I paced nervously on the ship as the expedition team monitored the radio. We were awaiting clearance to board a smaller boat to take us into the remote Antarctic wilderness. Somewhere out there among the ice, a tiny submarine (technically, a submersible) bobbed along the surface and scouted dive conditions.
I checked my gear. While Heather wasn't looking, I stashed the engagement ring in a pocket under my life vest where it would be much easier to reach inside the cramped sub. I was anxious, not about asking my longtime girlfriend to marry me, but about the logistics of how and when to do it, whether she would hate the ring, if the ice and weather would cooperate, and if it would all go according to plan.
Our dream trip to Antarctica had been planned for a year, and at some point, I realized that there would never be a better place to pop the question… Ever.
After learning that diving in a submersible was an option, I became obsessed with proposing underwater. Imagine reaching Antarctica — one of the most unique and least-visited places on this planet — and then going to an even more unique place where virtually no one has ever been.
It seemed perfect, and best of all, she had no idea it was coming.
As I waited, a disturbing thought entered my mind: what if we couldn't sit together? In addition to the pilot, the sub held six passengers, three in each of the two clear acrylic spheres. This meant that one couple would be separated.
I imagined yelling across the sub at her to marry me, and then asking the pilot and strangers seated between us to pass the ring to her so she could put it on her own finger. Then we'd blow each other kisses…
No, if we couldn't sit together, my sub plan would need to be scrapped, and if I had to settle for anything else, I wondered if some tiny seed of regret would slowly eat away at me. Now I was worried, but fortunately she didn't notice.
A voice squawked on the radio. "Today's dive has been cancelled. No dive operations today."
It was a let down, but part of me was relieved. The Antarctic weather had changed in an instant, and for safety reasons, it was very common for sub and small boat operations to be cancelled at the last minute. I asked a member of the expedition team about our chances of getting rebooked on another dive later in the week.
"Not good," she said, without an ounce of hesitation.
Realizing that the moment had arrived and was gone in an instant, I was disappointed. We walked slowly back to our cabin. The ring, which had travelled with me halfway around the world, was once again hidden away in my backpack.
My submarine proposal plans had been sunk.
My Precious
I'd smuggled that ring through security in four airports and across three continents. I'd kept it under constant watch from Washington, D.C. to Atlanta, to Buenos Aires and onward to the world's southernmost city — Ushuaia, Argentina. From there, it was with me in the Drake Passage on a white-knuckle two-day sail across some of the roughest seas in the world.
This ring and I had been through a lot together.
I couldn't use the hotel safe because she would know. I didn't keep it in my pocket for fear she would recognize the shape of the jewelry box through my clothing. I hid it in my backpack with my camera gear, which occasionally had to be left behind on vans and buses in Argentina. I checked it obsessively to make sure that some Gollum hadn't snatched it away. I'd rehearsed what I would say to luggage inspectors at airports (in English and Spanish) if they wanted to open the box in front of her. Anytime she stepped away, I checked on the ring.
When we finally reached Antarctic waters aboard the Seabourn Pursuit, a purpose-built polar expedition ship, my precious had been with me for more than 7,200 miles, quadruple the distance that Frodo and Sam walked across Middle Earth. But instead of tossing it into a volcano, this ring was bound for Heather's finger, and she didn't expect a thing.
I had no idea if she would even like it.
The ring wasn't a family heirloom, and I didn't consult her friends or family. The two of us had never actually discussed what she would like, since that would ruin the surprise. So I'd been left to my own devices to pick out something that simply felt right.
The jewelry shop recommended to me was right across the street from the coffee shop where we'd first met, and right down the street from our first date, so that felt right. I secretly took photos of every drawer in her jewelry box and showed them to the shop employee. I thought that was clever, but it ended up not being very helpful.
Case after case, I was shown dozens of rings, and I summarily weeded them all out. None of them felt right for her…
Except this one. My precious.
Missed Opportunities?
The following days passed quickly as we explored more of Antarctica. We climbed snowy peaks and hiked under blue skies to incredible overlooks surrounded by legions of penguins. We kayaked in tranquil waters among massive icebergs, whales, and leopard seals. We sailed the ship into an active volcano.
