Jonathan Durtka prepares for a freedive to spearfish in Lake Huron’s Thunder Bay, in Michigan. He says that something needs to be done in order to protect the state’s beloved whitefish. “That’s a huge part of spearfishing,” he says, regarding fish conservation. “Without any fish, we can’t spear.” (Miles MacClure, Barn Raiser)
At 7 a.m. on a warm Sunday morning last fall in Alpena, Michigan, we arrived at the shores of Thunder Bay on Lake Huron to meet Jonathan Durtka, who was already on his boat at the dock, organizing his gear and making room for us on the bow. We were wetsuit-less, snorkel-less and wide-eyed. We wouldn’t be speargun fishing with Durtka, which involves the sport of harvesting a fish with a single breath, but simply watching—and breathing—from his Yamaha 190 FSH deluxe jet boat.
Months earlier, I discovered Durtka through my Instagram algorithm. Durtka now has over 20,000 followers under the handle @purelymispearfishing, where he posts videos and images of his life as a spearfishing advocate.
Jonathan Durtka prepares for a freedive to spearfish in Lake Huron’s Thunder Bay, in Michigan. He says that something needs to be done in order to protect the state’s beloved whitefish. “That’s a huge part of spearfishing,” he says, regarding fish conservation. “Without any fish, we can’t spear.” (Miles MacClure, Barn Raiser)
He discovered the sport in 2017 while living in San Diego, when he befriended kids who were lobster diving. “I’d never swam in the ocean,” says Durtka, who is Michigan born and bred, but after his first taste of diving, he knew it was for him.
To many observers–especially some commenters on Durtka’s Instagram–the apparent ease of spearing a fish makes the sport seem simple. Some people call it cheating. One wrote, “It’s easy to lie there and wait.”
Like any sport, there’s a competitiveness and machismo that taints any sense of camaraderie over the shared love of harvesting fish.
Yet, spearfishing can be romantic and intimate. As you swim amongst an underwater ecosystem, as close as 15 feet, you look your dinner in the eyes. You watch them hide. You see them swim in schools. You watch them attack other prey fish. This is their world you’re swimming in. Spearfishing allows the spearer to understand the fish.
Jonathan Durtka at the helm of his Yamaha boat in Michigan’s Thunder Bay. “We’re losing daylight!” he says at 9 a.m. (Miles MacClure, Barn Raiser)
Did you know?
Spearfishing involves freediving, which is when a spearer holds their breath anywhere from 15 seconds to 2 minutes depending on their experience level. An advanced freediver can hold their breath for 4 minutes or more.
Freediving has mental and physical health benefits, including increased lung capacity, enhancing cardiovascular health and improved stress and anxiety. In a 2024 study, participants reported that freediving underwater was similar to practicing yoga and being surrounded by marine life gave them feelings of happiness.
The process of holding one’s breath becomes more arduous for the freediver who hunts their food and thus exerts more physical strength. And in the case of Lake Michigan, the water is cold. For example, in the summer Lake Huron’s average warmest water surface temperature is 66 degrees.
It wasn’t until 2018, when he made his way back to Michigan, that he would try spearing in the Great Lakes. Up until 2022, speargun fishing in the lakes was only legal for junk fish, meaning less desirable fish for anglers—i.e. bullheads, carp, catfish, goldfish, smelt and suckers.
After his first spearfishing trip, Durtka thought it seemed unethical to kill and dispose of these fish without eating them. Spearfishers could, instead, harvest fish they intended to eat. He decided he wanted things to change. And he found that other spearos—the moniker spearfishers have given themselves—felt the same.
Durtka, who describes himself as a “get shit done” kind of guy, went on to do just that. He would ultimately help legalize speargun fishing for Trout, Walleye and Northern Pike—fish you want to eat—in certain areas of Lake Huron and Lake Michigan. Today, as president of the Michigan Spearfishing Association, he says he’s interested in “rebranding Midwestern spearfishing,” and wants people to know that Michigan is a destination for the freshwater sport.
