Gear

The one piece of gear that decides whether you see the fish. Small, soft, and yours: it has to fit your face, not the shop's.

A simple tube, and it should stay one. The features that sell snorkels are the features that ruin them for spearfishing.

Your engine. Long blades in a closed foot pocket, and the pocket matters more than the blade.

Two pieces of open-cell neoprene that stick to your skin. It keeps you in the water for hours, and the Atlantic is cold all year.

Between your hands and the rock, the urchins, the shaft and the teeth. Not optional on this coast.

Warm feet, no blisters, and a fin pocket that fits. Cheap, and the first thing beginners forget.

A stretchy rubber belt with a quick-release buckle. It has to stay on your hips at depth and come off with one hand at the surface.

How much lead, and where. The single adjustment that decides whether you are safe at the surface and comfortable on the bottom.

A barrel, a trigger, rubber bands and a shaft. The simplest reliable tool for the job, and the one to learn on. Length is the only real decision.

A band gun with pulleys at the muzzle, so the band pulls the shaft along the whole barrel. More power from a shorter gun, and less recoil, for a diver who already shoots well.

Compressed air instead of rubber. Compact, powerful for its length, and the traditional gun of the Mediterranean hole hunter.

The part that actually holds the fish. Diameter, tip and the notches that catch the band decide whether a hit is a fish or a scar.

The rubber that powers the gun and the wishbone that catches the shaft. Consumables, replaced every season, and the easiest upgrade there is.

Line on the gun instead of on a float. Freedom to move on rock, and the choice most Moroccan rock hunters make.

The metre or two of line between the shaft and the gun. It breaks more fish loose than any other part, and it costs almost nothing to get right.

A shaft, a rubber loop and your hand. The oldest tool, the cheapest, and the one that teaches you to get close.

The buoy at the surface that says a diver is below. It carries the flag, the fish, the spare shaft and, when it matters, you.

The line from the float to the gun. It gives a running fish something to fight other than you, and it is how you find a dropped gun.

The Alpha flag, blue and white, on a mast above the float. It is the one signal a boat is trained to recognise.

For the line you are wrapped in and the fish you have to dispatch. Small, sharp, and where your hand goes without looking.

Depth, dive time and, above all, the surface interval between dives. The number that keeps you conscious is the one you spend at the surface.

A needle and a cord to carry the catch. It hangs from the float, not from you.

Long enough for the fins, tough enough for the rock, and it drains. The bag decides whether your gear lasts.

A drop on the lens before the dive. Spit works, the bottle works better, and neither works until the new-mask film is burnt off.

A thick patch on the chest to brace the gun against when you load it. Your sternum will thank you by the tenth load.