and equalization demands of a 200+ foot dive in less than 70 feet.  Of course, this also means you are susceptible to injuries normally reserved for deep depths, most notably lung squeeze.  So bear that in mind; this isn't professional instruction, I'm just some chump with a blogger account.

Lung Volume, Part 2

In Part I we described methods for measuring lung capacities.  But why would we ever do such a thing?  For one thing, it's just interesting to know.  As a freediver, I see it is a measurement as integral as my height or weight.  But more importantly, I want to see how my training affects my lung capacity and better understand what volumes of air I'm using during the various types of dives I intend to do.
A quick look at an online forum will let you know divers are always looking for ways to increase their lung volumes.  Frequently they ask about gadgets like the Expand-A-Lung.  These are unlikely to work, but the good news is you can probably increase your lung capacity without buying anything at all.  It is generally accepted that aerobic exercise will give you small gains in lung volume.  Stretching your upper body has also been reported to result in an increase in volume.  Lung tissue is somewhat elastic, so volume can be limited by an inflexible chest.  Packing relates directly to chest flexibility, but is a subject beyond the scope of this blog.  I intend to use it during my training, but packing-related injuries are numerous and well documented, so take that for what it's worth.  It is also highly advisable to learn proper breathing technique in order to maximize the volume you have.  I personally hope that through cardiovascular exercise, stretching, and breathing exercises to increase flexibility and perhaps lung capacity.
Although you don't need large lungs to dive deep, knowing the volume of your lungs will help you better understand your training.  Many freedivers hit a barrier at around 130 feet where they can no longer equalize.  The reason for this is lung volume, specifically residual volume.  Water pressure at this depth has reduced your lungs to 20% of their volume on the surface (roughly residual volume).  Remember, residual volume cannot normally be exhaled, and so advanced equalization techniques must be learned to go much beyond that depth.  If gains can be made to vital capacity without increasing residual volume (such as by packing or perhaps through cardiovascular exercise) you could push this depth deeper.  FRC dives will also be an integral part of my training, and it will be valuable to understand exactly how much air I'm retaining on a dive of this method (perhaps the subject of a future article).  Lastly, I don't currently pack on my dives.  However, I was surprised to find I add 50% to my vital capacity through packing.  Of course, the last few packs I do make me want to pass out, so through experimentation I hope to find an optimal compromise between added volume and comfort.
So measuring your lung volume can be a fun and informative training tool.  That said, it is far from crucial.  Whether you find out you have small lungs, or you never test your lung volume at all, you can still reach abyssal depths.

Don't forget to check out Deeper Perspectives- Episode 5

Measuring Lung Volume

I think you could still dive well without arms, sight, or even missing a leg.  But everyone agrees, you definitely want your lungs working optimally.  You'll frequently see questions on forums regarding increasing lung capacity.  To what extent you can do this, and whether it's necessary are both debatable (and we will debate them in future articles).  But in order to know if you've increased lung volume, you must first know what your lung volume is.
Let's lead off by learning the language of the lungs.  A few terms need to be understood.  First is "vital capacity."  Take a big breath.  Now exhale all the air you possibly can.  The volume of air you just exhaled is your "vital capacity."  Try as might, you didn't actually empty your lungs.  A small amount of air called your "residual volume" was still left over.  Combine these two measures (vital capacity and residual volume) and you have your "total lung capacity."  The average adult has a total lung capacity (TLC) of somewhere around 5.5L, made up of about 80% vital capacity and 20% residual volume. But what's yours?

The best way to measure your lung volume would be a spirometer, which is a medical device that none of us have.  What you probably do have, or can get for a couple bucks, are a clear plastic container larger than your lungs, a larger container filled with water, and a plastic tube to make a water displacement apparatus.  Calibrate the clear plastic container by dumping water in a liter at a time and making a mark.  Then, put this plastic box up-side-down in a larger container and fill with water (making sure no air is trapped in your up-side-down box).  Slip one opening of the tube into the up-side-down container, take a big breath, and exhale fully into the other end of the tube.  The contents of your lungs are now trapped in the box you have marked volumes on.  Make sure it's floating level and take a reading- that's your vital capacity.
An even easier method of measuring your vital capacity is to measure the circumference of a balloon you have exhaled into.  Unfortunately, this method is fraught with even more inaccuracies than the previous one.  Generally balloons are not exactly round, and therefore a volume cannot be extrapolated from their circumference.  I have taken the average of multiple circumferences of a single balloon to calculate a volume, and it seemed to compare similarly to volumes measured with the water displacement apparatus.  I also think it's a little harder to blow into a balloon than a plastic tube with little resistance.  Air can also be lost when tying the knot.  Nonetheless, I guess it's still a valid method for it's simplicity.
Residual volumes are a little more difficult to measure.  The simplest way is probably to use figures published in medical journals.  Divide your vital capacity by 4, and that's a good estimation of your residual volume.  I would like to try exhaling all my air at 10m below the surface, leaving me with only my residual volume.  Upon ascending, this volume will double, leaving me with a volume of air available for exhalation (a de facto vital capacity of sorts) equal to my residual volume.  I could then measure it with the displacement apparatus or a balloon.  In fact, I will do that soon.  Then we'll be able to see how it compares with the simple division method, which is all I've attempted so far.
So how does this all pertain to freediving?  Once again take a deep breath.  Now gently exhale, relax, and wait until next week for part 2 of this article.

