Ryan Park slips beneath the surface of Fort Sewall’s waters at dawn, holding his breath for up to four minutes as he descends 30 feet into an underwater world most people never see. Armed with a 6-foot Hawaiian sling spear, the 32-year-old dentist has made these cold New England waters his second home.
“Every time I’m in the water, it’s like, it’s extreme, it’s so divine, it’s so pure,” said Park sitting outside Mookie’s, struggling to find words adequate to his experience. “It’s almost like your soul has been purified.”
Since moving to Marblehead in 2024, Park has immersed himself — literally — in the North Shore’s coastal ecosystem. What began as a solitary, self-taught fascination with free diving (without an oxygen tank) has grown into a daily ritual, a community service and a deeply personal form of meditation.
‘The Deepest Breath’
Park grew up in Niagara Falls, Canada, and relocated to Massachusetts to learn and practice dentistry, specializing in wisdom teeth extraction. But it was a Netflix documentary — “The Deepest Breath” — that transformed his relationship with the ocean and gave his life an unexpected purpose.
After watching the documentary in January 2024, Park became captivated by free diving. Within months, he was training himself through YouTube videos, practicing breath-holding in swimming pools and gradually extending his time underwater.
His passion intensified after meeting Mike Casselli at Fort Sewall, a spearfisher who gave Park his spare Hawaiian sling and introduced him to the hunting aspect of the sport. The device operates like an underwater bow and arrow — a pole spear powered by a rubber band that Park charges up on his hand before releasing when he spots a fish.
“You let it go,” Park explained. “We smoke (kill) them like that.”
By August, Park was diving daily before work, often spending two hours in the water. His gear includes a weight belt for neutral buoyancy, a specialized free diving mask, a knife for emergencies, a stringer to keep caught fish and a dive flag for safety. In winter, he switches from his regular wetsuit to a 7-millimeter version that allows him to stay in the water — sometimes reaching 37 degrees — for an hour.
The waters around Marblehead offer surprisingly rich hunting grounds. Park regularly catches tautog and cunner fishes — his two primary targets — along with flounder and sea urchins he prepares as sashimi. On a recent Sunday, he landed one of his biggest catches ever: a 2-foot-long fish that drew what he called amazed reactions from beachgoers.
At Folly Cove in Gloucester, which Park calls “one of the best, most famous dive sites in New England,” he encounters northern red anemones, soft corals and rock crabs hiding in the rocky topography where big fish congregate. Fort Sewall, his regular morning spot, rates an eight out of 10 for diving conditions when visibility cooperates.
Helping lobstermen
His dives have evolved into community service. When local lobsterman Jack Burns asked for help retrieving traps tangled in harbor moorings, Park discovered a way to bridge what he called tension between divers and commercial fishermen.
“I’m showing the community — especially the lobstermen — that there are good divers out there who want to help,” said Park.
In recent weeks, Park has recovered six lobster traps from depths of up to 30 feet, using a carabiner hook provided by Burns to attach to the gear before signaling for it to be hauled up. The work requires navigating strong currents, untangling lines from moorings and sometimes cutting rope with his dive knife when the tangle proves too complex to unravel.
“I really want to help the lobster industry thrive in Marblehead,” Park said. “Especially for Jack and his family, I really want to help them.”
The physical demands of free diving in New England waters are considerable. Park trained formally at East Coast Divers in Brookline, learning equalization techniques — popping his ears and sinuses to manage pressure changes during descent. His training allowed him to extend holding his breath to 4 minutes and 5 seconds, though actual dives typically involve 1-minute round trips with 20 seconds hovering at the bottom.
Visibility remains the biggest challenge. While November and December offer the clearest conditions — up to 30 feet when summer algae disappears — most of the year requires navigating murky water.
Safety protocols are paramount. Park emphasizes diving with a buddy whenever possible and knowing personal limits. After years as an open-water swimmer and lifeguard, he’s learned to read conditions carefully, aborting dives when currents or weather create dangerous situations.
His enthusiasm extends beyond personal fulfillment. Park envisions introducing youth snorkeling programs and regularly removes trash from dive sites — his “number one pet peeve.”
When pressed to describe what draws him back each morning, Park offered an unexpectedly tender comparison: “It’s like when you come home and your mom gives you a warm hug and embrace.”
