Let’s face it, there are many drawbacks of diving. The kit is a decent investment of cash, and the training is a decent investment of time. It’s heavy (only realise this now I’m no longer a sprightly, pneumatic-thighed young nimrod). And each dive – particularly on our sceptred isle – can be something of a lottery.
The Not-So-Glamorous Side of Diving
You simply can’t beat a four-hour drive, followed by an emotional overnight stay in ropey B&B, and then a dawn start on the hard boat, to duly encounter one metre vis and a bored wrasse. And then you do it all in reverse, to arrive back home thinking “I’m taking up baking, as you can do it all inside, and at least you have a warm bun at the end”.
Why We Get Past the Drawbacks of Diving
But here’s the rub. Diving can also deliver like very few other past-times. And when it does, it’s in a life-altering manner, giving you earth-shattering, epoch-defining, end-ofdays moments that act as sign posts for life. This may sound a bit histrionic, but think back to those days and those dives that were off-the-scale good – dives where you shook your head with wonder in the RIB, where a seal had nibbled the tips of your fins, or you’d drifted over the top of a wreck in crystal vis, or seen dolphins, or taken the image of your life.
The Dive That Divides a Life
I’ll do the quickest of summaries. Night, the surface of the water like molasses, a pool of light at the stern, torches placed on the seabed by the guides, and the dark silhouette of mantas pirouetting as they fed. Breathless anticipation, fumble-fingered donning of kit, sinking to the seabed only a few metres below, and then kneeling as the mantas wheeled inches overhead. And then she surfaced, dumbstruck, to go and sit alone, and sob at the absurdity and wonder of it all.
There’s a couple of points here. The first is that such dives have to be earned. Every scrabble around off a grim beach in marginal surf and zero vis is an investment. Poseidon takes note, nods approvingly, and moves your ledger one space closer to your epic encounter. Doing the hard yards is, in short, compulsory. The second point is that such dives can delineate a life, define a path, and divide your memories into two categories – ‘before’ and ‘after’. And my wee lass Isla had just such a moment in the Maldives.
When Words Aren’t Enough
At this point, I’m handing over this column to her. I asked her to pen a wee poem, knowing that this dive was important not just for her underwater development, but as an individual. This is what she wrote:
The amphitheatre of dusk, The spotlight of torches, The audience of sharks and wrasse, All victims of the ballet, dumbfounded, Wordless.
The sound of the sea, The grace of an angel, The warmth of the light in your hand. The sweep of a wing, Left me dumbfounded, Wordless.
The mutes of the blue, The echoes of the tide, The forgiveness and unbeknownst to them, Leaves us dumbfounded, Wordless.
The comfort of the white sand, and the discomfort of the dark, Woven strangely together, Like thunderclouds racing, Or rivers in the sky, Left them dumbfounded, Wordless.
Now whether being wordless was a choice, Or a symptom of the symphony, Of the shadows and light and dark and water, Of the child of them all, We don’t know. Whether the mantas got to our heads, And danced in our minds -I hope that always leaves us dumbfounded, Wordless.
The amphitheatre of dusk, The spotlight of torches, The audience of sharks and wrasse, All victims of the ballet, dumbfounded, Wordless.
The sound of the sea, The grace of an angel, The warmth of the light in your hand. The sweep of a wing, Left me dumbfounded, Wordless.
The mutes of the blue, The echoes of the tide, The forgiveness and unbeknownst to them, Leaves us dumbfounded, Wordless.
The comfort of the white sand, And the discomfort of the dark, Woven strangely together, Like thunderclouds racing, Or rivers in the sky, Left them dumbfounded, Wordless.
Now whether being wordless was a choice, Or a symptom of the symphony, Of the shadows and light and dark and water, Of the child of them all, We don’t know. Whether the mantas got to our heads, And danced in our minds -I hope that always leaves us dumbfounded, Wordless.
The amphitheatre of dusk, The spotlight of torches, The audience of sharks and wrasse, All victims of the ballet, dumbfounded, Wordless.
The sound of the sea, The grace of an angel, The warmth of the light in your hand. The sweep of a wing, Left me dumbfounded, Wordless.
The mutes of the blue, The echoes of the tide, The forgiveness and unbeknownst to them, Leaves us dumbfounded, Wordless.
The comfort of the white sand, and the discomfort of the dark, Woven strangely together, Like thunderclouds racing, Or rivers in the sky, Left them dumbfounded, Wordless.
Now whether being wordless was a choice, Or a symptom of the symphony, Of the shadows and light and dark and water, Of the child of them all, We don’t know. Whether the mantas got to our heads, and danced in our minds -I hope that always leaves us dumbfounded, Wordless.
Frequently Asked Questions
What are the main drawbacks of diving?
Diving demands time, money, effort, and physical endurance, often with no guarantee of good conditions or memorable encounters.
Why do divers keep diving despite the effort?
Because when it works, diving delivers rare, emotionally powerful moments that few other activities can match.
Do bad dives serve any purpose?
Yes. Tough, unglamorous dives are often the price paid for the rare, unforgettable experiences that follow.
Can a single dive really change someone?
Absolutely. Certain dives create “before and after” moments that shape confidence, perspective, and personal growth.
Why are shared diving experiences so meaningful?
Experiencing awe together—especially between generations—strengthens emotional bonds and creates lasting memories.
This article was originally published in Scuba Diver Magazine
Subscribe today with promo code DIVE1 — enjoy 12 months for just £1!
