by Tyler Zetterstrom

My earliest memories of childhood recount my fascination and fixation with submerging myself in and under the water. I still vividly see the images in my mind from before the age of 8, of instances where I would swim under the water pretending I was a shark or dolphin. I even tried to kick like a dolphin, sadly to no avail. I often dreamt of diving down into the deep but always found incredible pain in my ears at no deeper than five to six feet. Somewhere around the age of ten or eleven, I suddenly discovered I could release the pain in my ears, allowing me to dive as deep as I wanted.

Other than attempting to reach the bottom of every swimming pool I entered, my first exploration with this newfound ability was diving down a drop-off at a lake during the summer. I discovered fresh water clams and proceeded to harvest these poor creatures, to demonstrate my usefulness to the family cause. I was slightly disheartened to discover that these clams were not to be eaten, due to poisoning concerns. Needless to say, I was amazed to perform such a feat in this wild environment. At the same time there was a lingering fear triggered within myself from witnessing the fact that I could now achieve diving into darkness and become far removed from all semblances of security. This combined with the apparent barren landscape of this underwater experience encouraged my feelings and thoughts to quickly leave behind a part of the romanticism I held towards the underwater world.

Years went by and the experience was nearly forgotten. Around the age of 15, while in Cancun, Mexico with my family, I spent nearly every moment in the water at the rather lifeless beach at our hotel. Even so I was eventually rewarded when I discovered myself about to step on a stingray. Until that moment, stingrays were merely a legend, grouped just a pinch away from mermaids and Atlanteans. Something stirred inside of me from that point, rekindling the passion for my part in the underwater world. One thing was missing nonetheless... I had forgotten that I could dive!

I cherished my memories of snorkeling, and kept an eager expectation towards my next tropical destination that would offer more such experiences. Six years passed without the opportunity to visit such a destination. However, one day, in 1997, I could no longer contain my desire for this activity and I was struck with the wonderfully brilliant idea to bring my mask, snorkel, and fins to one of my, at the time, favorite relaxation sites by the sea, Lighthouse Park in the Greater Vancouver area. At the time, I had heard of SCUBA diving very briefly from a friend and whatever I had seen in movies or on TV. It had never occurred to me that I could actually explore the marine underwater world in the same area that I had lived my whole life. It was a simple naivety grown from the general lack of knowledge by Canadians, that our waters are world-class for viewable marine life. At this time I still had not heard this myself.

So, there I stood on the rocks looking into the chilly, dark, waters, thinking I was on the edge of discovering a whole new approach to my common waters. My girlfriend watched me with concern, as both our minds kept inadvertently repeating, "People don't do this... is there a reason?" I courageously entered and proceeded to stare down into a murky, green, darkness. How would it get better than this, I was not sure. I decided to dive, following the submerged rock shore down. I saw the flourishing sea stars everywhere, but in order to do so my eyes required I be closer than two feet away. I scoured the rocks on successive dives, going no deeper than two meters. I reasoned, if the water is so murky and it continues to get darker the further one goes down then, there was probably nothing down there worth challenging my fears of entering such an environment. As we packed up and went home, that was the end of my brilliant idea.

From 1991-2001, ten years passed where I almost completely forgot about diving. This was most profoundly emphasized recently when I discovered that a movie, "The Big Blue", was solely based upon our ability to freedive. I saw this film in 1999 and further recommended it to friends due to my opinion that it was a nice and beautiful presentation. The relation between the movie and one of my deepest interests did not even occur to my mind. To drive the point home, I rediscovered my ability to dive in January 2001, yet it was not until over a year later, that I realized the relation between what I was regularly doing and what the main focus of the film was to do with.

On the first day of January, 2001, I landed in Thailand with a day-pack on my back holding my clothes and necessities for the following two and a half months. Needless to say, the top did not close due to the pair of black fins protruding out from the crammed pack. Along with this, the pack contained my snorkel and a recently purchased mask. At this point I had not dove since 1991, and had merely brought along these aquatic items with the idea of spending many hours viewing the underwater life, as I hover at the surface. Alas, this was not to be the case.

A few days later and snorkeling off an island, I was quickly drawn downward to a stingray feasting fifteen feet below on creatures buried in the sand. After that, every day was filled with exploring deeper and longer, until somewhere around fifty feet deep, I no longer had the courage to push any further. However, I had my share of experiences within this range of the underwater world. These included run-ins with octopus, squid, stingrays, eels, giant clams, barracuda, trumpet fish, and more.

Back at home the following summer, while enjoying one of many days at a beach on the Howe Sound, it occurred to me, once again, that maybe there was something to see under these waters as well! Remembering my Lighthouse Park experience with murky waters and the inability to see more than two feet, I realized that the water here seemed remarkably clear. Still, I speculated that I may have to dive much deeper than this former experience to really assess the quality of diving in our waters. This was no longer such a scary thought, now that I had gained my confidence with diving deep while in Thailand.

A few days later, found myself taking my first suspenseful dives in these northern ocean waters. I was hooked immediately! Within my first few dives I encountered large dungeness crabs, huge sea stars, large jelly fish, 2-3 foot long rock fish (lingcod), and numerous colorful fish. From that moment on, if I was near salt-water, I was also putting on my mask, fins, snorkel, and a 2mm wetsuit, designed for windsurfing. I don't need to emphasize the fact that I was freezing, but being overwhelmed with the excitement of each encounter with the life below, kept me returning without hesitation. Come fall, I couldn't stop myself! Winter-time fell upon us, and still I persisted! Regularly I would step out of the waters with the beginnings of hypothermia taking hold of my body. I did not know there are special wet suits for this activity and did not know that my suit was ridiculously thin for this environment. As a matter of fact, I did not even know there was such an activity, so it never crossed my mind to look for improvements towards this end.

It was during the spring, while jogging, that a friend of mine asked how long I could hold my breath for. Not knowing, I speculated maybe a minute or so. After a short break, sitting down to rest, we each held our breath. Reaching two minutes on my first attempt, my friend was surprised and this propelled my mind into wondering, if I practiced holding my breath, would my breath-hold improve, thereby allowing me to enjoy staying underwater for longer.

Over the next month, often I would take a break from the monotony of work, and sitting at my computer, time my breath-hold. I did not know of any techniques to improve or to prepare for a breath-hold. I would sit there relaxing, breathing, normally and when I felt like it, I would inhale and wait. Eventually I reached four minutes and forty-five seconds, using this method. Nine months later, after receiving training in freediving and exploring various techniques and variations on such things, I reached a breath-hold of eight minutes and seven seconds, while lying in my bed.

Later in the spring, I found myself regularly diving to a similar depth as I did when in Thailand. The fear entered me again and kept me from proceeding any deeper. A friend mentioned they had heard of a club involved in freediving, so searching on the internet I discovered references to freediving and quickly realized that I had better learn more about the dangers involved in what I was participating. It was not until August that I finally met a fellow freediver and since then I have discovered a full and complete appreciation for this activity, concerning safety, technique, equipment, biology of the body, health and nutrition, marine-life, underwater photography, the freediving community, and further exploration.

I never expected that the day-dreams of my childhood would manifest to have such an active part in my day to day appreciations and activities. I am ever grateful for this fact.

Tyler Zetterstrom