Iceland Day Two: Dry Suit Diving

I know what you're thinking.  You're a SCUBA diver.  Why not try diving with a dry suit?

I tell you now:  don't do it.

Yep, you're still thinking about it.  I tell you again:  don't do it.

Don't even give me that.  It doesn't matter than your father and I are middle-aged, and you are young bucks and does.  Don't do it.

I have birthed four behemoth children.  I have run and finished two complete marathons.  But what I did today puts those other challenges to shame.

I have never, ever, done anything has physically hard as what I did today.  I could birth four children at the same time while running two whole marathons, and it would be easier than dry suit diving.

And from what I hear, I'm not alone.  According to our divemaster, pretty much everyone hates it the first time.

Glad that was mentioned on the website.  NOT!

When I was looking for things to do here in Iceland, imagine my surprise when I saw SCUBA diving as one of the top-rated activities.  And not just a top rated activity, but the Silfra dive is listed as one of the top ten dives to do in the world.  No self-respecting Kennedy would pass up that opportunity.

Just one little problem.  Silfra is a fresh-water lake, created from the run-off of a nearby glacier.  Yep, a glacier.  You know, those frozen ice things.  So the water is a balmy 46 degrees (F) year round.  Just to put this in perspective, people freeze in that temperature in ten minutes.  Like, they die.

So, some crazy person at some point in earth's recent history decided that there needed to be a way for unsuspecting divers like me to still dive in that kind of water.  If I was a swearer (and believe me, more than one curse word went through my head today), I would appropriately say at this point, "Children who are born from unmarried parents."  Get it?  Yeah.

And the dry suit was invented.  A suit that fills up with gas that keeps you warm-ER while diving.  I can't say warm, because the suit obviously doesn't cover hands, or your freaking face, but the core of your body does stay dry.  And thankfully we're allowed to wear things like long underwear, and fleeces and wool socks underneath them.

I've always thought that diving is a pretty high maintenance sport simply because of all the gear involved.  Little did I know though that there could be more.  Like, a LOT more.

Let's start with our base layer.  Underwear.  I won't lie.  It was kind of nice to wear a good supportive bra while swimming.  Sorry to gross out anyone, but for us large chested women, it felt better having the sisters in their respective places.

Next came the long underwear.  I only own one pair, and they are cream-colored silk underwear from Eddie Bauer.

Then regular socks.  Followed by a long pair of wool socks.  The socks were provided by the dive shop.  I don't know who has worn those, or where they've been, but I put those babies on like they were the last pair in the world.

Then some kind of official over layer.  This is provided by the SCUBA shop.  You know those ski
suits that mothers zip their kids into for five minutes of sledding?  Exactly the same, but adult size.  Okay, maybe they aren't covered in cute designs, but trust me, the black color doesn't hide the poofiness of the suit.  Plus, there's a big thick zipper that runs from your crotch up to your collar.  And there's elastic around the wrists and ankles.  The best part?  You get to tuck the bottoms into your wool socks.  Now THAT'S a look!

At this point, you have to excuse yourself to find a cup of water, because you've already sweat a gallon.

You know how those kids can't move once they're in the snowsuits?  Turns out that it's not much different for adults.  And it just gets worse.

Next is the dry suit itself.  Imagine the space suits that the astronauts wear.  That's what it is, but it's black and not white.  It has all kinds of zippers and places for hoses and latex wrist bands and even a latex neck band, all serving the same purpose:  to keep the water out of the suit.

The suit itself weighs about ten pounds.  At least three of those pounds come in the form of attached rubber boots.  Yep ladies, you can throw your vanity out the door, because you've now become the ugliest thing on the planet.  Hmmmm, maybe that's why the astronauts head into space....

And just when you think it can't get any worse, you're presented with a neoprene hood that took out at least 10,000 hairs on my head. And yes, John's face says it all.  That really IS how you feel in it.

And two neoprene gloves, although they're really three fingered mittens.  Yep, a thumb, a pointer finger, and the rest globbed together.  Seriously, my hands looked like they belonged to the creature from the blue lagoon.  Oh wait, that was yesterday when I was soaking in a natural spring hot tub....that was 104 degrees...and blue and pretty...



And just to add insult to injury, your normal weights for scuba diving are like quadrupled.  I usually dive with 14 pounds, but with a dry suit, I take FORTY!   Where do all those weights go?  In a harness that goes over the underwear, the over layer, and the dry suit.  A harness, complete with shoulder straps and a waist strap.  Yep, sled dogs, watch out....

Finally, the BCD.  For both John and me, we needed each other to even get the stupid thing on, because it isn't hard enough in the Caribbean.

The fins and the mask?  They don't go on until you're in the water, and because you basically can't bend or move, you lay on your back and let someone else put them on your floating feet boots. And I never put my mask on myself because I couldn't lift my stupid arms over my head.

I have serious sympathy for every small child now....

Meanwhile, the cold water....

Let's take a moment here.  Just think about 46 degree water. That's only 14 degrees warmer than an ice cube, and I'm laying on my back, having my fins put on?

This begs the question:  why?????

