Better diving through simplicity

Benjamin Hadfield   May 12, 2026

The Ocean Will Be There Tomorrow

By Benjamin Hadfield, Technical Instructor Trainer

One of the biggest mistakes I see in newer divers is not a lack of courage. It’s the exact opposite.

It’s ambition without patience.

A diver gets a few good dives under their belt and suddenly decides that this is the dive where they’re going to hunt lionfish, look for lobster, carry a gun, bring a pole spear, clip on a pony bottle, drag a zookeeper, and take underwater photos like they’re filming a nature documentary for Netflix.

That is not a dive plan.
That is a yard sale with fins.

And the root of it is usually the same: scarcity.

A lot of divers act like if they don’t do absolutely everything on this dive, they’ve missed their chance. But the truth is simple, and I’ve said it a thousand times:

The ocean will be there tomorrow.

That mindset alone will make you a better diver.

Pick a lane

Early in your diving career, you do not need to be good at everything all at once. You need to become good at one thing at a time.

Want to work on hunting lionfish? Great. Make that the dive.

Want to focus on lobster? Fine. Make that the dive.

Want to shoot photos? Excellent. Then let that be the dive.

Want to practice buoyancy, awareness, and moving cleanly over a reef? That is the smartest dive of all.

What gets divers in trouble is trying to stack tasks before they have the experience to manage them well. The result is predictable: bad trim, poor situational awareness, wasted gas, missed targets, dangling gear, reef contact, and a diver who looks busy but accomplishes less.

I’ve watched this play out more times than I can count. One diver hits the water carrying enough gear to invade a small country. Pole spear dangling from a D-Ring, gun in hand, camera clipped somewhere questionable, zookeeper hanging like a sea anchor, a pony bottle bouncing around like an uninvited toddler, and finning like they are a prize horse at the Kentucky Derby. Ten minutes later, they’ve seen almost nothing, burned through half a tank, and spent most of the dive sorting themselves out.

Meanwhile, the calm diver with one clear objective and a clean setup is quietly doing work.

That’s not luck.
That’s discipline.

Streamlining is not cosmetic. It is performance.

Let me be blunt: if your gear is dangling, dragging, flopping, or hanging off you like Christmas decorations, you are not streamlined.

And if you are not streamlined, you are less efficient, less observant, and more likely to damage the reef or snag something you didn’t mean to snag.

This is not just an opinion. Responsible diving guidance from NOAA and Green Fins emphasizes securing all equipment and keeping hoses, gauges, and accessories tucked in so they do not contact the reef. SDI guidance also notes that dangling gear increases drag, reef contact, and entanglement risk, while poor streamlining can raise air consumption because you work harder to move through the water.

Here’s the rule I teach:

Everything needs a home.

If you carry it, it should be secured tightly and intentionally.

That means:

• Gauges clipped in, not swinging.

• Alternate air source secured.

• Camera on a short, controlled attachment when not in use.

• Zookeeper tight against the body, not trailing behind like a parade float.

• Accessories stowed so they don’t bump the reef, catch current, or distract you.

• And for the love of all things salty, pick either the pole spear or the gun. Carrying both is usually a sign that the dive plan has already gotten away from you.

I see divers try to carry a pole spear and a speargun on the same dive all the time. What usually happens? The pole spear starts dragging the reef. Or it gets parked somewhere thoughtlessly while the diver fiddles with the gun. Or the diver spends so much attention managing gear that they stop actually diving well.

Same story with a zookeeper. If it hangs low and swings, it becomes a drag device, a snag hazard, and a reef-raking idiot stick all at once.

Clean divers move better.
Clean divers breathe better.
Clean divers see more.
Clean divers break less.

That is not style. That is survival with manners.

Protect the reef like you plan to come back

Here’s another piece of straight talk:

Never use your pole spear as a walking stick.

Not on the reef. Not on hardbottom. And not jabbed into sand next to reef structure like you’re planting a fence post.

NOAA guidance is clear that even minor contact from hands, fins, or gear can damage corals, and stirred-up sediment can smother them. NOAA also advises maintaining proper buoyancy, a horizontal posture, and ensuring all equipment stays secure and off the reef.

A reef is not a staircase.
The bottom is not your tripod.
And your spear is not a cane.

Using a pole spear as a prop tells me one of three things is happening:

1. Your buoyancy needs work.

2. Your workload is too high.

3. Your focus is in the wrong place.

Sometimes it’s all three.

And the hazard is bigger than just coral damage.

