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Lisanne Aerts
UNDER THE SEA | The writer diving off the island of Roatán
IN 2010 an Austrian named Herbert Nitsch strapped on fins and a diving mask, took a deep breath and made an underwater round-trip to a depth of 409 feet.
I will never reach 409 feet and I will probably never meet Mr. Nitsch, but I want to understand how a dive like this might be possible. So I walk the dirt road through the village of West End on the island of Roatán, the largest of the Bay Islands off the coast of Honduras and the country’s diving capital. Roatán’s coral is part of a barrier reef that extends north through Belize into Mexico. Second in size only to Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, it has made Roatán a bucket-list scuba destination. But on this trip I want something different than scuba, so at every dive shop I ask for Andrew Graham.
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A fairy basslet swimming near brain coral
He is the only person on the island teaching apnea diving, from the Greek, a-pnoia, literally “without breathing.” It is also known as free-diving and breath-hold diving, and good divers—ordinary ones, not record holders—often swim at depths below 100 feet. Divers with a day or two of training can often reach 50 feet.
Mr. Graham lives on a boat anchored just offshore, but no one knows how to reach him.
So I repeat my walk the next day, and again the day after. At last, someone sends me to a beach bar at the edge of town. A waitress who knows Mr. Graham sends for him. He is youthful and smiling.
“I’m 50 years old,” I say, “and I want to get to 50 feet.”
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Boats in the bay
“It’s not about depth,” he tells me. “It’s about comfort.”
According to Mr. Graham, comfort does not require breathing. I sign up.
Many years ago, I dived 50 feet underwater on one breath. I got there by hyperventilating, breathing deeply and repetitively to flush carbon dioxide from my bloodstream. Humans rely on carbon dioxide levels in the bloodstream to trigger breathing, and hyperventilation tricks the body into thinking it doesn’t need to inhale.
I describe my previous dive to Mr. Graham. “Hyperventilation is not the right way to breathe,” he says. It can fool the body so effectively that, oxygen starved, the body shuts down. Hyperventilated divers occasionally black out without warning.
The next day, we sit near the water while he teaches me to breathe. I practice moving my diaphragm without moving my chest, to better understand and control my lungs. I lie on a dock and practice relaxed belly breathing, the kind of breathing that occurs as one drifts to sleep and the kind I will use between dives.
I practice yogic breathing, the drawn-out breathing used just before a dive. It starts with a forceful exhalation so deep that the diaphragm migrates into the rib cage, the shoulders slump forward and the arms cross in front of the chest. When the lungs feel as empty as possible, a belly breath drops the diaphragm, drawing air into the lower lungs. The ribs expand. The upper chest inflates. The shoulders move back and the arms arc upward. Altogether it takes 14 seconds.
I repeat the sequence three times. Then, on Mr. Graham’s cue, I stop with my lungs fully expanded. He pushes a button on his watch.
“Count while you hold your breath,” he says. “Focus on slowly counting. While you count, feel your body relax. You don’t need more air. You are fine. You have plenty of oxygen.”
He is not holding his breath. He has plenty of oxygen. I, on the other hand, do not.
“You will begin to sweat,” he says. “That is natural.”
My diaphragm spasms. It feels as if I am trapped by a hiccup.
The Lowdown: Roatán, Honduras
Getting There: Direct flights depart to Roatán from Houston and several other U.S. hubs. It is also possible to fly into Honduras and take a local air service or ferry to Roatán.
Staying There: Options range from as little as $10 per night for a backpackers dorm to as much as anyone would care to spend. Anthony’s Key Resort, just outside of West End, has been accommodating divers for more than 40 years (from $150 per night, including meals and two snorkeling trips, anthonyskey.com).
Diving There: Apnea diving can be dangerous—deadly if done incorrectly. The Association Internationale pour le Développement de I’Apnée (aidainternational.org) and Vertical Blue (verticalblue.net/school.php) are two well-established training organizations.
Andrew Graham, who is teaching in Roatán, can be reached at
andrew@fair-tradewinds.com.
Other Activities: Roatán is a famous scuba destination, with boats, guides, rental gear and instruction readily available for all levels. Roatán is also popular for fishing. Several operators run sailing tours, and it is possible to charter a three-person submarine to a depth of 2,000 feet. On shore, there is zip lining, horseback riding and bird watching. And there is, of course, cold beer.
“It’s your brain’s way of saying that carbon dioxide levels are on the rise,” he tells me, “but what matters is that plenty of oxygen remains. Ignore it.”
I can’t ignore it. I exhale.
“Ninety seconds,” he says. “You’re ready to get in the water.”
I don a pair of apnea diving fins. Unlike scuba fins, which are short and stiff, these extend two feet from my toes and are springy, designed to move the diver through the water with as little effort as possible, conserving oxygen.
Following Mr. Graham’s instructions, I dive to 10 feet and latch one finger to a mooring block, counting. When I reach 40, I drift back to the surface. I practice this exercise three times, testing my yogic breathing and my underwater breath holding. I begin to relax.
We swim over conch hiding between thick green blades of turtle grass. A school of reef squid hover like humming birds just below the surface of the water. We paddle through a channel with a white sand bottom and walls of coral, spotting lobster antennae poking out from crevices.
Along the way, I practice dives as Mr. Graham coaches me, sometimes on the surface, sometimes with hand signals underwater.
I exhale, then fill the bottom of my lungs, and then fill my chest. I point my head and torso toward the channel floor 25 feet below and throw my legs up into the air, letting their weight propel me downward. I hold my yogic breath, lying on the channel floor, one finger hooked around a rock. I count. At 30, I discover a dimly lit spot in my brain that is perfectly calm. I have plenty of oxygen. A four-inch wrasse swims in front of my mask.
As I ascend, my lungs gradually expand. There is no need to rush. Mr. Graham shows me a ballet step with fins, the legs moving outward in opposite directions, the feet flat, slowing the ascending diver, turning the body from side to side to see the reef.
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Alamy
Soft coral in the reef
On the surface, I breathe as if I am drifting to sleep. And it starts to become routine: yogic breaths, dive, slowly ascend, belly breathe, repeat.
Mr. Graham swims through a coral cave at 35 feet. I follow.
I pause in the midst of several hundred doctorfish in tight formation, the edges of their fins painted iridescent blue. In no hurry to surface, I feel like part of the school.
We swim a quarter of a mile offshore. The water has taken on a deeper blue. From the surface, the coral remains visible but no longer distinct.
“It’s 50 feet deep here,” he tells me.
I no longer feel a strong desire to reach 50 feet, but I also see no reason not to dive. I take three yogic breaths, point my head and torso downward and slide into the depths. I kick gently from the hips, letting my fins do the work. On the bottom I find that calm place in my head, and I count.
When I reach 60 feet, Mr. Graham appears at my side. He flashes me the OK sign, forefinger and thumb forming a circle. I flash him my own OK, with a flourish of my wrist. I check my depth gauge: 59 feet. And I move toward the surface, slowing my ascent with a ballet kick. I am 50 years old, I think, and I have been to 50 feet without breathing.
Corrections & Amplifications
An earlier version of this article’s headline incorrectly included the phrase: Exploring the reef-filled waters off Honduras without an oxygen tank.
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