Jonathan Durtka catches this buffalo carp in Lake St. Clair near St. Clair Shores, Michigan. (Jonathan Durtka, via Instagram)
In April 2019, Durtka contacted the Natural Resource Commission (NRC), where he gave a public testimony “regarding underwater spearfishing and the lack of table-worthy gamefish availability.” He honed in on areas of discrepancies in the current regulations as well. He highlighted the fact that the Department of Natural Resources (DNR) in Michigan had no regulations about spearfishing in swimming areas or boat docks. Soon enough, he got a meeting with Jim Dexter, the chief of the DNR Fisheries Division, where he introduced the ins and outs of spearfishing. Dexter agreed to move forward with the process.
From there, Durtka drafted regulations which would be presented at a series of DNR meetings with stakeholders, like internal DNR staff and biologists. But ultimately, the NRC had the final say.
Durtka has a big personality. He’s passionate, expressive and holds a wealth of knowledge. A Great Lakes guru, if you will. So it’s no surprise that the NRC order was presented at a 2021 meeting and officially implemented for the 2022 season.
Despite his success, the spearfishing regulations aren’t etched in stone. Durtka and his community of spearos have three years, with one more year remaining, to prove to the DNR and NRC that their trial period is worth it. If there are any issues reported in these three years, spearfishing for gamefish will no longer be permitted. Their trial period is simple: report harvests, follow the rules and fish responsibly.
Anyone who harvests a fish in the Great Lakes—game or non-game—is required to report their harvest every month to the DNR, which Durtka says helps them track mortality rates and catch rates.
Christian LeSage, a fisheries biologist at the Michigan Department of Natural Resources says monthly reporting is required for all spearfishing license holders to make sure overfishing doesn’t become an issue. “This will aid with evaluating the harvest,” he says. “Daily possession limits are in effect to share the harvest among all anglers.” He adds that changes can always be made if needed.
These laws don’t apply to other anglers, only spearers, but Durtka says it’s imperative that they follow these laws in hopes that the rules will be expanded after their trial period.
Regulations for each fish differ, too. Walleye season is all year round, with a daily possession of five fish. Northern Pike season is July 1 to March 15 with a daily possession of two fish. Fishing Lake Trout depends on spearing location, but each fish speared must be a minimum size of 15 inches.
Whitefish were legal to spear before 2022, but they are incredibly difficult to catch since they are usually found deep in the water and are particularly skittish.
Their difficulty is a good thing, however, as whitefish have been in the news as of late due to their dwindling numbers. Whitefish can live up to 30 years, but scientists have said the entire population could collapse in only a few years, decimating Michigan’s commercial fishing industry, where whitefish make up 85% of the catch.
Figure 1. Yields of lake whitefish from the state of Michigan. Data were obtained from BaldwinCommercial fishing on the Great Lakes was built on Lake Whitefish, leading to major species decline in the past two decades. Whitefish are now on the brink of collapse as scientists to spearfishers are now raising awareness and enacting protections to stabilize whitefish populations and conserve their habitat. (Great Lakes Fisheries Heritage Trail)
Whitefish eggs, which spawn on the reefs of Lake Michigan and Huron, are being exposed to dangerous UV levels due to a suitable ecosystem. Invasive quagga and zebra mussels have filtered the great lakes water making it if much clearer—and thereby much easier for a big fish to see and eat a whitefish spawning. Whitefish also spawn in the spot where they are born, and they may spawn in habitats that are today unsuitable for life.
Durtka says that something needs to be done in order to protect the state’s beloved whitefish. “That’s a huge part of spearfishing,” he says. “Without any fish, we can’t spear.” So, the efforts to increase fish populations are incredibly important to the anglers.
Conservation efforts, led by many tribes in the Great Lakes region, the DNR and the Nature Conservancy, include collecting whitefish eggs and re-homing them in rivers, hoping the fish will survive away from the lakes in a new environment.
If the reestablished spawning populations can be rewired to spawn in the rivers, Michigan could potentially save and stabilize its whitefish.
