RealSea Marine Camo News

Real Sea is excited to be part of the 5th Annual Blue Wild Ocean Adventure Expo this year! It takes place at the Broward County Convention Center from May 28 through May 29, and children under 10 are free. On May 30, the South Florida Freedivers Club will host the Art Pinder International Spearfishing Championship.

The event includes a vendor expo, speaker seminars, hands-on workshops, and marine art and photography exhibits, and it allows those who are most passionate about freediving, scuba diving, spearfishing, boating, water and sports safety, conservation, marine art, and underwater photography and videography to connect and converse.

Our very own Kim Wojcieszak (aka Kim Wojo) will speak at the event! The Real Sea team will have a special display booth set up showing off our unique camouflage wetsuits and amazing spearfishing adventures. You’ll be able to see our video of our alligator speargun hunting trip into Lake Okeechobee.

Some other featured speakers include Award-Winning Cinematographer/Producer Stan Waterman; William Trubridge, a freediver and world record holder; Manny Puig: world-renowned shark wrangler, swamp explorer and sculptor; Dr. Terry Maas, a spearfishing champion, inventor and videographer; and Multiple World Record Holder Martin Stepanek.

The Real Sea team grew up in the playground of the sea and spent the past few years developing the ultimate underwater tool: a specialized camouflage wetsuit pattern unique to the marine environment.  This is the only camouflage pattern that actually uses  elements from the sea, like Sargasso seaweed, to help blend the user with his/her marine environment. Whether you’re spearfishing or just enjoying the sites of the sea, you’ll quickly become the sea with the Real Sea Camo wetsuits, rashguards, diveskins and other underwater apparel.

Come to the expo, and check out the Real Sea booth! Contact Real Sea Camo for wetsuit information or details on the annual Blue Wild Ocean Adventure Expo: realseacamo@bellsouth.net; 772-260-0036. “Like” us on Facebook: Real Sea Camo for spearfishing/diving tips and upcoming sales!

The title of this article is not about that inner spirit of man that drives our passion, desires and need to accomplish and succeed, but it is about that fist-sized muscle in our chest, beating 100 times per minute and driving rich oxygenated blood to our brain, internal organs and extremities. How many times do we take for granted this amazing perpetual pump that channels life through our veins that allow us to enjoy our wonderful sport of spearfishing?

The winter of 2010 was the coldest I can remember, and the summer that followed seemed to be hottest I could remember. I was having a tough time adjusting to the heat and assumed that at 56 years old I needed to face reality and attribute it to my age. For some reason my mind would not allow my thoughts and negative thinking to use age as an excuse. After all I was 6 feet 3 inches, in good shape and not overweight at 215 pounds. I walked or rode my bike often, actively worked outside in my construction business, spearfished, swam and for my age was still very active. My blood pressure was perfect, and my cholesterol was not abnormally high. The only problem with that thinking was that my body was telling me something else. Almost every day by 2 p.m., I was exhausted and had an excruciating headache. Always my prognosis: it was just the heat, and my sinuses were acting up because of pollen. Besides two months ago, I was free diving 70 feet off the Jupiter Loran tower with Brian Lee and Josh Larsen, two of the best free dive spearos I know and spear fishing almost every weekend with no problems. That recurring burning feeling and tightness in my chest was obviously just excess gas.

Well, after a long, hot, busy summer, it was time to go spearfishing one more time before my Florida Keys vacation. The seas were 3 to 4 feet as we pounded our way out to the Sand Pile 3 and a half miles east of the St Lucie Inlet. Viz was top to bottom in 40 feet of salt water (fsw) with a hard north tide. It was a good day to be under the water with plenty of fish. A 20-pound cuda was an easy shot as soon as I hit the water. While swimming back to the boat against the tide and fighting the cuda, I felt a sharp pain in my left chest, became light headed and saw stars for a second. Back on the boat it hurt to breathe, and all I could think of was what a bad time to pull a chest muscle. I did not dive the rest of the day, I just captained the boat for my dive partners and let them spearfish. I was leaving for the Keys in a week, and I figured that would give enough time for my so-called “pulled chest muscle” to heal.

By now, I’m sure you are starting to get the idea of where I am heading with this article, but there is plenty more to come.

The first week in the Keys was great with clear water, calm seas and plenty of fish. No real problems spearing fish in 25 to 40 fsw other than all the issues mentioned above. Our second week started with bad weather and a few days of sitting at the dock. Not bad, I thought, as it would give me a few days to rest up. Three days later I was tired and ready to head home. That burning and tightness in my chest just would not go away no matter how many Tums, Alka-Seltzer or Pepcid I took.

