I got into spearfishing years ago, and I knew I wanted to see under water and eat fish, but wasn't really prepared for how hard it is and how common it is not to eat fish.
Like the author, despite numerous failures, bad choices, and sometimes suffering very cold British Columbia ocean temperatures, I kept showing up. My dives went from 7 or 8 metres to 10, to 15, to 20, and sometimes deeper. My breath hold went from a panicked 30 seconds to 2 minutes.
Initially when I saw a legal fish I'd take it every chance I got, because I could be certain I wouldn't find another. These days when I get in the water, due to that sort of immersive calibration, I find a lot more fish. Ironically, I don't shoot any of them despite being so much more capable of it now.
The ocean is such a complex, powerful, and simultaneously soothing yet deeply engaging environment. It gets incredibly cold, and it works with such incredible force that you constantly have to operate on its terms rather than your own. The qualia of the medium and your surroundings is so rich, it almost feels like a part of you. The same as a tool in your hand becomes an extension of you, the ocean becomes one as well, yet completely out of your control. It's really beautiful.
Kayaking is similar in how you're largely at the whim of this incredible body of water. Your success depends so much on how you read it, understand it, and respond to it accordingly.
I think humans are meant to be deeply engaged in environments like this. The easier we make it, the less we need to care about our environments (such as with this 21°, still, quiet room I'm in), the less engaged and stimulated we are, then the less we're challenged to adapt and endure in ways we probably should.
Haha, it's incredibly salty, yeah. I kind of like it. After 4 or 5 hours in it, it's often all through your nose and throat, too. If I've been away from it for a while it can seem kind of harsh, but it grows on me again pretty quickly.
I got into spearfishing years ago, and I knew I wanted to see under water and eat fish, but wasn't really prepared for how hard it is and how common it is not to eat fish.
Like the author, despite numerous failures, bad choices, and sometimes suffering very cold British Columbia ocean temperatures, I kept showing up. My dives went from 7 or 8 metres to 10, to 15, to 20, and sometimes deeper. My breath hold went from a panicked 30 seconds to 2 minutes.
Initially when I saw a legal fish I'd take it every chance I got, because I could be certain I wouldn't find another. These days when I get in the water, due to that sort of immersive calibration, I find a lot more fish. Ironically, I don't shoot any of them despite being so much more capable of it now.
The ocean is such a complex, powerful, and simultaneously soothing yet deeply engaging environment. It gets incredibly cold, and it works with such incredible force that you constantly have to operate on its terms rather than your own. The qualia of the medium and your surroundings is so rich, it almost feels like a part of you. The same as a tool in your hand becomes an extension of you, the ocean becomes one as well, yet completely out of your control. It's really beautiful.
Kayaking is similar in how you're largely at the whim of this incredible body of water. Your success depends so much on how you read it, understand it, and respond to it accordingly.
I think humans are meant to be deeply engaged in environments like this. The easier we make it, the less we need to care about our environments (such as with this 21°, still, quiet room I'm in), the less engaged and stimulated we are, then the less we're challenged to adapt and endure in ways we probably should.