Follow Korea's oldest free divers on their underwater treasure hunt.
The volcanic island of Jeju is a wild paradise sitting just off the coast of the Korean peninsula. It is said to be plentiful in three things: rock, wind and women.
Each have been instrumental in shaping its success.
The rock and wind represent the island itself, formed after a volcanic eruption thousands of years ago and regularly at the mercy of a strong gale.
The women are haenyeo, which literally translates to women of the sea.
Since the 17th century, they have made a living from free diving along Jeju’s winding coastline.
Regarded as South Korea's first working mothers, it's speculated these women began diving at a time when the men of the island were away gathering food or at war.
Yoon Sook-nyeo has been a member of haenyeo for more than 40 years.
Now one of the group's leaders, she believes they have played an instrumental part in the island's history and development.
"For a long time, haenyeo have formed a community in the village," Yoon says.
"And when they enter the sea, they go in and out together, laugh and fight together, and live together like that."
Haenyeo's knowledge is passed down to younger generations in families, by local community groups, even at school.
With thousands living on the island, the women are divided into smaller groups and designated a particular spot of coastline to focus on. Leadership can vary from group to group depending on its size.
Sometimes the highest ranking members go for dives while the lower rank keeps watch from above.
But haenyeo we travel with are part of a flatter power structure and dive closer to the shore.
Status comes with experience.
The older women rotate leadership among themselves. The leader might occupy the best seat on the Korean-style heated floor as they get ready, but the decision making seems democratic.
Each group of haenyeo have a bulteok — a space where they meet in the morning.
Where they dive that day is decided after they meet.
Like many in the group, Lee Yu-jung views the 21 women she dives with as her family.
"As the youngest, it's my job to make the coffee each morning," the 32-year-old says.
"I feel like I have 20 maternal grandmothers. If my wetsuit is ripped, they’ll help me fix it."
Members start arriving from around 6am, taking dried clothing off the lines and applying sunscreen.
Everyone quickly falls into a comfortable rhythm. New arrivals are greeted with warm smiles as the women swap stories and speculate on the day ahead.
Some will go and pray at the haesindang, a shrine to the sea god, asking for a safe dive and help in catching an abundance of fish.
"We are friends, but sometimes we fight," laughs Yoon after we witness a lively discussion carried out in the distinct accent of the island.
At a sprightly 65 years old, she's a relative youngster among the women of the sea.
The oldest current member of this group is 91.
At its peak, it's believed about 23,000 haenyeo were working the waters around the island.
Now the third pillar of Jeju's proverb is under threat.
The number of haenyeo has dwindled over the years, and currently stands at about 3,500.
Many members are at an age where workers would be considering retirement. Less than 100 are aged under 50.
Most young women on Jeju these days are choosing to stay above the water to earn a living.
They see it as both a less dangerous and more lucrative option.
But for the women of the sea, free diving isn't just a profession, it's a way of life.
The hunt for treasure
Haenyeo take to the water at 8am, having grown accustomed to the bracing cold of the ocean.
Donning their patched up, matching wetsuits, pink fringed masks, and yellow flippers, the women make the short walk to their diving spot for the day.
All 21 members go diving at once, waiting for Yoon to signal it's time to move.
Then, one by one, they dive. The women can swim as deep as 30 metres and are known to hold their breath for up to three minutes at a time as they forage for catch or hunt down the odd wily octopus.
While they gather together and go out to dive as a group, each woman works on their own in the ocean.
Depending on the time of the year, Haenyeo can harvest for up to seven hours a day, 90 days of the year. Though in the cooler months that can halve.
The only sign of their work to the casual on-shore observers are their distinctive orange floats bobbing on the surface of the water.
Attached are nets, increasingly swollen with their catch.
"Working at sea is like a treasure hunt," Lee Yu-jung says.
"The more I find, the more I can buy what I want, and I give my parents money by selling what I caught and sharing the delicious food."
The type of catch changes throughout the year, depending on what's available.
Urchins are the target from March through May, while haenyeo mostly gather seaweed during the summer months.
By October, when we visit with them, they have turned their attention to conches – sea snails.
The women are conscious of sustainable collection while still etching out a living.
But they face a bigger concern while underwater: overexertion.
It is all too easy to miscalculate your limits during a free dive, underestimating the time it will take to reach the surface or overestimating the oxygen you have left.
That's why training to be a member can take many years.
According to Jeju city authorities, on average between five and 10 women lose their lives diving, each year.
Even very experienced members take medicine to avoid motion sickness in the rocky conditions.
