dmitry arkhipov
Hunting for a photographer
East Greenland. It seems I'm the first diver in this fjord ... and now I can be the last …
Happened in my head when I saw the motor boat of the Inuit hunter and her master in it with a carbine in preparation.
The situation is more than idiotic. I'm in a wet suit, in the water, in the middle of a bay half-filled with icebergs, I shoot a split. To the shore of 200 meters. And here comes the hunter for the seals. Inuits are practically Russian Chukchi, hunters and alcoholics (they do not have any enzyme responsible for the cleavage of alcohol in the stomach, so they drink almost immediately).
Since childhood, they have been hunting, shooting at everything that moves. Moreover, hunting for the seal requires an instant reaction, saw the head of the seal - shoot immediately, after a second dive. At this distance, the head of a diver fucking resembles the head of a seal with all the ensuing consequences …
Yes, he can not imagine that except for the seals, somebody might be in the water. The first thought of swimming to the shore I threw away immediately, far away…
Happened in my head when I saw the motor boat of the Inuit hunter and her master in it with a carbine in preparation.
The situation is more than idiotic. I'm in a wet suit, in the water, in the middle of a bay half-filled with icebergs, I shoot a split. To the shore of 200 meters. And here comes the hunter for the seals. Inuits are practically Russian Chukchi, hunters and alcoholics (they do not have any enzyme responsible for the cleavage of alcohol in the stomach, so they drink almost immediately).
Since childhood, they have been hunting, shooting at everything that moves. Moreover, hunting for the seal requires an instant reaction, saw the head of the seal - shoot immediately, after a second dive. At this distance, the head of a diver fucking resembles the head of a seal with all the ensuing consequences …
Yes, he can not imagine that except for the seals, somebody might be in the water. The first thought of swimming to the shore I threw away immediately, far away…
The second option was to wave and yell like a sperm whale ... stop ... no ... sperm whale .. an animal... bullet in the forehead... he has a motor running, he can not make out the words. No... a bad idea, attract attention, without looking, without looking, and then feed as a seal to dogs, or maybe not feed, but what difference does it make? Time as that was slowed down, and ideas, on the contrary were accelerated, ran a deep flow. I must understand that I'm not nerpa... He's a hunter...
And what is it that he's shining in the sun? Damn... Glasses... He wears glasses... Short-sighted hunter... In horrible ah? Now he just can not prove that I'm not seagull or walrus any... Can dive? Also a stupid idea, a seal will give me 1000 points ahead in freediving. And what does it usually mean for him here? Quickly remove a seal-like seal with a wet suit? Water +3, the death from the passing is perhaps less pleasant than just a bullet in the forehead. WHAT CAN I DO???
And what is it that he's shining in the sun? Damn... Glasses... He wears glasses... Short-sighted hunter... In horrible ah? Now he just can not prove that I'm not seagull or walrus any... Can dive? Also a stupid idea, a seal will give me 1000 points ahead in freediving. And what does it usually mean for him here? Quickly remove a seal-like seal with a wet suit? Water +3, the death from the passing is perhaps less pleasant than just a bullet in the forehead. WHAT CAN I DO???
Meanwhile, the motorboat with the hunter slowly approached me, tacking between the icebergs. Inuit with a carbine in his hands, peered into something staring hard on the starboard side. I was on the left. 150 meters ... 120 ... 100 The thought came when there were about 80 meters to the boat and the hunter, turning round the next ice floe turned his head and saw me. I pulled a huge box with a camera out of the water and took aim at it. Probably, the seals in Greenland have not yet aimed at hunters. Because of boxing, I could not see his face, but I heard a desperate squeal of the engine. The boat, turning sharply on the spot and not examining the road, went to the sea. And below is a photograph of that one-handed Inuit hunter made by Mike Reyfman.
