Great Lakes - Lessons From Under the Ice
For some, the idea of diving the frigid waters of the Great Lakes in winter on a single breath might not be very alluring. But for others, this ice-topped wonderland provides a sanctuary for meditation and exploration. In Issue 13 of Oceanographic, Geoff Coombs takes us on a dream-like journey beneath the frozen waters of Lake Huron.
I stare at the horizon and admire the vast expanse of white that covers Lake Huron, one of the five Great Lakes. Distant islands seem frozen in time, and the dampened sound from snow creates a silent atmosphere. Andrew and I begin taking turns with the auger, drilling through the ice to form our entrance to the waters below. The whole process takes immense effort but has the positive side effect of increasing our body temperature.
The cold water slowly penetrates as I hop in. The exposed skin on my face stings for the first few minutes. Maintaining a steady breath through my snorkel while looking at the deep blue depths below is key to staying calm. The ability to control the mind and breath is paramount to staying calm and adapting to extreme temperatures.
As I float in the opening, I tell my ice diving partner, Andrew Ryzebol, to wait for me on the surface as I descend on a single breath. Once I catch his eye from the depths, he should dive. The underwater currents are negligible – how far we drift is up to us.
I take my last breath, close my eyes and dive down into the cold abyss. I feel my wetsuit constrict as the water pressure around me increases. All the air pockets in my 7mm suit are compressed and the cold begins to set in. The frozen ceiling of ice above me falls away. When I reach around 30 feet, I feel neutral buoyancy take hold and shortly thereafter my body sinks effortlessly. A strange mix of calm and anxiety bubbles up when I am drawn into the cold depths. The kaleidoscope of patterns in the jagged ice envelope me as I look up from the depths below. The discomfort fades for a few brief moments, and the scale of the alien world takes shape. Moody shades of indigo give way to steel-hued cerulean, undulating in the pale light from above. When viewed from underwater, the ice can change dramatically from day to day depending on the weather. Strong winds and cold temperatures will force the ice to build in layers, forming sharp edges and large underwater icebergs. But when the wind is calm, the water freezes in smoother patterns. The ever-changing views and aesthetics of the ice forces me to be adaptable to find new ways to capture it.
Andrew dives. I rise slowly to meet him, camera lifted. He looks like an astronaut drifting above an icy planet. For a moment, I forget that this isn’t the case. A warm beam of light shimmers through the water from our hole in the ice above. A sense of peace and a need for air intertwine, so I allow buoyancy to carry me to the surface. I take a breath and put my snorkel back in my mouth to look down at Andrew and spot him rising up. We will repeat this for as long as we can endure.