Loïc Leferme (28 August 1970 – 11 April 2007)

Loic
Originally uploaded by Laura Storm.

As with many freedivers, the first big name I heard of in the sport was Jacques Mayol, courtesy of Luc Besson’s ‘The Big Blue’. The second was another Frenchman - Loïc Leferme.

I was learning the basics of freediving in Plymouth in the summer of 2002, being taught by Howard Jones, when Loïc’s name cropped up more than once. Like Howard, it seemed that he also instructed would-be freedivers, in the slightly sunnier environs of Nice. Doing a sales pitch for another instructor is never easy, although we all do it from time to time. Howard managed to promote Loïc’s wife Valery’s home-made baguettes more than anything else, but at least I knew another name and another location.

I had no idea that Loïc was such a grande fromage in the sport, until I went to the London Dive Show early the next year. Howard had arranged a presentation by both Loïc and Guillaume Nery. The two of them were world record holders - Guillaume in Constant Weight, and Loïc in No-Limits. As presentations go, it could have been better if the audience had a better understanding of French, or the speakers of English. The video footage was superb, though, and I’ll never listen to ‘The Scientist’ by Coldplay without a vision of Loïc on his sled.

Only a few months later I was nervously taking the plunge in Limmasol, Cyprus, at my first freediving competition. Yet another Howard Jones production, and with a lot of goodwill and help thrown in from friends and freedivers from around the world. By then I not only knew a few more big names, I was surrounded by them. Loïc seemed to stand out more than the others though - not just because of his flowing mane, but someone who seemed to have the rare quality of presence, but without the big ego in-tow. As the competition came into being, it was obvious that Loïc was very much integral to the whole machine. He seemed to somehow manage safety freediving for hours on end, without a break. Not the easy stuff either - several times he had to demonstrate his rescue skills, which of course were exemplary. When it was time for my dive, I felt like a mouse at a cat party. Without saying a word, Loïc looked at me and instilled a sense of calm. It was a paradox - here was the World’s deepest freediver, giving up his time and energy so that a mere novice could try his hand at the sport in which he was King.

Over the years, Loïc was a safety diver for me at least three or four times, mainly at the CIPA competitions in Nice. After one of my less-impressive dynamic performances, Loïc congratulated me as if I had broken a world record. I never had the opportunity to return the complement and safety dive for him. I don’t even recall buying him a drink. Some of us managed to get a laugh out of him though, more than once, and always for the same thing. He found it very amusing when British freedivers all huddled together in our own group when ‘socialising’. And took great delight in breaking us up.

Sometimes Loïc looked so serious or thoughtful, yet so quick to change his expression into a broad grin. And as quickly as his expression could change, so would his focus, always having time for those around him.

Loïc Leferme is not with us anymore. Not his physical presence anyway. But for those of us that dangle a few metres beneath the waves on a sunny day, and let the breathless calm envelop us…well, if you do it, you know the feeling. The next time it comes, for me at least, some of that feeling will be Loïc.