Because we were taking the certification course, we had to certify away from the Silfra glacial lake, and instead started out in a nearby lake.  And finally a blessing in this mess:  we were told the lake is WARMER!  Yep, all of 52 degrees...

Remember, kids, good ol' Mount Storm?  Remember those slippery boulders from the shore into the lake?  It must be something with cold lakes, because this crazy place had the exact same thing.  And trust me, my rubber boots weren't exactly sized for me, so it was like walking on marbles in clown shoes.

You don't know the number of people who drove up to the shore while we were attempting to get in the water and started asking us about the craziness.  People were even taking pictures of us!  I finally took advantage of the humiliation and asked a cute little Chinese girl to email me the photos of us.  Nothing like standing in near freezing water, spelling out my ridiculously long email address to someone who doesn't speak very good English...

She was a champ though and got the pictures to me.  #priceless

The visibility underneath the water, while good, was quickly destroyed by our inability to do anything.  Yeah, those 100 dives I've already completed?  I may as well have been diving for the first time.  Two buoyancy control devices (a BCD and a dry suit) are supposed to work in tandem to provide the optimal experience.  Too bad both have purge valves, and the one on the dry suit is automatic.  So, anytime I lifted my left arm to purge my BCD, it would also automatically purge my dry suit.  Again, I don't know what sadistic b**** designed that plan, but I would like to latex neck ring his neck!

It was insane.  We had a couple of simple tasks to complete our certification--stuff that we could have done in seconds in the Caribbean--and they were impossible.  For instance, we had to show that we could disconnect and reconnect a hose to our dry suit.  The connection point sits right in the middle of our chest on the suit (Ironman style).  Two problems:  you can't bend your neck far enough down to even see what you're doing because you have so much crap on your head, and you're asked to do it all with nice thick gloves on.  It makes me think of a camel trying to thread a needle with a steel cable.  Those hooves aren't going to be any help.

At one point, I could not hover to save my life.  Seriously, all I had to do was hover for a minute--I could hover for an entire dive in the Caribbean if need be--but I couldn't control my buoyancy.  Our divemaster told me to surface.  After removing my regulator and drinking in half the lake (it was clean and tasty by the way), I was told that some people just aren't physically made to dive with a dry suit.

Yep, he was looking at me, seeing as no one else was crazy enough to be swimming with the Icelandic Loch Ness that day.

At this point, John popped up.  I told him that I couldn't do it (although not because of any doubt in myself, but because of the professional having lost all faith in me).   John strong-armed both of us into heading down again.

And boy was I thankful, because gosh darn it, I didn't pay 50 million Icelandic Krona to find out that I can't do something.

With John's voice in my head, I powered through.

I have never said "Thank God", but I did today, because I don't believe there was anyone who deserved more credit for me finishing.

You would think that little adventure would be enough, except that I had to get back OUT of the lake.  Remember those boulders?  And the 70 pounds on my back?  John told me to stay in the 46 degree water, and he would be back for me, but I didn't listen.  And two minutes later, I slipped and fell and ended up on my back.  Like a bug.  With my legs in the air.  And I couldn't get up.  I just laid there until John could come over and pick me up.

By the time I finally got back to the van, our divemaster Kuba, a young Polish guy, had the hot chocolate steaming.  When he asked me how it was, I told him that I hated it.  Like really really HATED it.  And he told me that I was not alone.

Good to know.

And as long as I'd come this far, I wasn't going to miss Silfra, the actual glacial lake that is one of the top ten dive sites in the world. Bring it on, BABY!

We peeled everything off, drove 1/4 mile, and put it all on again.  We then had to walk 100m (yes, everything is in meters here, and the pressure gauge is in bars)...with our equipment on.  I've never been so happy to be in 46 degree water just for the sake of my equipment being light.

And we dived for 30 minutes.  We dived between the two tectonic plates:  the North American tectonic plate and the Eurasian tectonic plate.  At one point, you can actually touch both of them at the same time.  Cool.  Was it worth it?  I don't know.

And here's where the test of all things difficult comes into my life.

It was 400m back to the car.  And we had to walk it back with all of our equipment.  There were times I thought my legs were going to just give out, and believe me, I had to stop every few feet so that my legs wouldn't collapse.  But when Kuba and John both came back for me, I sent them away, telling them to get the camera ready.

Because, gosh darn it, you better believe that if I did this, I'm finishing it myself and getting a picture.

And I did.  And nothing made me happier, despite sinus pain (that neoprene hood was a bear to get on and off), headaches and a back ache to last a year.

This is me, walking with 70 pounds of equipment on.  It took me so long to walk those 400 meters, and there really were times I thought my legs were just going to collapse underneath me.

Best picture of the trip!

John was telling me to turn around and show how much equipment was on my back.  My face says it all..."are you freaking kidding me?"  But I did it.

I was chatty Cathy afterwards.  There really is a high in doing something that is so insanely difficult.  And you'll notice that while I've peeled off every spare pound I can, Kuba is still wearing his entire dry suit....and mixing hot chocolate.

But believe me, you can find a million other things to give you this kind of happiness, so don't you even think about trying this.  Just like drugs, just say "NO"!