My wife wanted to stop and have lunch even though I had no appetite, but at this point, I gave in and thought maybe eating something would help. One hour from home, the pain in my chest was getting worse, and all I tasted was a crispy fried chicken sandwich. Must have been bad chicken, I assumed, and thought I was about to get sick. When finally home, all I wanted to do was go lay on the couch. Unpacking the boat and truck would just have to wait, but the more I laid there the more my chest hurt.

Within 30 minutes, the pain was so severe that I could barely move. The sweat started pouring out of me like a water hose, and when my arms started to tremble uncontrollably, I finally realized that this was not heart burn or food poisoning. There was no big tough macho man image to maintain at this point, and through the pain I yelled at my wife who was upstairs to call 911. She did not believe me at first, but once downstairs with one look at my ghost pale, sweaty and trembling body, the game was on. It was a 10-minute drive to the closest hospital, and we figured we could make it quicker than calling an ambulance. While in the ER, it was obvious that I was having a full-blown heart attack, and once halfway stable, I was loaded into an ambulance for the 5-mile ride to the Martin Memorial Cath Lab. God was really smiling on me as Dr. Mac and his team were waiting on me ready to do what had to be done. All I can say is what a well-oiled machine that team was. Two hours and three stints later, I was wheeled out of the operating room feeling pretty good from the twilight anaesthesia with 16 of my family members in the waiting room. It was very comforting to me and gracious of the nurses and Dr. Mac to let all of them see me before going into ICU for the night.

It wasn’t until I woke up several hours later that I realized the magnitude of what just happened. One artery had been 100-percent blocked by a blood clot, and two more were more than 95-percent blocked with plaque. Two days later, I was home with plenty of time to think for a couple weeks. The mental recovery was far more difficult than the physical recovery. I became angry, depressed and embarrassed that I could have a heart attack when there were so many out of shape, over-eaters my age trucking right along in life. Six weeks after my attack and after several more tests and doctor visits, I have become much more aware of what happened. I cannot discuss it intelligently in medical terms, so I have attempted to write about it in words most people can associate with. I told the doctor that I was very upset and depressed that I had a heart attack when so many men I knew were overweight and out of shape. He reassured me that I made it back from “the edge” because I was in such good shape, and those men I was mad at were the ones who usually don’t make it. That answer really hit home and made me realize that God had given me a tremendous opportunity. What if my heart attack had happened 3 or 4 miles offshore in rough seas? If that were the case then I probably would not be here to write this article.

Did I fail to mention that my father died at 48 years old from a massive heart attack? This along with all of the physical problems mentioned earlier was just a prerequisite to the path I was on. I was always told that genes were a big part in whether you would have heart problems or not but I figured that once I lived past 48, I would be home free.

As you read this article you are either thinking what a dummy I am or what a dummy you may be. I don’t care if you free dive 5 feet or 105 feet, if you’re 15 years old or 70, have bad genes or good, are in shape or out, listen to your body. Please do not be afraid to mar your macho spearfishing image by going to the doctor for a check-up or for an unusual pain. There have been many articles written about your heart and scuba diving but very few, if any, I can find on the effects of free diving. I lived to dive another day, and I hope this article will start a new awareness of a divers heart so that you also will live to dive another day. Oh and one last remark, CALL 911; don’t drive.

Kim Wojcieszak

Team RealSea

I am not politically-correct and, to me, a jewfish is a jewfish. I just cannot seem to bring myself to call them grouper, and I have been following many blogs on whether or not to have a season on these underwater Volkswagons.

On a beautiful spring day in1969, my brother and I went spearfishing. The conditions were perfect, and back then, we just wore our cut-off blue jeans. We were diving in an area just off Hobe Sound that we called Red Bar. It was a great spot to ambush fish coming or going from the reef.

We anchored our boat and dove in. I saw a sight that day that I’ve never seen since: there were so many large jewfish congregated on the bottom that it looked like a herd of cattle. Carrying our Voit Swimaster Spearguns, we were pumped to spear a 300-pounder, but our Voits were no match for fish of this size and power.

We came upon that monster, but he quickly hid under a ledge. Everything we did wouldn’t make him budge, so finally we managed to string a rope through his mouth and gills and hauled that baby out with our 35 horsepower Johnson boat.

When we pulled up to the fish house with our prized behemoth, some of the old commercial guys told us that the fish were spawning, and that’s why there were so many. Back then, jewfish were everywhere in the rivers and reefs. One of our favorite spots was the Sun Parlor, now Sailfish Point, where we landed “Old Moe,” a 100-pounder.

