Less Gear, More Intent: My Philosophy of Minimalist Diving

Disclosure: This is an independent account of equipment I use or have used. I work in the diving industry and sell some of the brands or products mentioned, but I am not paid or sponsored to promote them and none of the equipment discussed here was supplied to me free. My preferences are personal conclusions from use, not universal buying advice.

Safety note: Equipment articles cannot replace formal scuba or technical-diving training, a manufacturer manual, a gas plan or a dive plan. Configuration choices must make sense for the diver, environment, team and training involved.

Minimalism as a method, not an aesthetic.

Minimalism as a method, not an aesthetic. Over time I have become less interested in owning more equipment and more interested in understanding why a specific object deserves to be in the water with me.

The question behind the gear

Minimalism in diving should increase clarity, not become another ideology. Modern sidemount rigging, compact lights and modular hardware make it possible to simplify without becoming fragile.

The goal is not the fewest possible objects; the goal is the fewest objects required for the planned dive and its credible failures. When equipment disappears into the configuration, attention returns to buoyancy, team, environment and gas.

The practical point

That is the thread running through this entire series: verify, simplify and keep changing your mind when better evidence or better experience gives you a reason.

Minimalism is a workload decision

For me “less gear” is not an aesthetic contest. It means fewer hoses to manage, fewer objects to snag, fewer batteries to charge, fewer things to forget and fewer movements required to retrieve information. The cleanest example is my current sidemount pressure system: the primary information moved to the wrist through transmitters while tiny mechanical gauges remain at the cylinders.

I am happy to carry something bulky when the dive earns it. A dual-light video rig is absolutely not minimalist in isolation, but it is appropriate when the objective of the dive is higher-quality footage. Minimalism is therefore not “take little.” It is “take no equipment without a reason.”

The decision comes before the object

The easiest way to accumulate bad equipment is to start with the product instead of the problem. My order is the opposite: what is the dive, what can realistically go wrong, what information or capability do I need, and only then what item earns a place on the configuration? That is why my equipment changes between a simple recreational shore dive, a teaching day, a sidemount wreck dive and a planned technical dive. The equipment is not my identity; it is a set of tools chosen for a mission.

This is also why I am suspicious of the idea that carrying more automatically means being safer. Every extra item has a cost in drag, snag potential, preparation, maintenance and attention. Redundancy matters, but good redundancy is deliberate. Two independent pressure indications can solve a specific failure. Three random accessories hanging from D-rings do not automatically solve anything.

Experience should make the system simpler

Many of my present choices came from earlier mistakes. I once bought almost a complete set of equipment immediately after Open Water and discovered very quickly that buying before understanding creates expensive lessons. I bought INT/Yoke regulators when DIN would have suited the direction my diving took. I chose masks because they looked good before learning how much fit changes after several dives a day. I bought BCDs that I later disliked. Those mistakes were not wasted money if I remember what they taught me.

After enough repetition, the interesting question becomes less “what can I add?” and more “what can I remove without losing a capability I genuinely need?” That is the principle behind my current sidemount rig, my lighting choices, the way I decide whether a compass or camera comes with me, and even the two plastic boxes I use to transport and rinse equipment.

Evidence, preference and honesty

I am comfortable saying that I love a piece of equipment. I am equally comfortable saying that part of the reason may be completely personal—lime green makes me happy. The important thing is not to turn preference into physics. When a technical claim matters, I want it checked against current manufacturer documentation, training material or good safety evidence. When it is simply my experience, I say so.

The same applies to instruction. I want divers to verify what they are taught rather than treating the instructor as an oracle. Procedures evolve. Equipment evolves. Evidence can overturn old habits. A good diver should be able to explain why a procedure exists and know when the answer comes from a manual, an incident analysis, a manufacturer limitation or personal preference.

A useful test before buying anything

I ask three questions: what problem am I solving, what new failure or maintenance burden does the solution introduce, and will I still want this item after the novelty has disappeared? If I cannot answer those questions, I probably need more dives or more research before I need a credit card. That test has saved me from repeating some of my earliest equipment mistakes.