For all my macho-posturing and acerbic commentary on SB, I am; unashamedly a warm-water wimp. I've clocked up well over 2000 dives in a fraction under 10 years of diving, but since leaving Australia I could count the dives in Sub-20 degree C on one hand (and a foot or two ).
That was until this year. This year I experienced my first dive where the temperature ran to a single digit, this year I purchased probably the single most expensive piece of kit I have ever shelled out for. This year I dive dry... well a little damp really, but I have a good undersuit.
Coming from the Tropical climes of the coral seas to the harsh reality of diving of the English coast is an interesting one. Those emerald waters, the astonishing (-ly bad) viz, the PITA tide times and that curious pain in your face as you descend and slowly acclimatise to the cold waters, all part of learning in the great scheme of SCUBA.
However it is the battle with the drybag that has been the most taxing part of this sub-temperate dive world. The strange sausage-like constriction (often unpleasant) that occurs when you fail to equalize your drysuit periodically on descent. The fact that every movement seems like a slow-motion version when compared to the Ursain Bolt movement of diving in boardies, and, of course the awful realisation that just a little too much gas has just migrated to your boots and will punish you severely if you think about changing camera position for that huge spider-crab.
You somehow feel completely unconnected to your dive equipment, casual reaches for SPG's end up swiping empty water, as your waistline is now artificial expanded and that bolt-snap slightly further back than you assumed. 5mm gloves make handling anything feel odd (So much so that since the water has reached 15 degrees C I have shunned them)
Let's not forget the ascents, those humorous moments when you momentarily forget to open your exhaust valve and that gas, - which didn't really take off the squeeze at depth - expands and is suddenly immense; with a powerful urge to polaris you to the surface. This combined with the fact that I'm still a notorious under-weighter.
Well after 30 odd dives fighting this beast, I feel that I am beginning to understand it and best it.
All I really have to say is thank f**k I didn't have to take my OW in one!
That was until this year. This year I experienced my first dive where the temperature ran to a single digit, this year I purchased probably the single most expensive piece of kit I have ever shelled out for. This year I dive dry... well a little damp really, but I have a good undersuit.
Coming from the Tropical climes of the coral seas to the harsh reality of diving of the English coast is an interesting one. Those emerald waters, the astonishing (-ly bad) viz, the PITA tide times and that curious pain in your face as you descend and slowly acclimatise to the cold waters, all part of learning in the great scheme of SCUBA.
However it is the battle with the drybag that has been the most taxing part of this sub-temperate dive world. The strange sausage-like constriction (often unpleasant) that occurs when you fail to equalize your drysuit periodically on descent. The fact that every movement seems like a slow-motion version when compared to the Ursain Bolt movement of diving in boardies, and, of course the awful realisation that just a little too much gas has just migrated to your boots and will punish you severely if you think about changing camera position for that huge spider-crab.
You somehow feel completely unconnected to your dive equipment, casual reaches for SPG's end up swiping empty water, as your waistline is now artificial expanded and that bolt-snap slightly further back than you assumed. 5mm gloves make handling anything feel odd (So much so that since the water has reached 15 degrees C I have shunned them)
Let's not forget the ascents, those humorous moments when you momentarily forget to open your exhaust valve and that gas, - which didn't really take off the squeeze at depth - expands and is suddenly immense; with a powerful urge to polaris you to the surface. This combined with the fact that I'm still a notorious under-weighter.
Well after 30 odd dives fighting this beast, I feel that I am beginning to understand it and best it.
All I really have to say is thank f**k I didn't have to take my OW in one!