I’ll never forget hanging out at the fish house when some of the commercial guys would pull up with two or three 300-400lb fish in their truck beds. All it took was a trip to the channel of the Roosevelt Bridge,  rope, a shark hook and a 10lb Jack to catch one.

The truth behind the jewfish ban

Most think the ban is due to over-fishing, but I never saw that many jewfish being brought to the fish house. In reality, at a nickel per pound, there were so many other species to target that would have brought more money. There just was not a demand for the tough, coarse, sinewy meat of a jewfish. The total commercial catch for the 1988 eastern Atlantic season was only 13,000lbs, and  we would catch twice that amount of mackerel or kingfish in just one trip. The economics of catching jewfish, at least in our area, just were not there.

The thought of habitat destruction might make more sense. When I graduated from high school in 1971, Florida was beginning to experience its population boom. The whole state experienced rapid mass development, and therefore habitats, natural lowlands and swamps were destroyed. This was the worst thing that could have happened.

Years before this, the Army Corp of Engineers straightened the Kissimmee river, which destroyed the natural water shed of the Everglades. Lake Okeechobee turned into a giant toilet for Florida. This has been the major cause of habitat destruction of our marine estuaries throughout the state. I might not have a PhD, but I am smart enough to know that the fish will leave if their current location is no longer a suitable habitat.

The jewfish simply went somewhere else to find a better home. I think it was habitat destruction that scared away all the jewfish, but someone who may not have been educated in what commercial fishermen and spearfishmen do thought we were catching too many. He saw one of us with a large jewfish and came to the conclusion that they were all being killed off. He thought we were destroying reefs and fish populations. He thought something had to be done. So what came next was a ban of fishing for jewfish. Now some pencil pusher suddenly becomes an expert on jewfish and is hired to write rules and regulations from his studies.

I think the truth behind the ban lies with money. Ever notice when a species is put on a concern, threatened or endangered list that grant money begins pouring in? Millions of dollars to study jewfish has been given to companies to figure out how to vent the fish once it’s on the surface. I could have done that for $200. Google it for yourself; it’s all on the Internet.

I am in favor of regulating a limited season on jewfish but not banning fishing for them completely.

Jewfish are capable of destroying their habitats with overpopulation just like deer and turkeys are, so they must be kept in check. Studies show that jewfish grow slowly and can live between 50 and 80 years. Here’s my question for you: if the species were almost wiped out 20 years ago, where did all these big jewfish we see today come from? They could not grow that big in 20 years. Like I said before, they must have gone somewhere else with better living conditions.

Spearfishing is the most selective, environmentally-friendly type of harvesting on the planet. We spearos must lead the effort to lobby for a limited season on jewfish. With all of our resources, we must come up with limited-season guidelines that are fair, will protect resources and will guarantee money for the state. Responsible spearfishing has always been a part of responsible conservation!

Kim Wojo

Realsea Inc.

The year 1960 was a magical time for a 7-year-old boy. On the weekends, my mom would take us down to Sandsprit Park, in Stuart, Fla., with a paper bag full of home-made fried chicken and a bucket full of cold RC Colas. We would spend the day exploring the Manatee Pocket with our double snorkel plastic masks that had the little balls in the top to keep the water out. The pocket was clear back then and had marine life everywhere. I just could not get enough of the crabs, puffer fish, stingrays, sea robins and ink fish. I was hooked on the silent underwater world.

Several years later, my dad was transferred to the Coast Guard base in St. Petersburg. Old broomstick handles with a nail fastened to the end for spear points soon turned into single-band Arbalete spearguns from the Base PX. Our new playground was not monkey bars, swings or slides but the docks and pilings at the Coast Guard base where we stalked sheepshead and snapper always under the watchful eyes of the Coasties. It was easy to become one of Captain Nemo’s crew searching for adventure in the mysterious underwater world. One fish with one breath soon became addictive.

It didn’t take long for my brother and me to dream of bigger fish and more underwater adventures. The Gandy Bridge was just a short bike ride away, so we loaded our gear into our baskets. And off we went. Swimming from the shore to the bridge pilings soon became our private underwater hunting grounds. We further honed our skills on the abundance of spadefish, filefish, sheepshead and snappers. Riding home with our baskets full of fish made planning our next trip even more exciting.