Durtka’s years-long effort, and the spearfishing community’s diligence in working with state agencies to improve both the sport and its conservation awareness, could soon pay off. In May, the Michigan Spearfishing Association announced that the DNR will make an official recommendation to the NRC to expand open waters and species for the 2026 season.
Championing conservation
Spearing is incredibly sustainable, Durtka explains to us while on his boat. You can physically see your fish before deciding to shoot it. Whereas with hook and line, you catch whatever you can and run the risk of injuring or killing a fish you won’t even eat.
Durtka says that catch-and-release type fishing isn’t possible with spearfishing. For spearos, their entire objective is to harvest a fish. Once you shoot the fish, there’s no turning back the hands of time, which results in a more careful process underwater. Spearos have to be entirely positive that they want to harvest a certain fish—there are no willy-nilly decisions if you’re holding a speargun.
Moreover, catch and release isn’t always as sustainable or innocent as it sounds. It can sometimes—and oftentimes—result in killing a fish regardless of whether you want to harvest it or not. Fishing with a lure requires a fisherman to pull a fish from the depths of the cold water to the warm surface in such a rapid time frame that the fish may be sent into a state of shock and exhaustion, equating to its ultimate demise. Other times, folks pose for photos for too long, or a fish swallows a hook.
“It’s wasteful,” says Durtka, explaining that with spearfishing, fish aren’t injured or wrongly killed. You see the fish, you hone in on it, and you decide to shoot it. It’s a quick death, and it isn’t unnecessary. Moreover, these are fish that the anglers are eating.
From 2024 to 2027, Durtka has a trial period where he hopes to prove that spear gun fishers are as worthy as any other fishers. And that they care about the water and the future of marine life, just like every other angler.
Gearing up
On our excursion with Durtka, Mark Halversen, who usually spearfishes off of his paddle board in Ohio, joins us. He’s followed Durtka for years on Instagram, but this is their first time meeting face-to-face. Two other spearos from Indiana whom Durtka knows are on a separate boat following close behind. Halversen tells me he’s a novice compared to Durtka. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for this guy.”
It’s clear Durtka has done this a few hundred times. Where everyone else takes some time to gather their gear, Durtka makes it look easy. He’s quick and sharp and in the water before no time. “We’re losing daylight!” he says at 9 a.m.
Durtka emerges from the water in Thunder Bay after a catch. The attached tube allows spearers to string their catch together. (Miles MacClure, Barn Raiser)
Spear gun fishing involves little gear, but you want it to be quality gear or else it’ll set you back. The essentials are a wetsuit, a snorkel, a weighted rubber belt to counteract the buoyancy of the wetsuit, fins and gloves.
When spearos get into the water, their body dissipates heat at a 25-30% faster rate than when they are on land. Many spearos in the Great Lakes begin to swim when the water gets to the upper 50s.
In July 2024, Durtka became the first person to speargun a lake trout since it became legal, by diving 50 feet in 46-degree water. So, a wetsuit is pretty crucial for deep diving.
And of course, there’s the speargun, which ranges from hand-propelled spears, rubber-propelled spears, spring-propelled spears, bows and arrows, or crossbows.
Durtka and Halversen are both shooting with rubber-propelled guns made by Fish Sticks, a Florida-based company that creates custom guns for customers.
The safety components regarding guns are clear: Don’t point your gun at anyone or anything that you don’t intend to shoot. And don’t ever use your gun out of the water. Spearguns are required to have bands unloaded from the spear and the safety on when the angler is moving around the boat or entering and exiting the water to prevent accidents.
LeSage says spear gun fishing isn’t any different from hunting in terms of safety and regulations. “People need to follow all rules/laws and be careful. People who are diving must have a dive flag, plus be observant for potential risks associated with this,” he says.
Mark Halversen prepares for a dive in Thunder Bay, with a diver down flag raised behind him. (Miles MacClure, Barn Raiser)
Durtka says he prefers to use fiber fins for diving. “I notice a difference with the fiber versus the non-fiber. It’s just a lot smoother. You don’t have to kick as hard, and they have more reactivity out of them,” he says.
