Early in the dive, rather than scanning for marine life and turning my head in every direction as I usually do, I find myself overwhelmingly preoccupied with managing invisible pockets of air as I struggle to stay level.

“It’s like being in a skydiving position,” explains Fabiola Ruiz Aguilar, my drysuit instructor. “This position allows you to maintain control and manage the air in your suit so you stay neutrally buoyant.” In theory, it’s all very straightforward. In practice, maintaining the ideal skydiving motion is easier said than done.

I had met up with Ruiz Aguilar the previous day at a recreation centre in Burnaby, B.C., where she coached me through the process of assembling my gear and becoming comfortable with the cumbersome process of getting into a drysuit and entering the water — in this case the  predictably flat and warm indoor pool. I had completed the online understand-your-drysuit coursework beforehand, but theory only goes so far.

In a slightly surreal scene, I practiced adding and venting air, removing and replacing my tank and rehearsed what to do if air bunched up at my feet — all while swimmers doing lengths passed above us.

Today, feels very different. Now we’re in open water, descending into the cold Pacific on my first official drysuit dive in Canadian waters.

But despite having the longest coastline in the world and holding roughly 68 per cent of the world’s lakes, Canada remains a relatively unknown diving destination — even among Canadian divers. Rather than embracing the cold or learning to dive in the summer months, many board flights to the Caribbean, Central America and Asia, where they can complete their entry-level Open Water certifications in warmer, less daunting waters.

In a break with convention, Heinerth made the logical decision to start her diving journey in Canada. “I was very fortunate to start drysuit diving in my first few dives,” explains Heinerth. Determined to make diving a lifestyle, she quickly decided that the path forward was to invest in warmth so she could dive at home.

Also an avid advocate of the Canadian diving scene is my drysuit instructor, Ruiz Aguilar, who experienced her first Discover Scuba Dive in the temperate waters off Argentina’s Valdes Peninsula. At first, the novice diver struggled to equalize. As her instructor tried to assist, Ruiz Aguilar remembers feeling a sudden vibration move through her chest. “It was this really weird feeling,” she says. “Then my instructor pointed, and a blue whale swam by. I could hardly believe what was happening.” In that moment, she knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life in the water.

In the winter, divers can enjoy good visibility with the trade-off being that there is less marine life. But when spring rolls around the focus turns to eggs being laid and babies being born. Large mammals like sea lions and whales return to feed, and as summer takes hold, the seas are filled with creatures great and small making the most of the bounty.

Having lived in Canada on and off since 2000, Ruiz Aguilar has observed everything from a dogfish eating an octopus to a raft of sea lions playing in the current. On one special occasion, she spotted a sixgill shark, a species typically found in much deeper water. There are unusual looking fish like the red Irish lord, nudibranchs in every colour of the rainbow, massive lion’s mane jellyfish and ever more massive marine mammals.“I don’t think Canada does a great job at showcasing what’s under the water,” Ruiz Aguilar says. “But [diving here] is so worth it.”

“We have some species here that you don’t see anywhere else on Earth. From the surface, the ocean here looks really dark. Then you start diving, and it’s amazing.”

It is sites like these that inspire Jill Heinerth to advocate tirelessly for Canadian waters. An accomplished explorer, storyteller, and advocate for underwater conservation, Heinerth is always looking at how best to deepen human connections to underwater environments, motivating us to better understand how these ecosystems are changing — work made possible through drysuit diving.

In The Berg, a new documentary presented by CBC’s The Nature of Things and hosted by Sarika Suzuki, Heinerth has used her camera skills to capture the life cycle of icebergs, showcasing the beauty and resilience of these behemoths and the ecosystems around them. Canada’s iceberg alley in Twillingate, N.L., is featured prominently, but this documentary also includes undersea footage captured by Heinerth, who dives beneath these frozen landscapes to showcase the lesser-seen beauty.

For Heinerth, storytelling allows her to deepen people’s connection to Earth’s underwater worlds. The drysuit makes it all possible. “Drysuit diving opens the door to places few would ever visit, allowing those moments to be shared. When we bring back images and stories from these experiences, we spark curiosity, share knowledge, and invite others to be part of the journey.”