Story and photos by Lance Bark

Monday morning rolls around and I’m at the boat early to load up all my scuba gear: two tanks, a dive bag, a tackle box with spare parts, a camera box and a dry bag. What a workout! I moved all of this from my storage unit to the car, and it has to go back at the end of the day. Freedivers don’t need cumbersome gear. They need just a wetsuit, fins and a mask. I’m jealous.

Today I’m joining Martin Stepanek, the world record holder in the constant-ballast class of freediving, and Paul Kotik. Together they run Freediving Instructors International, a school based in Fort Lauderdale. My plan is to observe them conducting Level 2 training, which reaches a depth of 132 feet. Level 1 reaches 66 feet and Level 3 is open limits.

As I set up my gear in the boat I ask a male student from Hollywood what classes are like. He says, “We’re learning specialized techniques for breath holding, stretching and how to move effortlessly in the water.”

Divemaster Ed of South Florida Diving Headquarters puts together the two inner tubes and 100-foot descent lines that will be the surface support as Captain Dick starts the motor and leads us out of Hillsboro Inlet. The waves are higher than six feet, dicey conditions to say the least. Undaunted, the fearless crew plows on. I, on the other hand, will not reveal my thoughts about canceling my racquetball game at the warm, dry and not-rolling-all-over-the-place gym.

• • •

Man has held his breath to explore the ocean’s hidden treasures and catch food for thousands of years. My own history with breath-hold diving begins when my family moved in 1970 to Fort Lauderdale from Long Island, New York and my parents gave me a face mask for exploring the shallows off the beach. Maybe it was a ploy to get me out of their hair so they could enjoy the sun and sand, but I would forever be changed by my first taste of silence underwater.

The roller-coaster boat ride continues until we are 3.5 miles offshore, in about 450 feet of water. The ocean has a rich blue color out here and we are away from a lot of boat traffic. Boat traffic? There’s not a soul around except for the intrepid crew, these crazy freedivers and me. And did I mention we are in 450 feet of water? I can’t remember the last time I went diving and couldn’t see the bottom. This is a good time not to drop the camera.

The surface support rig goes over the side and so do all the freedivers. I leave them alone for a while so Martin and Paul can do their thing and the students get acclimated. The inner tubes each have a descent line going down to 100 feet, which is well short of Martin’s record of more than 350 feet.

That’s 350 feet down, and up, on one breath of air!

Captain Dick maneuvers the boat into position to drop me off into the blue abyss. “Shark bait,” Ed mutters as I jump off the stern.

Thanks, Ed. I will now hear the theme to Jaws for the rest of my dive.

I give the OK sign to the captain and begin my descent.

As I try to get my bearings I realize there is no bottom, reef or wreck. Just endless blue in all directions. So much for getting my bearings. The descent lines are barely visible in this canvas full of mesmerizing shades of blue. It just goes on and on.

I position myself at about 75 feet and wait, surrounded by silence and seemingly hanging in midair.

Suddenly I realize I don’t know what I’m waiting for. I didn’t go over a plan with anyone; I just wanted to stay out of the freedivers’ way and shoot some pictures, to be seen and not heard.

I begin to focus on the surface and see the divers practicing short runs. I’m way too deep to get those shots and choose to stay put and see what happens next.

Then, one by one, they start to come down. Slowly and effortlessly they glide past me in complete silence. I am so entranced by the fluidity of their movement that I forget to take pictures. They are human elevators going up and down with such ease and purpose. Surely I am witnessing the most beautiful aquatic ballets being performed for an audience of one.

Snapping out of my daydream, I check my depth and buoyancy then start timing my shots. It’s not like I can say “Hold it, Martin. Can you slow down next time? I’m dealing with shutter lag here.”

I try to capture the freedivers’ beauty and finesse. I see them coming out of the light from the surface and slowly flying down into the dark blue, finning with great ease and no arm movement whatsoever.

I am in complete awe. It’s so quiet and yet there’s all this activity. I keep on shooting while fighting the urge to stop so I can just witness this surreal duet by man and ocean.