Let me be frank. Cold water does not get me excited about diving. It’s not that I am not hankering to dive Iceland, Antarctica, Norway, etc., in theory. The idea of said destinations sounds like an absolutely fantastic idea, something I most definitely should be doing in six months or further down the line. No, it’s more that the notion of being cold is a bit of a frontier, something you want to do, you will do, but it’s in the future – as in you can’t feel it at present. I did not grow up in Canada or the UK or Scandinavia where you walked five miles in the snow to get to school and where seeing past your nose indicates good visibility. No, I am all about the easy, bath-water-warm, option-to-pee-in-your-wetsuit-if-you-wish sort of diving. Well, I thought I was.
In November, I was on assignment covering Vertical Blue in the Bahamas. Vertical Blue is World Record Holder and World Champion William Trubridge’s prestigious freediving competition where freedivers from all over the world come together to dive to insane depths on one breath. And it was at this event that, after becoming besties with several of these amphibious humans, that I somehow got caught up in the frenzy of planning future meet-ups, intended next destinations, and, well, diving under ice in Finland. And somehow, the bright idea of Finland in March prevailed. I don’t know what was wrong with, say, the Red Sea or somewhere with warmth. And so somewhere in between a vacation of stuffing my pie hole with falafels in Jordan, and the manta frenzy I was stalking in Thailand, I Ianded with a plop in sunny Finland.
The event is called Asikkala on the Rocks and is organized by Antero Joki, Finland’s best freediver and national record holder. About a dozen freedivers and a handful of underwater photographers from nations extending from Japan, Russia, Austria, France, Denmark, the UK, and the US gathered to partake. Those from Finland rocked up to the ice as if it were their backyard pool. I guess, in reality, it kind of is (poor Finns). The rest of us stood shaking our heads and bodies on the shore, or hid out in the sauna, fully clothed, and waiting to see what people were going to do. If buyer’s remorse came in a traveler’s remorse formula, we had it in ice buckets full.
I liken it to bungy jumping – throwing yourself off a cliff or into freezing ice through a hole carved in ice. It’s just not natural! Who decided to do that and thought it was fun? Clearly, it’s a thing in Finland, for there’s a definite science to their routine, including a major ice-cutting saw and ideal sauna temperatures that are regulated by people screaming at you every time you open the door.
But I must say that one of the most interesting parts of ice diving is the cutting of the ice. We arrived the day before, stepping out onto the melting lake with sheepish hesitation as if we were going to go crashing through the ice, rushed under, and be lost forever. That, of course, didn’t happen, but what did happen were these heart-stopping, echoing reverberations as we made contact with the frozen surface. Cracks formed, sending shock waves throughout Finland. They said it was the last day (the next day) that it would be safe to step on the ice and dive under it.
The diving itself was unreal. The holes were cut about 20-30 feet apart with lines running from one to the other for the free divers. After descending, I laid in waiting as different athletes braved the cold water. My face started going numb, and I am pretty sure my vision was diminishing because of the tightness of the drysuit. From below, the ice above has a yellowish glow, and I could clearly make out the silhouettes of people walking on top, for the clarity through the ice was impeccable because of thin ice, no snow and sunlight. As I was getting out, excited to rid myself of the suit, a few freedivers – Stig Severinsen, Tomoka Fukuda, and Chloe Villaume – told me to go back down because they were going in their bikinis and Speedo. Ugh. Back in the water. But I had to. So, I descended and waited, resting my head on the ice. I literally had a lake on top of my head. And finally, the masochists descended one by one, staying submerged for what seemed to me to be an ephemeral moment, but to them I am sure it felt like much longer. I managed perhaps a snap or two per person before they scrambled to the sauna.
Though the drysuit was cumbersome and my face didn’t feel like my own anymore, on the other side of freezing, there is clarity. And I guess, perhaps, it’s like childbirth. I think there’s a diving hormone that makes you forget how painful getting in and out of a drysuit is, how strenuous digging holes is, and how your frozen face takes a little while to thaw. Clearly, I’ve got that hormone in plenty, for I am practically packed and ready for more ice-capades. Seriously. I haven’t unpacked yet, I am carrying snow boots around Indonesia. But for what it’s worth, it is an experience to be had, and the incredible sensation of an entire lake on top of your head – well that’s worth at least putting the drysuit on for.
See more of Lia’s work at liabarrettphotography.com.
