I was living in Moscow, Russia and entering another bone-chilling winter where the weather was -40° F (which is also the same temperature in Celsius – it’s a number where the two meet…fun fact). Some expat friends who worked in the same building were also fed up with winter and we decided to go diving in Egypt’s Sharm el-Sheikh.
The diving there was spectacular, and I would give nearly anything to go there again, but that’s a different post.
What was inviting was what seems like bathtub warm waters of 84.4°. My first plunge into diving in water that was not the bracing 56° of Monterey, California, was nothing short of pure bliss. I was ferried out to the dive site like a right good princess. I flopped over the side of the boat and a deck crew helped me out of the water at the end. Why had I not done this kind of pampered diving sooner?
And the warmth. Oh. The warmth. I’ve always been one to complain about being cold. Even as a middle-aged woman, I should perpetually be complaining about being hot. But I’m not. Sure, I get the occasional hot flash, but honestly, I’m always cold. My car has the heated seats on all year round, even during Houston’s triple digit summer temps. I’m just always cold. I sleep with both a heated mattress and electric blanket which is used year-round.
Back to Egypt. It was marvelous diving in warm water. I thought, “Wow, if there were only some way I could have extra tanks so I could have two hour dives.” Our first dive wrapped up, I got on board the boat, peeled off my wetsuit and enjoyed the Arabian sun on my body with a gentle breeze.
We had lunch then headed to our next site. I then noticed something very clear on the second dive: I was cold! I mean, not Monterey cold, but this nagging feeling that I was surely no longer in bathtub warm water.
The physics of this is simple: water even slightly colder than your body temperature is going to sap your heat and take it away. Water is such a magical substance, and it can whisk away your energy 25 times faster than air can. A breeze has 1/25th the ability to zap your body heat than water. Water that is a glorious 84° is still 14.6° colder than my body heat. This explains why the ending of my dives is more closely related to my feeling cold than running out of air.
The good news is that you’re unlikely to become hypothermic diving in warm water conditions. For sure most people, unless they’re diving side mount or rebreather rigs, running out of air is going to happen before any severe stages of heat loss can occur.
Despite this, I want a dry suit even for my tropical climate dives. I’m even willing to bear the brunt of the taunting, teasing, and ribbing I’ll get from all my dive buddies. But honestly, I do not like the effects being even slightly cold has on me.
Are any of these signs and symptoms familiar to you?
- Sensation of drowsiness
- Confusion or disorientation
- Shivering
- Weakness
- Stiffness in the joints
- Pain or tingling in extremities
- Losing interest in the dive
- Just not caring about the great stuff you’re seeing because you’re too stinking COLD!
- Dreading getting out of your gear to feel surface air on your skin
I think for many women (and you too, gentlemen, I’m just thinking of my ladies) being able to dive dry allows us to retain more of our strength, stamina and energy to keep pace with our guy diver buddies. Honestly, I’m pretty strong and fit for my age and gender, but men simply are designed with more muscle mass and bone density. They’re brutes!
Dry diving means no more shivering between dives and me longing for the hot shower that awaits me later. I want to spend more time oohing and ahhing at creatures than daydreaming about being warm. A dry suit would give me this.
I really want to see if I can find a warm water dry suit. What are your thoughts? Share them with me.
