We’re dropped at an iceberg which from the surface looks like it has a lot going on below. The rain is drizzling as we don our tanks, gear and masks, and roll back into the murky depths. The vis is alright, nothing to write home about, but no worse than the other day. The halocline is less than before, thanks to the rain, and the iceberg is an interesting one to dive. The thing that is the most remarkable though, is that I’m feeling much more comfortable in the water. I’m getting used to the extra weight, buoyancy, and my suit; and I’m acclimatising to the currents that move around the iceberg. To be honest, I barely feel the cold anymore. It’s a proud moment for me.

I’ve said it once, but I’ll say it again: the heated vest is a godsend, and so are the tubes Mike gave me for my dry gloves – now it’s my feet that get cold before anything else. I last 32 minutes on this dive, and when it’s time to go up, it’s largely because we’ve lapped the iceberg twice and I’m bored of shooting its walls of white. I want to see what’s in the top couple of metres and shoot some more split shots at the surface. They come out alright, but the grey, rainy shots don’t hit the same as the way the icebergs shine and shimmer on a sunny day.

We have pancakes for lunch which do, however, hit the spot. I’ve been smashing as many hot chocolates and Nutella sandwiches on the sly as I can because Kim – the camp manager – seems to guard the fridge with an iron will (and after too many meals of soup, the extra calories in these pancakes will not go amiss). Food has been a bit of a random one on this expedition, in that, there hasn’t always been enough of it at times. With polar diving, you’re constantly fighting cold so you’re burning a huge number of calories on each dive, not to mention the in-between hauling of tanks and kitting up on rocky slopes. I can tell that with some of the clients, food morale is taking a little hit. It’s still raining when we hit the water for the second dive. We’re diving close to camp in the bay, with two decently sized icebergs, and hoping that one of them is grounded. On this second dive, I know what I want shot-wise – I’m looking for the bottom kelp and the iceberg.

Sven is still resting his foot, so Kim shuttles us out in relay fashion. Me, Mike, and Chris are first and head straight to the only iceberg in the bay that’s still floating. Floating icebergs are the safer kind to dive. We drop down and I can’t see the bottom, despite the water only being around 20 metres deep here. I don’t know why I’m surprised really, because the vis isn’t amazing, so even if the bottom would be at 10m, it would still be unlikely we’d see anything at all. I’m enjoying the iceberg, feeling pretty comfy in my buoyancy and – in all honestly – after a week of icebergs floating in the bottomless deep, I’m itching to finish up on this iceberg so we can move further inshore and get some benthos in my shots.

A few minutes into the dive and something is very wrong. Mike waves to me, Chris is going up. I look confusedly towards Chris who is ascending already. Cold hands he signs back to me. I look at my watch. Almost 7 minutes. I know that Chris struggles with cold hands, but this is way below his threshold. Realising something is amiss, we all ascend together. On the surface, Chris is making his way onto the boat already. “I’m flooded,” he calls over to us. “Catastrophic flood. Started in my hand and thought I could push through. It’s now up to my shoulder. Game over for me.”

Seeing Chris is safely on the boat and headed back to camp, Mike and I duck back under, heading toward the kelp. With the tide out, we reach the kelp flat and I’m a little disappointed. With the tide going out, it’s a little silty and now in 3 metres of water, I’m not hugely fond of the shots I’m getting with such low vis and flat light. They feel like they don’t have the depth or the movement I want.

With the moody sky above, the silt and the dark green and browns, I can also already recognise that they won’t fit in with the selection I’ve already pinned in my mind for this photo story.

We look around for a wolf eel for a while but, to my dismay, don’t find one. It’s all the more disheartening, considering one of the guys just caught three for supper.

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