On the soft white sands of Grace Bay Beach in Turks and Caicos, I watch the sea stretch out in lazy ribbons of turquoise and aquamarine. Grace Bay consistently ranks among the world’s most beautiful beaches, partly because a barrier reef a mile offshore keeps the waters calm and free of swells. Yet as I gaze over the horizon, I’m not really thinking about the water’s surface. I’m focused on what lies beneath.
Soon I will witness for myself how, a few hundred yards offshore, the seafloor suddenly drops away. Tethered to a buoy above, a rope trails down into the coral-specked depths. Turtles drift past, unhurried. Schools of angelfish flicker in beams of sunlight. Shortly, my free-diving lesson will become real, and with just a mask, fins, and a weight belt—no oxygen tank—I’ll lower myself into the depths. I’ll flip upside down, grab the rope, and pull myself hand over hand, soldier-style, into the blue, stopping only when my ears start to throb.
Descending deep beneath the surface without a breathing apparatus may look like a magic trick, like modern-day mermaids gliding effortlessly through the water. But free-diving is rooted in a tradition dating back tens of thousands of years. Oxygen tanks weren’t invented until the 19th century, yet there is evidence that Neanderthals 90,000 years ago dived deep for clams. In ancient Greece, sponge diving was listed as an Olympic event. And off the rugged coasts of Japan, the ama—traditional fisherwomen or “sea women”—have been diving to depths of up to 150 feet for at least 2,000 years to harvest pearls and seafood.
Today, free-diving is best known as a competitive sport that requires total mental and physical relaxation over the pursuit of adrenaline. Officially recognized in the 1970s by the World Underwater Federation, athletes now consistently break records. The most elite descend to astonishing depths of more than 400 feet—on one single breath.
For those like me, less drawn to competition, free-diving entices as a widely accessible and meditative way to slip beneath the surface and inhabit a new place, inviting you to slow down and immerse yourself deliberately in silence. In Turks and Caicos, this unhurried patience became my rhythm on land, too. Free-diving doesn’t just show you what’s below; it recalibrates how you experience everything above. Afterward, when kayaking through mangroves, I relished moments of drifting silently, paddle resting across my lap, waiting for sea turtles to pop their heads up for a quick gasp of breath. On Little Water Cay, also known as Iguana Island, I let myself linger on a sun-bleached rock, entranced with the comical dramas of the local reptile residents.
Free-diving is also low impact. Without the weight of heavy scuba gear or the noise of boat motors, the activity leaves a gentler footprint on fragile ecosystems. It promotes ocean conservation through exposure to sea life. Drifting quietly among rays, turtles, and swirling, colorful schools of fish, Turks and Caicos became more than a screensaver—it’s a living underwater scene.
But I had no idea that this quiet immersion would offer more than beauty. When so much of travel is about checking sights off a list, this is slow travel at its finest, where the goal isn’t to see more, but to see deeply. To discover its bonus benefits—and experience the island above water with the same attention I’d learned below—I first had to learn how to breathe.
To free-dive, forget everything you knew about breathing
Learning to free-dive, initially, anyway, has surprisingly little to do with water. Before plunging into the ocean depths, it’s all about control—of breath, of heart rate, of emotion, and of the mind. Free-diving works the whole body, yet its rewards extend far beyond the physical.
“Free-diving for me is pure mindfulness—it’s about being completely present and letting go,” says Samantha Kildegaard, an award-winning, Argentina-born PADI free-dive instructor based in Turks and Caicos; she owns the company Freedivewithme. “The more still you are inside, the more connected and safe the dive becomes.”
Her lessons begin with diaphragmatic breathing, or belly breathing, the same kind emphasized in practices like yoga. In the living room of my villa at Beach Enclave, Kildegaard guides me in slow, rhythmic breaths: from the diaphragm, filling the belly, increasing oxygen intake, and expanding lung capacity. Research shows that this type of breathing reduces stress, slows the heart, improves focus, and eases symptoms of anxiety, depression, and chronic pain. In a 2021 study published in Chronic Respiratory Disease, free-diving-inspired breathing techniques were even linked to managing chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD).
Some experience the benefits of diaphragmatic breathing remarkably quickly. “For many of my students, the transformation happens before they even touch the water,” Kildegaard says. “‘I already feel different,’ they’ll tell me after just one session.” She’s seen the shift so often that she now offers dedicated breathwork classes, no ocean required. “The science is catching up to what free-divers have always known,” she adds. “Conscious breath and silence heal on many levels.”
Mindfulness can turn an ordinary trip into an enlightening journey, and research suggests that travelers are more receptive to mindfulness practices while on vacation—and few settings are more conducive than the clear waters of the Caribbean.
The waters at Turks and Caicos’s Grace Bay Beach are placid enough to calm yourself down and turn thoughts inward.
Photo by Felipe Riserio Botelho/Shutterstock
Taking it to the water: Best places to free-dive
After noodling around with the technique in the villa pool, I head off to Grace Bay to see if I can put any of it to use. Luckily, there’s a reason why this beach is so ideal. “The ocean here is incredibly calm, clear, and gentle—perfect for both beginners and experienced divers,” says Kildegaard. “There’s this sense of intimacy with the sea; the reefs are vibrant, the water is warm, and conditions are stable year-round.” The best spots have a silence that pulls you inside yourself.
While Turks and Caicos offers ideal conditions, the practice has taken root in diverse waters around the globe. “It’s less about the location and more about the intention you bring,” Kildegaard says. “I really believe mindful free-diving can happen anywhere the ocean invites you to slow down.” Other locations that inspire quiet immersion include the cenotes of Mexico, where sunlight filters through ancient limestone caverns, and the tranquil waters of Amed, Bali, a favorite of free-divers. The blue hole of Dahab, Egypt, is a natural sinkhole and another prized location. And in the volcanic waters of the Azores, dolphins might frolic with you mid-dive.
There are no dolphins hanging around the buoy at Grace Bay today, just me, bobbing like a cork, mask, weight belt, and fins on, watching schools of fish zigzag beneath the surface. My breath is nervous and ragged but my will determined. I slow my breathing, letting the air in deeply, toward my lower belly. It takes a few tries before I feel ready. I upend myself vertically and begin my crawl down the rope. I make it down to 20 feet. Not bad for a first try.
How to plan a free-diving trip
Beach Enclave, where I stayed, will book your free-diving excursion. On Grace Bay Beach itself, Seven Stars Resort & Spa features award-winning dining, while the Palms—one of the original Turks and Caicos resorts—is celebrating 20 years with a fresh renovation.
Kildegaard’s Freedivewithme provides direct booking for lessons tailored to first-timers, experts, and everyone in between. All classes include essential land-based training before tackling the water.
If you want to take it further, put your newly acquired free-diving skills to the test on a Big Blue Collective boat tour, which stops at ideal scenic free-diving locations.
And take advantage of the food options while here. Conch, featured on the country’s flag, was vital to the Indigenous Taino—used for communication and making weapons. Today, it’s a local delicacy served in salad, curry, fritters, or cracked conch. Try it at Da Conch Shack, a beachside favorite perfect for dreaming of your next free-diving adventure.
