Fearless and Against the Wind: Lin Music, the Eagle-Eyed Female Dive Guide and Instructor

The Editor says: "Lives Changed by the Ocean — Special Feature" This time we invite Lin Music, known to many as the eagle-eyed dive guide. But did you know that before she became a dive instructor, she was actually a quiet, reserved pastry chef who shied away from interacting with people? What kind of transformation turned her into the lively, sharp-eyed dive guide she is today? Follow the Editor's interview to learn the fascinating stories of every ocean-obsessed soul we meet!

Born in the 1980s, in the post-baby-boom era, this generation has gradually been labeled the "Strawberry Generation" by many. They strive to prove that their cohort is different, yet most find themselves weighed down by a sluggish economy and a relentless pace of life, suppressing their inner universe, blending into the crowds of the city, and slowly losing their sense of self.

Diving Opens the Door to a Career as a Dive Guide

Lin Music attended a vocational high school, studying general business information technology. Without a prestigious academic background or family connections, she was compelled to apprentice at a Western-style bakery while still in junior high, working part-time to support her studies. In those first two or three years as an apprentice, her constant companions were endless stacks of pots, pans, and baking trays waiting to be scrubbed by hand — the burnt flour and ingredients caked onto the baking trays were her first lesson in building hand strength.

Her twelve years as an apprentice and then a pastry chef were neither short nor long in the span of a life. While the work suited Lin Music's quiet, reserved personality — she could retreat into the small world of the kitchen and express herself freely, without having to interact face-to-face with customers — she always felt as though there was a knot inside her that she couldn't untie.

In 2014, she heard that a friend had gone to Orchid Island to work in exchange for a diving certification and had earned her Open Water licence. A seed was planted in her heart. At the time, her idea of diving came straight from Discovery Channel — foreign special forces units riding underwater scooters with closed-circuit rebreathers. But after seeing her friend's series of photos and hearing her stories, it felt as though that knot inside her suddenly came loose.

Looking back over those twelve years in the bakery, she had always sensed that she shouldn't be confined to that small kitchen — perhaps she was capable of trying a different kind of life. But she had never found a concrete goal to pursue. When her friend told her about the unique qualities of diving and the possibility of travelling abroad through it, she encouraged herself to take on the challenge.

And so, with remarkable decisiveness, she made her move. On a Friday, she saw a post shared by an Orchid Island dive shop advertising a work-for-certification opening. On Saturday, she handed in her resignation at the bakery. On Sunday, she flew to Orchid Island alone to begin her work-exchange journey.

During those three short months on Orchid Island, Lin Music met divers from all walks of life, earned her first diving certification (Open Water), and discovered in her very first dives that she was genuinely, wholeheartedly in love with the sport. Underwater, there was no need to talk to anyone, and she could encounter extraordinary creatures that simply don't exist on land. She decided then and there to pursue a career as a professional dive instructor.

In 2015, Music set off for Kenting to complete her dive instructor certification. But before earning her instructor rating — during the Advanced Diver and Rescue Diver stages — she could only do odd jobs at the dive shop, earning very little while having to pay off her certification fees in instalments. At her most financially stretched, she had just NT$16 left in her wallet. She is deeply grateful to the dive shop owner of that time, who allowed her to pay off both the instructor course fees and the expensive dive equipment in instalments. She is equally grateful to the friends who extended a helping hand when she was at her lowest, sharing meals with her so she wouldn't go hungry.

A Chance Encounter with Nudibranchs in Kenting

Within just one year in Kenting, Lin Music not only obtained her instructor rating at remarkable speed, but she also logged more than 1,000 scuba tank dives that year — rapidly accumulating experience while thoroughly exploring the underwater beauty of Kenting. Throughout this year, Lin Music's trademark tenacity and refusal to give up surfaced once again. Freshly certified as an instructor, she had heard talk of a peculiar creature living beneath Kenting's waters: the nudibranch. In her early diving days she had caught glimpses of these creatures, but their small size had never quite captured her attention — until the day she happened upon Flabellina bicolor, nicknamed the "Fire Kirin," and it utterly awakened the universe within her.

She pored over every nudibranch field guide in the shop, and through careful study discovered that Kenting was home to a remarkable variety of nudibranch species. She began adding numerous underwater photography masters as friends on Facebook, and through research learned that these masters commonly went night diving in Kenting to seek out nudibranchs. And so began her quest to find these nudibranch-hunting masters — a journey that would become one of the most memorable chapters of her diving career.

At first, Lin Music was unfamiliar with the terrain and had no night diving experience, so she went around asking instructors in Kenting whether she could join them for a night dive. She asked instructors from her own shop, instructors from other shops, and even freediving instructors — and was turned down by every one of them. Undeterred, she steeled herself and chose to go out on her own, heading out for solo night dives at dawn and dusk each day outside of work hours. (Editor's note: This is not recommended — please don't follow this example.) Beyond mastering the terrain, the psychological pressure was immense. And of course, adding two extra dives on top of at least four dives per working day was a serious physical strain. But with each successive dive, she gradually extended her range and depth, and as she grew to understand the risks of night diving, she found that Kenting at night was like a treasure mountain, just waiting to be explored.