"It's dangerous, but this is the skill we've learned. We dive when it's cold and when it's hot," one member says.
Many have decades of experience and hard-earned knowledge of weather patterns and tides. They all have an opinion on where is best to hunt on any particular day.
But haenyeo have noticed the water is changing. The temperature is slightly warmer and certain fish are easier to spot.
While in one sense that makes the early morning dives easier to bear, it's a source of anxiety for the group, who are concerned about how it will impact their fishing grounds.
At the mercy of the climate
Jeju University professor Park Sang-ryul says the island and haenyeo, which are dependent on its health, are facing a crisis.
The area is experiencing some of the fastest climate change in the world, he says, with the water temperature here rising three times faster than the global climate change trend.
According to Professor Park's research, the water temperature around the island has risen more than one degree in the past 30 years.
In total, it has risen by about two degrees over the past 80 years.
The change could be potentially catastrophic for the area, he says, as slight temperature changes in the ocean can have a bigger impact than on land.
"A change of 1 degree in the ocean is considered to be a change of 10 degrees on land," he said.
The changes have been so drastic that the seas have moved from being a temperate zone to now being subtropical.
And already it's having an impact on sea life.
"There is a decrease in kelp forests and an increase in corals in the ocean," he said.
The changes are not only limited to algae and plant life though, with haenyeo noticing that creatures further up the food chain are suffering as well.
"The sea in Korea is a cold sea. It used to be hard to see colourful fish, but these days they're everywhere," one of the free divers says.
Leader Yoon says the change is most obvious in the underwater plants where "five or six kinds of seaweeds have disappeared".
"Too many species have disappeared even in the 40 years I have been around," she says.
Jeju is one of the major tourism drawcards in South Korea, famous for its volcanic mountain peak in the centre of the island and the relatively sedate beautiful blue waters that surround it.
The island offers a reprieve to Koreans wanting to escape the hustle and bustle of their clogged cities.
Tourism has brought more jobs to the island, with people needed to provide services to new visitors. But Jeju's popularity has come with a large environmental cost, particularly in the forms of increased pollution.
Lee regularly goes out with a group of like-minded divers to clean up some of the rubbish blighting the waters.
For these expeditions she makes sure to use full scuba gear and an oxygen tank.
The refuse they collect ranges from discarded fishing gear, bottles, car parts and a huge amount of plastic.
"We try to come out as much as possible," the young diver says.
But there's always so much rubbish. And along with their anxiety over the changes happening in the ocean, haenyeo fear for their future.
The last haenyeo?
As more young women have given up on the practice, many worry the women of the sea could die out completely.
With their numbers dwindling, the group we travel with look out for new recruits like Lee Yu-jung.
At 32, she is young by haenyeo standards. Three decades separate her from the second-youngest haenyeo in her group.
Her father was a fisherman and this connection helped her to gain acceptance with the group.
She joined as an intern, made possible only with the unanimous support of all the women she free dives with.
Lee spent two years in the role training and passing milestones related to her skills before she could graduate into the main ranks.
After four years with the group, she says free diving is not about the capacity to earn money.
"I was a quick-tempered person who got bored quickly when I started," Lee said.
"In the early days I used to spend time under water thinking about all the happy and sad things that were happening in my life.
"I was so lost in my thoughts I couldn't focus on my work."
Lee talks about her work in transformative language. The hours she has since spent submerged in the water, controlling her breath, have altered her core.
"The older haenyeo told me I wasn't performing, that I would only ever be a low-level haenyeo. That motivated me," she said.
"I really learnt to be patient by working in the sea with them. I also learnt how to work hard."
At 75, Yang Gye-ran is a more seasoned haenyeo member, having spent more than five decades free diving.
She was born into haenyeo and has been a member since she was 19. Both her mother and sisters were also haenyeo but she says it's not just biology that binds the women together.
"We're like a family just because we work together here," she says.
Not only is she haenyeo, but she's also a head of the local fishing village, which includes the fishermen.
On the mainland of South Korea, that would cause something of a stir.
But given the revered role of haenyeo on Jeju, it's not all that unusual.
Even at an age when most would be thinking about retiring, Yang says she can't spend too much time away from the ocean.
"No matter how the sea changes, I like it. It feels so good to go to the sea," she says.
"Haenyeo get sick on land. My legs hurt, my body hurts, but when I go into the sea, the pain goes away."
Credits:
Story: Carrington Clarke
Photography: Mitch Woolnough
Producer: Sookyoung Lee
Digital production and editing: Lucia Stein
