Mission Before Equipment: Why I Never Dive Like a Christmas Tree

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.

Why I deliberately leave unnecessary equipment out of the water.

Why I deliberately leave unnecessary equipment out of the water. 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

I dislike the 'Christmas tree' approach: carrying every accessory simply because it might be useful. The plan should determine the tools. If navigation is trivial, a compass may stay out. If there is no darkness or overhead environment, a large light may stay out.

This is not about removing safety-critical redundancy. It is about distinguishing real requirements from habit and anxiety. Fewer dangling objects can mean less drag, less entanglement and less cognitive clutter.

The discipline is to ask, before every dive: what job will this object do today?

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.

Why I dislike “just in case” equipment

I sometimes describe overloaded divers as Christmas trees: everything they own is clipped somewhere because it might become useful. That is not how I want to dive. If the route does not require a compass, I may leave it out. If there is no darkness, overhead section or inspection task, I do not automatically carry a large light. If I am not filming, the camera stays dry. The mission decides the equipment.

This is not an argument against redundancy. It is an argument for naming the failure that each redundant item is meant to cover. Two independent gas supplies in sidemount solve a real problem. A backup pressure indication solves another. An extra random bolt snap solves nothing unless it has a defined role.

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.

There is a related decision-making problem with safety equipment: research can become counterproductive if the useful device never makes it onto the dive. I explore that in The Safety Equipment You’re Still Researching Won’t Save You.