A fitted mask is key so that no leaks or fogged lenses inhibit your ability to see and shoot. (I get a crash course in how to de-fog your goggles—all you need is a little baby shampoo.) Having a perfectly fitted wetsuit will make spearing more comfortable, too.
There are no lures, bait containers, hooks or rods discarded in the waterways with spearfishing. It’s a clean and simple sport. Just you and your gun.
“Obviously, each person has their own way of doing it [spearfishing], but generally speaking, you just get in the water, and you know what fish you’re looking for and you start tracking them and looking for it,” Durtka says. “And before you know it, you’re making shit happen.”
It’s important to remember, however, that spearfishing isn’t risk-free. Spearos are diving into cold, dangerous water with spearguns and fishing for up to five hours or more at a time. They are holding their breath, putting themselves in danger of drowning or experiencing a blackout.
Durtka can hold his breath for over two minutes. In 2021, he learned how to free dive during a two-day course with Roy Ferreira, a retired Navy veteran in Miami, Florida, who runs Freedive305. Ferreira is matter-of-fact and employs a “you just have to do it” attitude rather than a “be one with the water” mentality, which is what attracted Durtka to his course.
The difficulty of holding your breath underwater for extended amounts of time is one reason folks should never dive alone. Plus, it’s easy to see how quickly divers can get separated. Even as we were standing on the boat, it could be difficult to spot the crew until they popped their heads up, bobbing in the black water. This is why a diver’s flag is so important—it isn’t just for boaters but for fellow divers, too.
There’s generally a diver down, diver up rule where spearos take turns going underwater. Everyone diligently followed this rule, making sure everyone was close and aware of one another’s location.
We watched from the boat as their fins shot into the air as they descent into Lake Huron’s depth. Would they pop up with tonight’s dinner?
The misconception of ease
We never joined the crew in the water for spearing, but we did jump in for a quick dip to swim over a shipwreck. Alpena is situated on Michigan’s notorious Thunder Bay, where 116 shipwrecks rest on the lake bed. Shipwrecks are a paradise for marine life. They attract fish, invertebrates and algae, and it’s where many anglers are bound to find their harvest. But even so, over the course of five hours, Durtka catches two fish: a sucker and a Walleye. The remainder of the crew doesn’t have any luck.
Durtka explains that earlier in the season he went to Port Austin with a friend. “We got eight a piece in about three hours,” he says. “They were just friggin’ everywhere, and we only went to two spots, and that was it.”
Some days you’re lucky, and other days you’re empty-handed—similar to any type of hunting or hook-and-line fishing.
All fishermen who are using a speargun must have a valid DNR fishing license (annual resident, $26, daily resident/nonresident, $10) and a no-cost underwater fishing permit (free).
Spearfishing is prohibited 30 minutes before sunrise and 30 minutes after sunset. Spearing is also prohibited within 150 feet of swimming areas, boat docks or boat access. In Lake Michigan, spearers can only spear in the waters south of the southernmost pier at Grand Haven, while in Lake Huron, it’s the waters south of the southernmost pier of the Thunder Bay River.
If one thing is for certain, spearfishing is not cheating. It’s incredibly physical, requiring you to be fit enough to dive down at least 10 ft (but 30 ft. is the ideal range), hold a gun, hold your breath, and aim to kill. By the end of our trek, Durtka says, “I tell you what, I’m already pooped, man. I burn more calories than someone sitting on a boat.”
Nevertheless, the negative rhetoric about the ease of spearfishing doesn’t perturb Durtka. If anything, it lights a fire inside him.
While on the boat, we didn’t stay in one location. The spearos swam in an area for 30 minutes to an hour before we headed to another spot. Durtka would remember a shipwreck up ahead or underwater vegetation where fish like to hide and swim, and we would high-tail it, a thrilling ride to the next location, imagining what could be waiting under the water on this Sunday morning.
At our last location of the day, Durtka shoots out of the water, his pearly whites glimmer against the cobalt waves, holding a fish over his head. “That’s what a good ol’ Lake Huron Walleye looks like,” he says.
Our day was done. He shouts with enthusiasm over the sound of the water, “Throw up the sails boys, we’re going home!”