In the beginning, Lin Music didn't know how to edit photos — she simply uploaded whatever nudibranch shots she had taken to Facebook. But as the variety of nudibranchs she found grew, she quietly caused a stir in Kenting's diving community. The very instructors who had refused to take her night diving began to reach out proactively, inviting her to dive with them — hoping her keen search skills would help them find nudibranch species that were rarely seen. Through this mutually beneficial arrangement, Lin Music was able to rapidly explore other dive sites around Kenting and build her experience.

The reason Lin Music developed her extraordinary eagle-eyed search ability is closely tied to this period of self-guided exploration in Kenting. As she grew more familiar with the dive sites in her later time there, she began searching for nudibranchs alongside freediving instructors. Because freedivers tether themselves to a surface buoy and dive vertically from a fixed point, she — following alongside with her scuba gear — couldn't venture too far for safety reasons, and was confined to searching a single reef. Yet this constraint led her to discover that finding small macro creatures doesn't require covering a wide area; you can make astonishing discoveries by thoroughly exploring just one rock. Because she found so many creatures, she came to understand the habits of each species deeply — meaning that when guiding divers in the future, she could quickly locate creatures and share them with her guests.

Of the many experiences she had while searching for nudibranchs in Kenting in 2015, two stand out as particularly memorable. The first: because she frequently dived alongside freedivers who had no tank air constraints, and because Lin Music herself was exceptionally air-efficient, there was one occasion in Wanlitong when she spent 90 minutes underwater searching for a rare dream nudibranch. On the long kick back to shore, she and the freediving instructor were happily chatting about the shots they'd just taken and gazing up at the stars — completely unaware that the dive shop on shore had already filed a report with the Coast Guard. (Editor's note: They had been gone for 4 hours since leaving the shop; a typical scuba dive lasts about 45 minutes.) When they finally came ashore, they found the seawall crowded with people and flashlights, and thought some kind of special celebration was underway — which gave them quite a laugh.

Taiwan's First Night Diving Fine

The second experience was far more frustrating. Overseas, night diving is a well-established, highly professional activity. Because night dives allow divers to observe species and behaviors that are simply not visible during the day — breeding, feeding, and other special behaviors that often occur after dark — many award-winning underwater photography competition entries are captured on night dives. On one occasion, as Lin Music surfaced and returned to shore, she found Coast Guard officers waiting on the beach — and was issued what became Taiwan's first-ever night diving fine. After looking into the matter, she discovered that the Kenting National Park Management Office had regulations on the books requiring that night dives be pre-approved, yet searching every relevant government agency turned up no corresponding application office. It was like something out of a Rashomon story. In the end, after a series of meetings involving numerous diving industry operators, local representatives, and the management office, the matter was simply dropped without resolution.

This incident exposed the deep inadequacy of Taiwan's marine recreational activity management regulations, and the bureaucratic mindset of the agencies responsible. In contrast, Lin Music — having dived extensively overseas — had personally witnessed how seriously other countries take dive tourism, and how far ahead of Taiwan their relevant government agencies are. It was impossible not to feel a sense of resignation.

As Lin Music's nudibranch photos on Facebook became increasingly impressive, more and more divers began specifically requesting her as their dive guide. Some would even hand her a "wish list" of nudibranchs they hoped to see on a given dive. Whether she was guiding at the Northeast Coast macro paradise dive site 82-5k or posted up in Penghu, divers would still request her by name — and for Lin Music, this recognition was nothing less than a form of self-validation.

Through her guiding work, Lin Music has had the opportunity to meet corporate executives and top international underwater photography experts — encounters she never could have imagined before becoming a dive instructor. By this point, she was no longer the apprentice hunched over mountains of flour in a tiny pastry kitchen; she had become a skilled, independent professional macro dive guide.

Looking ahead, Lin Music hopes to set a benchmark within Taiwan's dive guiding community. The current structure in Taiwan ties dive guides largely to the shops they work for, and under the shop's drive to maximize revenue, guides are often pressured to keep dives short in order to turn over more customers — a philosophy at odds with Lin Music's vision of photography-focused guided dives. (Editor's note: A standard single-tank dive lasts about 45 minutes, while a photography dive can run as long as 90 minutes.) Her goal is to build her own reputation from the ground up, drawing inspiration from elite eagle-eyed dive guides abroad, and to offer one-on-one photography dive guide services — a differentiated alternative to the standard group dive trips run by most shops.

Beyond personal achievement, Lin Music also hopes to make a small contribution to Taiwan's oceans. From time to time she is approached by international professional underwater photography masters or dive groups requesting her as a guide, and whenever her schedule allows, she never hesitates to help. She asks only that they cover her transportation and dive costs, because she has always believed: the more people who come to dive in Taiwan's waters, the more opportunities there are — through their cameras — for the world to see the beauty of the ocean.

The road Lin Music has walked to become a dive instructor has been harder than most. Beyond the financial pressures, her stubborn, unyielding nature has occasionally rubbed people the wrong way, making the journey even more bumpy. But she encourages young people who are still hesitating at life's crossroads: try opening your heart and exploring different experiences. You never know whether the next field you try might be the one that ignites your passion — just as diving did for Lin Music.

Related links:

• Lin Music's Facebook
• Music Lin 林音樂 I Am a Dive Instructor
• What Does It Really Mean to Be a Dive Guide? We've All Had It Wrong