Sunday, August 3rd found me back at Lake Hydra—which, if you’ve been around long enough, you still reflexively call Dutch Springs (and probably always will, no matter what the sign says). I don’t get up there as much since the ownership change, but seeing those rickety platforms felt like running into an old dive buddy you haven’t seen in years. Familiar. A little creaky. Still smells like neoprene.
This wasn’t just any drysuit class, though. My students are gearing up for Silfra in Iceland, where they’ll get to float between tectonic plates and literally high-five two continents at once. If that doesn’t make your logbook sexy, I don’t know what will.
Hydra rolled out the red carpet in its own special way: cold enough at depth to make your teeth tap out Morse code and visibility that was basically the lovechild of Yoo-hoo and pond scum. Seriously—there were moments I could’ve lost a student at arm’s length and had to rely on the sound of their bubbles like underwater echolocation.
But here’s the thing—that’s perfect training. You don’t master a drysuit in a pool where you can see the lifeguard’s toenail polish from across the lane. You learn it in the muck, where your buoyancy shifts, your squeeze gets real, and you figure out how to stay calm while the quarry does its best impression of Willy Wonka’s factory outflow.
And my crew? Absolute rock stars. They laughed, they shivered, they surfaced with big grins and bigger confidence. Watching that click into place—that moment where divers realize, “Oh yeah, I got this”—that’s why I keep teaching. Even when my toes are frozen into little dive-boot popsicles.
So yeah, visibility was trash, the water was freezing, and I loved every second of it. Because days like that? They remind me that scuba isn’t about perfect conditions—it’s about good people, shared laughs, and prepping for adventures that make you feel alive.
Dreaming about your own bucket-list dive? Maybe touching tectonic plates in Iceland, or just wanting to stop feeling like a marshmallow every time you zip into a drysuit?
Well guess what—DWF’s got a drysuit with YOUR name on it. We’ll get you trained, laughing, and ready to take on cold water like it’s your new favorite cocktail.
Don’t wait until Iceland freezes your fins off. Let’s do this.