Remember that busted regulator from my story? I ended up buying a used Scubapro Mk25 from their consignment rack. It was half the price of a new one, had been fully serviced, and came with a six-month warranty—and a handshake from the guy who’d owned it, who swore it had never touched salt water. (Spoiler: that was a lie, but it still works like a charm.) That’s the beauty of SDS: they treat pre-owned gear like vintage wine, not landfill.
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But here’s the thing that really hooked me. They don’t just sell gear—they host weekends. Pool sessions. Trimix clinics. Even a “night dive with glow sticks” event that turned into a chaotic underwater rave. I’ve met half my dive buddies there, bonding over shared panic when our torches died. You can’t fake that community.
The checkout counter: where irony meets reality
Last time I was there, I grabbed a pair of fancy titanium shears for cutting fishing line—you know, just in case I feel like becoming a marine superhero. The cashier, a guy in his fifties with a handlebar mustache, looked at me and said, “Son, those are for tech divers who cut themselves free of entanglement. You’re gonna use ’em to open beef jerky packets.” He wasn’t wrong. (I’ve already used them to open a bag of almonds.) But the fact he sold them to me anyway, with a knowing wink? That’s the SDS spirit.
I’ve also learned never to go in before lunch. There’s always a dive instructor camped out in the corner, drinking instant coffee and telling stories about a hammerhead encounter that gets bigger every time. I swear, the next time I hear about “that twenty-foot shark,” I’m bringing a tape measure.
SDS Diving Day Sunday 12th November 2017 - Loch Long | SCUBA DIVING
