Oyster Diving with the Fisher Queen of Sweden

Lotta Klemming has a firm grip around the oyster; her other hand moves the knife with sharpness and precision to open it. Her gaze, focused and still, seems to be somewhere far away. “It’s very meditative,” she says. “The work is monotonous and you have time to think about other things. Also, when you are diving you have to take care of your breathing and your movements, you are very present in your own body”. She laughs. “God, this sounds so silly.”

I’m by the sea in Bohuslän with 33-year-old Klemming, Sweden’s only professional oyster diver. After seven years in the fashion industry, working for H&M opening stores both globally and locally, she found herself in a spiritual crisis: “I felt trapped. It was a real hamster wheel. I couldn’t look in the mirror as one of all the women trying to climb to the top. I don’t have sharp elbows.

Now, each week, he travels to his family’s home in Grebbestad on Sweden’s west coast, a small town of 1,900 known for its beautiful archipelago and thriving historic fishing industry. “I felt that the ocean was calling me; it really saved my life,” she says. There, her father and her uncle run an oyster company, Bröderna Klemmings Dykhjälp, a small-scale operation and hobby project, barely covering the costs of materials. In 2015 Lotta established klemmings ostron, sharing the family fishing boat and boathouse. Eight years later, his business has supplied restaurants like the Michelin-starred Adam & Albin in Stockholm and the legendary Noma in Copenhagen. “I scuba dive and everything is done by hand, oyster by oyster. I collect them in a large basket that I carry on my left arm,” she says. “Oysters are wild and machines are not allowed. We follow the daylight, leave around 10am, dive for oysters until 2pm, and then come back to clean and pack them.”

There have been many emotions around the campfire; things come to the surface of the past

It’s a tough work environment. It works all year in sea temperatures that vary from 0ºC to 16ºC and collects between 400 and 700 oysters per day. Although he got his scuba certificate when he was 12, it took him nearly 15 years before he realized it could be a real profession: “My father was an amateur bodybuilder, so I always associated diving with a different physique than mine. . Like most other parents, I was busy with work and his own interests, and my only way to hang out with him was to tag along when he went diving on the weekends.”

When Klemming first tried oyster diving at age 20, he found it “disappointing.” His equipment was leaking and the ocean view was limited. “Seven years later I tried again with a new team and a different determination and focus. Suddenly, I was in heaven.”

Their main focus is the Pacific oyster gigas, an invasive species that started showing up off the Swedish coast around 2007 (thought to come from farms further down the North Sea). The gigas and the native Swedish oyster live at different depths: the gigas between one and three meters deep; and the Swedish oyster between three and 10. The wild population of gigas in the Bohuslän region is estimated to range between 110,000 and 280,000 tonnes. Lotta Klemming believes they may be a sustainable answer both underwater and on our plates: “Giga oysters survive better in higher ocean temperatures than we now see in this region due to climate change.” But will this have an impact beyond fine dining? “In Sweden we eat less than one oyster per person per year. It is associated with top hats and evening dresses, festive occasions in high society, but it is also a nutritious food. With more knowledge about how to prepare and cook them, I think it can be eaten outside of fine dining,” says Klemming.

As part of her business, Lotta Klemming organizes oyster safaris in the archipelago. Guests, some oyster fanatics, some adventurers, visit oyster banks, learn about the industry, and fish for their own. These gastronomic and natural experiences range from half-day courses to weekend dinners and overnight stays at a local hotel. “The purpose is to share my knowledge about oysters and our work: this is a relatively new food for many Swedes.”

Often guests end up experiencing something different than they imagined. “We make lunch and very often the conversation ends up being about something deeper in family history. I have learned that something happens to people in these situations. They put their faith in my hands and are trapped on a secluded island. Also, when the Swedes drink two glasses of wine they start to talk. There have been many emotions around the campfire; things surface from the family past. I am speechless: what just happened here?

Catching oysters as therapy is an interesting idea. But Klemming is a passionate advocate of its mental health benefits. “When I’m vulnerable and talk about my story, people tend to open up,” he says. “I had a difficult childhood and was bullied at school. I developed a psychiatric illness and almost died a couple of times from it. This profession has healed me in all kinds of ways.”

Klemming has big plans for Klemmings Ostron: a hotel, restaurant and headquarters in the archipelago. “We have reached our limit and we need a roof over our heads to continue growing. There are a lot of old warehouses and fishing shacks around here that are empty, just wasted. So right now we are fighting with the landlords and the municipality to find our own place. In Sweden there are hardly any property taxes, so people just hold on to their real estate.” She adjusts the straps of her jumpsuit and looks into the distance. There is no doubt that his elbows are at least sharp enough to fulfill this dream. “The ocean has given meaning to my life. I’m good at what I do. I feel pride for the first time in my life, ”she concludes. “Am at home.”