Don't forget to check out Deeper Perspectives- Episode 5

Tax

There are many natural phenomena that pertain to the sport of spearfishing.  For example, the shifting of the tides, the migrational patterns of fish, and the symbiotic relationships between many of the ocean's creatures, just to name a few.  But there are also many societal phenomena that are less well known.  Like how people always want a closer look at long blades, or how security always gets called when you dive in the country club's koi pond.  But perhaps the least known and poorest understood of these phenomena is the way people gravitate towards a full kui (stringer).  It's easier to drag a side of beef through the lion cage at the zoo than to get a full kui from the beach to your car.  Perhaps rather than using a kui we should use grocery produce bags.  No one would ever stop to take a look at your newly acquired head of cabbage.  If we came out of the water with a bag of Hungry Jacks no one would ask for some, but people are just all too glad to relieve you of any excess fresh fish.  Take this recent story as an example:

It started one evening with me checking the weather forecasts: winds, waves, and second opinions on winds and waves.  It's what I do 90% of the time I'm not diving.  However, unlike the usual forecast of brisk tradewinds and high surf on the north shore, this time the prognosis was for light and variable winds and calm surf.  I had a number of things to do the next day, like clean the pizza boxes off my floor and attend to work which I had been neglecting even more than normal lately.  But those things would have to wait.  Working on a day like the one predicted could only be done by a spearfisherman in his right mind, and there's very few of those.  Besides, I needed to catch some fish to barbeque when my family got together on the weekend.  With that, my trip was justified.

The next day turned out to be just what they forecasted (I didn't expect that); the Pacific was like a giant aquarium.  A "touch tank" to be more precise.  Assisted by the great conditions, I filled my kui with 4 uhus (parrotfish), 2 mus (bigeye emperor), a nice kali (goatfish), 1 papio (jack), several toaus (snappers), and a few nice, red menpachi (soldierfish).  As I lifted all the fish out of the water the metal bar of the kui dug deep into my fingers, gracing me with the pains of a successful spearfishing session.

Unfortunately for my dive buddy, he had some technical difficulties, sinus difficulties, and lack of skill difficulties.  Like a kid on an Easter egg hunt he searched for a nice blue uhu, but when he came up empty I didn't think twice about giving him mine.  After unloading that fish I strained to drag the rest up to the shower.

There I saw my old friend Kimo, who had just finished paddling and was rinsing off.  He noticed my nice catch and remarked that it's been awhile since he had stuffed uhu.  Happy to help a friend, I parted way with one of the three, heaved the rest over my shoulder, and continued towards my car.  Visions of Chinese style steamed fish, baked fish, pan fried fish, beer battered fish, raw fish, grilled fish, and many more recipes danced through my head and tantalized my starved stomach.

I was stopped by a few people who walked from across the street wishing to take a look at the fish I had gathered just offshore.  Glad to show respect for the locals, I handed off a couple toau.  A lady nearby mentioned that she, too, lived across the street.  Accustomed to taking hints from women, I doled out the rest of my toau.  I picked up my kui, still fairly full, and moved on to the car.

Before I left I figured I should give thanks to the lifeguard for always watching over us.  I gave him a couple menpachi.  He thanked me for helping fee his family.  "I've got a biiiig family," he remarked pointedly, prompting me to pull a couple more off the kui.  "And my wife looooves sashimi."  Waving goodbye to my papio, I gathered what was left into a cooler.  I still had a nice variety of fish, so I headed to my dive buddy's house to drop him off and get more ice.

 While unloading my car, I found out his dad was setting up for a party.  The driveway, street, and some of the yard started to fill with cars of party guests, so I moved down the street a ways.  While I was gone, party guests, naturally attracted to coolers, discovered my fish.  Of course I wasn't going to refuse to donate my uhus to a good cause like a party.  One of the guests also requested a delicious mu be added to the menu.  I shrugged and watched the fruits of my 3 minute underwater tactical ambush disappear.  The danger of losing fish to sharks was beginning to look mundane and highly over rated.  Before I could leave I learned that the party was held to celebrate a birthday.  WIth a pick of any fish, it was obvious what the birthday girl would choose.  Having lost my kali, I grabbed the kui in my fingers and flung the remaining fish in the cooler, my spirit bearing the heavy burden of the light catch.