When things dangle, drag, or get planted where they shouldn’t, you create:

• Reef damage from direct contact

• Entanglement risk from lines, gear, lobster structure, or reef features

• Loss of efficiency from extra drag and task loading

• Reduced awareness because your attention shifts from the environment to your own mess

That last one matters. A messy diver is often a mentally overloaded diver. Once your brain is busy managing your own clutter, you stop noticing current shifts, buddy position, gas use, marine life, and little problems before they become big ones.

And that is how “just a little sloppy” becomes “why did that dive go sideways?”

Slow down and actually look

This may be the most important hunting advice I can give, and it has nothing to do with shooting.

Slow down.

I see divers blow past lobster, lionfish, hogfish, and all kinds of life because they are moving too fast and looking too narrowly. They are in such a hurry to “find something” that they stop actually seeing what is there.

The best hunters I know do not look frantic. They look almost lazy.

They move slowly.
They scan back and forth.
They check ledges, holes, shadows, and little changes in shape.
They let the reef reveal itself.

That produces better results than sprinting down the reef like you’re late for boarding.

And it is more efficient. SDI’s air-consumption guidance specifically recommends slowing down, relaxing, and avoiding darting around, and it notes that poor streamlining increases drag and air use.

I’ve seen it countless times: one diver covers a ton of ground fast and sees almost nothing. Another diver covers half as much reef, but actually studies it, and comes back with better sightings and better opportunities.

The ocean is full of details. If you rush, you miss them.

Lionfish tucked just under a lip.
A lobster antenna barely showing from a crack.
A hogfish that lets you close distance because you weren’t charging like a maniac.

Hunting should not be treated like cardio with bad decisions attached.

About gas loading, stress, and “Henry’s law.”

This is where I want to be careful and accurate.

Henry’s law, in diving terms, is about inert gas dissolving into your tissues under pressure. NOAA teaching materials define it as gas dissolving in a liquid as a function of the gas’s partial pressure, and DAN notes that inert gas dissolves into tissues and can reach saturation at depth.

So no, Henry’s law does not mean that “agitation” by itself magically stuffs extra nitrogen into you.

But here’s the practical point that absolutely matters: hard work during the descent and bottom phase of a dive increases inert gas uptake and raises decompression stress. DAN states this plainly, and also warns that exertion near the end of or right after a dive can increase bubble-related risk.

In regular English: if you turn every dive into an underwater sprint, you are stacking the deck against yourself.

You burn more gas.
You elevate stress.
You make worse decisions.
And from a decompression standpoint, you are not doing yourself any favors.

So when I tell divers not to thrash around the reef like they’re late to a Black Friday sale, I’m not just asking for elegance. I’m asking for good judgment.

A story I’ve seen too many times

I’ve seen some version of this over and over:

A newer diver gets excited. They want lionfish, lobster, photos, and a backup bottle because they heard someone call it an “oh shit bottle” and decided more equipment must equal more safety. They enter the water already task-loaded. Five minutes in, the current feels stronger than expected. The gun is in one hand, the spear is awkward in the other, the zookeeper is trailing, the camera is bouncing, and now they’re fiddling with clips instead of watching the reef.

They are technically underwater.
But they are not really diving well.

Then you watch an experienced diver on the same site. Clean profile. One purpose. Nothing dangling. Deliberate movement. Head on a swivel. Calm breathing. Good trim. No drama.

Guess which diver usually sees more and comes back with more to show for the dive?

The answer is almost never the guy dressed like an underwater pawn shop.

The best divers are usually the least theatrical

There’s a lesson in that.

The best divers I know are rarely the busiest-looking divers in the water. They are usually the simplest.

They are not trying to impress the reef.
They are not trying to win the dive.
They are not trying to cram six hobbies into forty minutes.

They know what the mission is.
They know where their gear is.
They know what they are not doing on that dive.

That is maturity underwater.

And new divers need to hear this: there is no shame in doing less.

In fact, doing less—on purpose—is often exactly how you become capable of doing more later.

Final thought: do one thing well

If you remember one line from this whole article, let it be this:

Do one thing at a time, and do it well.

Want to become a better hunter? First become a better diver.
Want to take better photos? First become a more stable diver.
Want to carry more equipment? First prove you can manage less equipment properly.
Want to be safer? Start by being cleaner, calmer, and less cluttered.

The ocean does not reward hurry.
It rewards awareness.

And the beautiful part is, there is no need to force it all into one dive.

Because the ocean will be there tomorrow.