Freediving In Wastwater
Slowly I made my way down the gravel beach into the clear, still water. I feel the ice cold of the first trickle between my suit and the boots, making me shiver and curl my toes. The chill nips at my fingers through my ancient gloves, held together with aquasure and sheer stubborness. The painfully cold water reminding me that it is actually only March, and we are indeed utterly unhinged for even contemplating diving in a semidry in a lake.
Tentativley we make our way deeper, until we can put on our specialised long fins and make our way out from the shore. We lower the lead block from the small round smb and reel to the bed of the lake below, the pale green tendrils of weed and small jagged stones marking out the gradual slope into the dark, still depths.
The thin white line our marker and guide, the lead block our target.