In 1968, after my dad retired, we moved back to Port Salerno. It was great to be back because our hunting grounds had expanded beyond our young, wild dreams. The St. Lucie inlet with its jetty and reefs north and south became our new underwater hunting sanctuary. We even spearfished in the middle of the inlet at slack water. We knew of several deep holes that always held a small jewfish or two. There was very little boat traffic other than the commercial guys, and most of them knew us and gave us leeway.

Jewfish, turtles and just about everything else were legal to spear back then. There was very little or no presence of the Marine Patrol, FWC or Sheriff’s Dept. There were very few of us even in the sport of spearfishing. With the start of the population boom of the 70′s, our sleepy little commercial village started to change. Over the next few years, there became too much boat traffic to dive the inlet, river and jetty, so we moved our spearfishing south to “The Hole.” We never came back without a cooler full of snapper and grouper.

With the increasing popularity of recreational boating and fishing, our spearfishing trips soon turned hazardous. After almost being run over countless times and having lead sinkers thrown at us, we realized what we loved most was becoming unpopular. We were accused of destroying the reefs and running off all the fish. For the next decade, our reefs were being used by those that believed  you must look but not touch, and the only thing you should shoot with is a camera. Back then, going into a dive shop looking for spearguns brought nasty looks and hateful remarks. I really thought the sport I loved was nearing its end.

I could not understand how others thought we were murdering sea life because spearfishing is the most sustainable way to harvest fish. We only target one fish at a time depending on its type, size and season. We are not catching dozens of fish that are too small or out of season and throwing them back hoping they will survive. To me, there is no way spearfishermen can deplete an entire species.

Fortunately, the extreme sport of spearfishing has once again become popular, and it is growing at a 15-20 percent per annum rate. Modern-day spearos are more in tune with their environment than any other group. They see the condition of our reefs and fish species up close and personal. Our gear has become much more efficient as are our means of harvest and the chance of lost fish (other than to sharks and cudas) is minimal. There is nothing like spearing a dolphin or wahoo in the deep blue water of the Gulfstream or fat grouper or snapper off the reef. One breath, one fish is really very rare, and we spend most of our time going up and down just trying to get a shot at our wary but tasty prey all the while in their beautiful, exhilarating, mysterious underwater world.

If you want to get back to the sea up close and personal, try it, one breath at a time. Hopefully in the future I can bring more exciting stories and hunting adventures from our underwater world.

In an effort to become the sea, Real Sea Camo created their own camouflage wetsuit patterns.

All of RealSea’s camouflage wetsuits are custom fabricated and made from best fabrics. They’re made of an environmentally-friendly Yamamoto neoprene.
The neoprene surface combined with the titanium lining provides the best thermal protection available. It keeps you warm by retaining your natural body heat, prevents bacterial buildup and creates low friction for smooth motion throughout the sea. Also on the inside of each wetsuit is a soft, comfortable jersey fabric. This makes the wetsuit easy to take off after a day in the ocean.
The neoprene is covered by a camouflage layer of polyester to create a durable, tough outer layer.
Large padded chest gun-loading pads are part of every suit. They’re designed for each person and makes sure no cold water can leak in with its seals in the cuffs, ankles and face.
Real Sea Camo’s wetsuits will hold up against demanding performance among reefs, rocks and wrecks.
This company has grown greatly, and it now sells many other marine products with their unique camo pattern. Some of their products include license plates, gloves, socks and rashguards.
The guys of Real Sea Camo are adventurers themselves! The owner and developer is a member of Palm Beach Free Divers. They love spearfishing, hunting and fishing. They even recently went spearfish hunting for alligators in Florida.

The men of Real Sea Camo decided to test out their wetsuits in the middle of Lake Okeechobee during gator hunting season. Armed with nothing more than a spear and a camouflage wetsuit, the adrenaline pumped through their veins as they achieved their goal. You’ve got to check out our YouTube video! >>

Hi,

I’m attaching a few photos of some nice fish shot I shot in West Palm Beach with my new lucky wet suit!

30lb – Black
20lb – Gag

Thanks!!

RealSea Marine Camo was the first to utilize digital photo’s of real marine life and develop a 3d pattern for the ocean environment. Our Sargasso seaweed pattern has been out for more than 2 years and was being developed for 2 years prior. Other company’s falsely claim that they were the first. RealSea marine Camo, cutting edge. Team Realsea

Could not be prouder of my 8 year old grandson, Cody, spearing hogfish in 25 fsw off Lower Matecumbe in the keys.  Teaching him the art and sport of spearfishing is what we all need to do with the younger spearo’s. Lets keep our passion and sport alive. Teach others to spearfish and then take them. Kim, team RealSea