Russian Championship (RFPR version)

The road to Anapa, to the protected village of Bolshoy Utrish, took 1600 km, and the same back. I covered those 3200 in 2.5 days, not counting a 10-hour stop at customs on the way to the Black Sea. The other 1000 km we spent rolling along the Black Sea coast - from Anapa to Novorossiysk, Divnomorsk, Gelendzhik, Dzhankhot. I took part in three Russian competitions: the Russian Championship (RFP), the Russian Cup (RPF), the Russian Championship (RFPR), finishing 12th, 2nd and 1st respectively, and saw clear progress in my results and, most importantly, in what I'm capable of.

One of the characters in the film "Cloud Paradise" said: "A man without a suitcase is like a tree with roots. I've got two of them. Once a year you need a change of scenery".

Spending 6-8 hours in the water at training sessions, I got to know my body, the sea and the local fish better. I'm a step closer to my dream of learning to hunt at great depths, which is exactly what hunting in the Mediterranean is like.

After talking with lots of strong Russian athletes, whose faces never leave the pages of spearfishing magazines, I realized how interesting and eye-opening their lives are. Club trips to various competitions, trophy hunting outings with a tight-knit crew, shared interests have moulded these people into such a well-coordinated organism that when you talk about one of them, you're talking about all of them. Growing within a team, taking the best from those around you, is much easier and faster, and in freediving and spearfishing this matters more than anywhere. You can get to hunting at 10 meters on your own in 2 years, or you can master those depths in a two-week seminar under an instructor. That's why I never regret spending money on training and on taking part in various competitions, because it's such a colossal amount of experience and knowledge that you pick up just by watching other divers.

Now closer to the competitions themselves. In case not everyone knows, in the RF there are two spearfishing federations, the RPF and the RFPR. Both of them hold Russian championships and Russian cups.

My trip dragged on because I decided to take part in both Russian championships held by these federations. In the RPF Russian Championship I took second place, and in the RFPR one - first.

My preparation for the competitions was so intense that I dropped (despite being skinny as it is) another couple of kg. But by the final competitions I was in such peak form that I was scared of myself as an opponent :). I'll describe one of the many training sessions, "on the ridge" (as we call it, while they call these piles of boulders, which sometimes drop off sharply, "banks"), starting 250-300 meters from shore. The top edge of the banks sometimes comes up to 5-6 meters, the bottom lies at around 15-16.

Together with Andrey Terentyev, the Samara representative of the "Solaris" team, whom I've known for quite a few years now, we decided to find a boat for the competition. We hired a boat with a skipper, Alisher, and agreed with him on trips out to sea of 5-6 hours, but in reality we spent at least 7 hours in the water. Luckily Alisher was understanding about our "underwater concept of time" and its tendency to stretch, and it didn't annoy him. The working area we covered by diving was about five kilometres long, and we worked mostly at depths of 10-12 metres. Diving at the far edge of the area, which is full of dark grottoes, the torch mounted on my pneumatic gun lit up such gorgeous spots that I'd happily have moved in there myself :), but no corvina in sight. Below 8.5-9 metres there was a thermocline (if the water at the surface was 23 degrees, down here it was around 14), and the cold water simply burned my face. After moving along the bottom for 20-30 seconds I'd start to freeze. The conclusion was obvious - the fish didn't like the cold water any more than I did. The thermocline had pushed the fish up into warmer water. So we had to look for fish higher up. But in this spot there were no rocks above 10 metres. Andrey suggested moving to a spot he'd explored before, where the "bank" starts at 5-6 metres below the surface. Well then, change of spot. It was not far from the fairway into Gelendzhik Bay and, being a favourite place for divers, it was rarely empty. When we arrived, we found a boat and two churning whirlpools of bubbles rising to the surface from the bottom. Finding out that the divers were two young girls, we thought, "now who would we rather hunt...". We decided to sort it out underwater. Moving off 10-15 metres, we resolutely roll into the water. After lowering the quick-release weight onto the top of the rock, we breathe up lying on the surface. Letting my thoughts fly free, I dive, raising both fins vertically. There's the top of the ridge. I glide past it downwards, already negatively buoyant, without moving. This is the moment worth living for! 3-4 metres below hang not "little corvinas" but "CORVINAS". A school of 25-30 fish. Seeing a small object falling from above (from below they only see the head), they press down lower under the ledge without scattering in different directions. THE SCHOOL ACCEPTS ME. Dropping to 15 metres and pressing them under the ledge, I singled out a beauty from the group, clearly over 2 kg, and as I crept up on it, I caught myself thinking "I don't really feel like shooting, I'd love to film this beauty on camera." But I don't have a camera with me, I have a gun. A good shot in the first third from the head. But misjudging the visibility and a half-deflated pneumatic gun, set up for very close range, meant that the spear got stuck in the fish without going through it. The flopper didn't open. The fish jerked sideways and came off the spear. The rest of the "family" calmly swam a little higher, studying the new "arrow-spitting pebble" in their kingdom. I once read online that without taking the shot fish off the line, people reloaded the gun on the same breath-hold and took another one. The thought was like lightning, it takes longer to describe, and my hands were already loading the pneumatic gun. And fully armed I started rising towards the fish hanging above me. In the end - a shot, and I managed to take one of them. But that wasn't what made me happy, it was the reading on the computer: -14.5 metres and 2 minutes 05 seconds. And that's with creeping up, loading the gun, so you could say in active mode.

To wrap up, I'll say that on the first day of the competition I shot 8 fish, submitting the 5 biggest for scoring and earning about 8000 points. On the second day - 4 scoring fish. The total - about 14000 points over two days. Almost three times as many as the athlete who took second place.

But I want to say the main thing: while competing, I had the feeling that all the fish were coming out right at me. Andrey, diving next to me, and the other competitors were so disappointed by how empty their fish stringers were and so surprised by how full mine was that I started feeling kind of awkward around them.

The conclusion - the credit goes to the people close to me: my mom, my brother Vladik, who quit his job and threw himself into this adventure with me, the members of the "Bakı" Club, who helped so much with everything - the moral support of these people who believed in me made the fish take an interest in me too: "where's that guy from Baku, let's swim over and take a look at him" :).

Thanks to everyone for the help and support! And also to those who read the article to the end! :)

Good luck on our dives!