Everything tends toward entropy, and my beloved (and expensive) Poseidon dry suit was not exempt from the Second Law of Thermodynamics. After cutting off the pockets, I tossed the suit ceremoniously into the trash can and hauled it to the curb.

With the economic downturn, I had to turn to whatever rubber I had around the garage: I could not afford to cough up two grand for another Poseidon, DUI, Armani or Gucci Dry Suit.

I dug out my cracking, ten-year old 3 mm open water wet suit, swept out a Recluse spider, put on a hooded vest underneath it, added another hood, and sank down into the Devil's Ear like a rock. The goal was to swim the Roller Coaster circuit for a total dive time of one hour without shivering in status epilepticus by the time I returned to the tree trunk in the Ear.

Mission not only accomplished, but transcendental: It was like discovering a new sport! The freedom of movement, the easier hydrodynamics (trim and buoyancy compensation), and the intimacy with the water, were things I had not experienced for several years, since before going to a dry suit. Plus, the simplicity: elimination of a hose, no pee valve, no condom catheters, no rotting seals, no intake nor exhaust valves, no sticky zippers, nor bulky, smelly undergarments. No pomp and ceremony putting the damn thing on.

In the interests of full disclosure, if you are a big time cave diver, doing long dives with lengthy decompression obligations, this sermon is probably not for you. But, if you are a doofus cave diver like me, with ambitions limited to paddling around the cave closest to the exits for an hour or less of bottom time, you owe it to yourself to try the simple elegance of the wet suit solution. Try it, and let's hear back from you.

Post script: I will, however, miss going up to the counter at Ginnie Springs lodge to purchase a condom catheter, and the lady behind the counter asking me what size, and I answering "the Magnum XXXL, please."