What was left was barely enough for dinner Friday.  Forget about dinner the rest of the week, or even that night.  I didn't have time to cook anyway.  Instead I just grabbed a pizza.  I heard winds were forecasted to be light, so I had to get home to dry my gear and call into work in preparation for the next day of diving.

Biggest Little Mu

For our part, Kurt and I had executed our game plan well up to this point; we just didn't have anything to show for it.  But now we were right on top of a whole pile of what we came for.  In the sand pit below us, two dozen mu waited to put us through a mental and physical test worthy of a Japanese game show.
The mu is one of the most alluring reef fish.  It may not have the brilliant colors of a blue fantail, but when you're close enough to see the scarlet lips and blue pattern around the eye of a hefty mu, there may not be a more beautiful sight.  Perhaps they lack the swagger of an ulua, and they don't flutter daintily like a hinalea, but their ghost-like hovering and red-light-green-light pattern of movement is nonetheless enchanting.  If you're not sold on any of that, there's always the "broke da mouth" flavor of broiled mu, which I've even heard compared to lobster.
For all those reasons, mu are one of my favorite fish to spear.  This was not the first Saturday morning I found myself jammed under a slab of reef 80 feet beneath the surface.  Like a lame pick up line, I've used this same maneuver to draw in some pretty nice mu.  I once even shot one to immediately witness its stomach get gnawed off by a shark, leaving just the good meat (I wish that happened every time).  But as I lifted my gaze to peer out from my hiding spot, I saw a mu unlike any I had shot before.
The day began hours earlier and miles away, as we freestyled over the reef in hopes of finding an ulua and winning the 6th Gene Higa Memorial Tournament.  As Kurt prepared to check our second house a diver popped to the surface, held up a steel pretzel, freshly made by a 30 pound ulua, and laughed while commenting his day was over.  Well, there goes my Fantasy Spearfishing pick, but if he's not going to win, maybe we still get chance!  However, more than two miles and three hours later, all we had found was dirty water and current.
Forty-five minutes before the time we designated for our return swim we dragged our float and empty kui over the mu pile.  If we couldn't win total weight, we could at least win the "Biggest Mu" category.  Kurt made a dive and shot a four pounder at the edge of his range and came away with only scales.  I dove next and chose a hiding spot in a cave, but although the mu were assuredly directly above me, I couldn't draw them down in front of the cave opening for a shot.  Kurt headed back down while I managed the float at the surface.  A couple minutes later I heard him call and hoist the tail of a large kahala from the water.  Hanapa'a!
We still needed a second fish- preferably a fat mu.  I swam up current and found a nenue house, a perfect blind for ambushing that second fish, that prize winner, that beastly mu.  As I mentioned earlier, I tucked under a chunk of reef and looked up to find several mu right before my eyes at point blank range.  The only problem was, these were not the big, buff mus I was hoping for.  But I didn't have all day, so I picked the biggest of the runts and pulled the trigger.  The poor little guy fought on the line, so I lunged from my hole and grabbed him.  As I clutched him in my hands I realized I had never shot a mu quite like this; this was by far the smallest one I had ever even considered spearing.  At 11:55, knowing we still needed another fish in the next 5 minutes, I cracked a misfortunate nenue and began the swim in.
Two years earlier I shot a mu around 3 pounds and was embarrassed to be photographed with it.  As I swam in I decided this year there was no way I was taking a picture with my pocket-sized, single-serving mu.  I planned to check at weigh-in to make sure someone else turned in a bigger one, then I'd put mine back in my cooler before anyone could see it.  But at the table Brad took one look and said, "Eh, guaranteed.  That's the winner."   It turned out not a single other mu was turned in!
I felt pretty conflicted about winning with such a lowly and inglorious fish.  Could I even accept an award for this?  Would they actually even be willing to give me one?  The situation called to my mind the fly ball hit by Carlos Martinez, which should have fallen harmlessly into the field of play, but instead bounced off the dense skull of center fielder Jose Canseco and careened over the fence for a home run.  Martinez really didn't deserve that homer, but he would have been crazy to try to deny himself the right to trot around the bases.  Fortunately, as I mentioned earlier, Kurt had caught a 21 pound kahala, allowing us to place second overall and liberating me from having to experience the same dubious honor as Carlos Martinez.
Although I was undeserving, I did get a plaque for the biggest little mu (they already had them made and all).  My family put it up in the kitchen.  Looking at it I can contemplate how diving allows me to experience so many contrasting facets that make life so intriguing: hard work and the pay off, embarrassment and hilarity, misfortune and uncanny luck, failure and success, lofty expectations, disillusion, and pleasant surprises.  At least the sight of my award in the kitchen would provoke these thoughts, if the smell of sizzling peanut oil on a freshly steamed mu wasn't so distracting.