It is a Friday evening after work and Pier-Luca D’Arman puts on a dry suit and two tanks which weigh 25 kilograms to wade into the water. Whereas the majority of us eke out early autumn sunshine by staying on the shoreline, with a dip considered brave, he is seeking depth. An extra level of equipment is necessary to do so. Below 10 metres, there’s already a sharp drop in temperature. Make that 40 metres and the cold sits at a biting 7 degrees all year round.
Though the beauty of Léman cannot be called into question, it does not boast a technicolour array of coral reef and wildlife that makes scuba diving in it particularly inviting. This is Switzerland, not Thailand. Add on to the fact that diving in freshwater is incredibly technical, even less so. It requires advanced knowledge, extensive preparation and a vast understanding of different (and expensive) gear. In short, it’s much more dangerous.
“Getting into the lake doesn’t exactly appeal,” he readily admits, “nobody really knows what’s down there and the lack of visibility is sometimes so bad, you can't even see your own hands in front of you.”
This contradiction of not always being able to see, or even seeing nothing at all, is precisely what seems to keep inspiring him to get in. Once or twice a week, irrespective of conditions. We associate adrenaline seekers with an urge to continuously raise the pulse but this is entirely counter to how to execute a successful dive, dependent on controlled movements and a slowing of the breath. The cumulative risk for Pier-Luca brings additional security requirements and therefore, increased concentration. He compares this focus to entering a meditative state.
“This is my safe space,” he says with a grin, entirely aware of the irony, “I have a parachuting licence and even that didn’t help with completely emptying my mind. When I dive, I can be underwater for an hour and it will feel like ten minutes.”
There’s a compulsory and defiant urge for him to explore. There’s also a desire to explain. The 30 year old Lausannois uses photography to document what he sees in the murk, which is more than you might initially believe. There are shipwrecks big and small, plotted and unplotted. There are sunken sculptures. There are varied species and schools of fish. There is, of course, unusual trash. He uses his digital marketing skills from his day job to grow an online platform where he shares his discoveries. He also posts about some of the environmental challenges that the lake faces, to which he is witness.
The motives are clear. But as I watch him gear up with meticulous precision, talking fluently through his apparatus and the innumerable things that could go wrong, I see the commitment this takes and still think he is mad. This innate need to get to the bottom of our lake has been inherited. Pier-Luca’s grandfather, Domenico D’Arman, was a pioneering Léman scuba diver in the 70s, charting shipwrecks at a time when equipment was much more rudimentary. He tragically died in the lake whilst giving a diving lesson, decades before his grandson was born.
The level of knowledge required to avoid such accidents, and to keep being able to explore, is what seems to motivate Pier-Luca the most. There is continuous learning. A perfectionism, combined with the carrot-dangling opportunity to see something new. To go even deeper. In November, he will travel to explore shipwrecks and begin a technical training to dive at 45 metres.
“Except for astronauts, divers are the last remaining explorers on earth,” he believes, “we have walked all over every piece of land but underwater, we are still able to discover the unknown.”
He looks like an astronaut as he is waist deep and about to submerge. He also looks more visibly relaxed. His weekend has begun. Behind him from the beach in Rivaz, there is a watercolour sky with gaps for clouds that makes the mountains even more piercing. Perfect hiking conditions. Instead, Pier-Luca lowers further and chooses altitude in reverse.
“I have the same views but reflected under water,” he says, “in fact, the reasons I scuba dive are the same reasons that people go to the mountains. I go for the perspectives. I go for the nature. Sometimes the weather is bad, sometimes it’s incredible. If you’re lucky, you might even spot some wildlife.”
Just like hiking, he confirms there is also a celebratory beer at the end. For him, the Léman provides an endless draw and a desire to scale the limits of his passion. Proof that extra curiosity about the environment, and going against assumptions, means you can always be surprised. It’s convincing enough to make you want to stick your head further under water yourself.
Pier-Luca d’Arman’s underwater escapades can be followed via his diving account @swiss.aquanaut . He also shares educational diving tips and is passionate about making the local diving community more inclusive.
This article is part of our Lake Perspective series. Vanessa Tracey also writes a newsletter on Substack. You can read more of her writing here.
