Diver Post #6
A ode to a Valentine, sharing some love and some links.
Hello reader, deep diver,
Since my last post, Valentine’s Day has been and gone. To be honest, my partner and I rolled straight out of bed and onto our motorbikes before we’d even noticed the day. We don’t really observe these calendar reminders with gushing love hearts in our eyes. Our connection feels less like a card, a bunch of cut flowers, or a social media post, and more like diving into cold water, it is deliberate, bracing, and alive in ways that don’t photograph so well.
From the logbook
That’s not to say that a love shared at any time of the year doesn’t go down nicely. So I thought this week, I’d dedicate this post to sharing some thing I found in my dads diving log. An unsigned letter that reminded me, that love doesn’t always need a name, a day or an audience. It can simply exist quietly and be entirely for the one who holds it. It letter read:
2003
“dear John, my memories of our snatched moments together will always mean far more to me than any amount of treasure salvaged from the sea xx”
The note was sandwiched between the log pages of dive 316 and 317. Between these pages, my dad had taken two scuba dives in Dover, one to the shipwreck called The Queen (316), and the other, he calls The Destroyer (317), six miles off the coast of Dunkerque. Between the dates in this book, he had taken my brother and I to Bilbao by ship to visit the Guggenheim Museum, and there we celebrated his 43rd birthday.
Yet, there was no clue as to who may have sent the letter, how it arrived and by what means, was it a Valentine’s arrival in the middle of August? Had he received it earlier in the year and carried it with him until it finally settled in the logs in August? There’s something thrilling in the unknowing, that someone, somewhere, holds those memories. That love can arrive unannounced, unexpected, and without explanation. The letter, a short declaration, says enough; the blankness of the page holds the rest, leaving space for imagination, longing, and the quiet weight of what is felt but unsaid.
I suppose that’s what early-year reminders like Valentine’s Day point to: that love is as much a responsibility to give as it is a hope to receive. Sometimes love is unrequited, carried silently in the chest of one who never dares to speak it. Sometimes it is reciprocal, unfolding in steady, shared currents. And sometimes it is the kind of deep, bracing love that dives beyond the surface, that demands courage, attention, and presence and returns something entirely unexpected in its depths.
Every diver knows the thrill of searching for treasure beneath the waves, but love is heavier than treasure. Treasure can be carried in a chest, counted and weighed. Love sits in the chest too, carried in the body, in the heart. Yet treasure does not change as you hold it; love does. It transforms you, deepens you, and sometimes leaves you richer than anything you could ever surface with.
I think my finding of this letter, serves as a reminder that love can always be given, whether to yourself, to a person or to nature. Sometimes, noticing it, sharing it, or simply holding it, is enough.
My act of love to you my readers, is to share this documentary of the late Ray Ives shot by Danny Cooke. This kind of storytelling hugely inspired me when I was younger, I hope it inspires you too. Enjoy x
The archive
I’ve made some progress with helmet 6707, having managed to hook up an overseas call with Leslie Leaney last week. Leslie was incredibly generous with his time and insights. He confirmed the authenticity of helmet 6707, identifying it as one of the DIVCON integral canister helium re-circulator helmets. Numerous parts of the re-circulator system have been removed for 6707. Leslie does a far better job than I would at explaining this in his video.
I plan to share some photos in a future. Keep your eyes peeled! Here is one to whet your appetite.
This conversation has opened my eyes to the world of helium in diving, deep-sea exploration, the oil industry and the broader diving industry. I’m completely blown away by the lengths humans are willing to go, testing gas mixtures to reach and explore the ocean.
Field Notes - accompanying inspiration
Links related to helium diving The History of Oilfield Diving by Christopher Swann
The Journal of Diving History Issue 124
Here’s some weekend listening (I’ve not yet listened myself).. tell me what you think