We crossed the Antarctic Circle to reach an abandoned research base and were battered by 75mph winds. Epic glaciers, clear water, and snowy peaks surrounded us in every direction. Any of these places would have been an ideal place to propose, and she would have been ecstatic no matter what.
As the week ended, I began to fear that I had missed my moment. I figured that the trip had peaked, and now I wondered if I would regret not having proposed on one of those picturesque ridges. We had experienced so much in Antarctica — the most incredible place I have ever seen.
But my heart was still set on a sub dive.
A New Hope
We received a note in our cabin with promising news. The Pursuit sailed into Paradise Harbour and Heather and I had been re-booked on a sub dive to explore Leith Cove. As always, the dive was dependent on weather and ice, and there was a good chance it would be cancelled again. We were instructed to meet the expedition team the following morning wearing our life vests and dark clothing (to reduce glare on the sub's acrylic windows and help visibility). Ironically, jewelry isn't allowed in the sub, as rings may scratch the interior of the acrylic spheres.
The next morning, I removed the ring from its hiding spot and slipped it back into my pocket. We met with the expedition team as instructed, but soon heard reports on the radio that visibility in the water was minimal. It looked like this dive would be cancelled as well.
How many more chances would I have to keep doing this?
I was still figuring out how to make sure we could sit together on the sub. Another couple waited nearby — complete strangers — who would be diving with us. If I could just get a few moments alone with them, perhaps they would help.
Word came over the radio that conditions had improved and the dive was on. With my time running short, I was saved by an unlikely ally…
Her bladder.
You know that moment just before a road-trip when your brain convinces you to go to the bathroom one last time, whether you actually need to or not? This apparently also applies to sub dives.
As Heather went for her inevitable bathroom break, I turned to the complete strangers beside me. I quickly met Glenn and Geraldine, a lovely English couple, and using as few words as possible, explained my plan to propose underwater. Understanding my dilemma, and thankfully eager to help, they offered to sit apart from each other in the sub, which would allow Heather and I to sit together. Geraldine even offered to take photos.
In less than 45 seconds, our plan had been fully formed. Heather returned from the bathroom and suspected nothing. The weather improved, and soon we were bouncing across Paradise Harbour in an inflatable boat to rendezvous with our awaiting sub. Things were looking good.
The Submersible
U-Boat Worx Cruise Submersible #713 bobbed in the water and awaited our arrival; its white and orange top visible above the surface. The craft, one of two Sub 7–300 submarines aboard the Pursuit, holds six passengers and a pilot, and is rated to a depth of 300 meters (nearly 1,000 feet).
Besides serving as pleasure cruises for tourists, dives also contribute valuable scientific data. Sub dives in Antarctica are recorded, and the resulting video footage is provided to scientists like Dr. Susanne Lockhart, a marine biologist at the California Academy of Sciences, to identify vulnerable marine ecosystems and designate marine protective areas. In the last few years, Antarctic sub dives have resulted in the identification of vulnerable ecosystems near Vega and Melchior Islands.
Our boat moored safely alongside the sub. The first couple climbed aboard and disappeared through the hatch and down the ladder. Next went Glenn and Geraldine, and per our plan, they each sat in one of the two acrylic spheres. Heather and I climbed down next, and thanks to the kindness of our new friends, we sat together. Tom, the pilot, climbed down last and took his seat at the controls between the two pods.
It was cramped and claustrophobic, but all systems were go.
The Dive
After several safety and radio checks, we began our descent. A few days before, word spread that a passenger had suffered a panic attack at this stage of the journey, which resulted in the cancellation of the dive. I wondered if our dive would meet a similar fate, but no one seemed panicked and we made our descent.
Visibility was poor, but we saw several Antarctic silverfish, salp, krill, and more on the way down. It was amazing to me how many things were alive and thriving under the sea in such a seemingly inhospitable place.
Fifty meters, 100 meters, 150 meters… Soon, the light from the surface disappeared and we were in near-darkness. The thin sheet of acrylic was invisible, and it felt like nothing separated us from the freezing water all around us.
"The sub will automatically re-surface if I lose consciousness," said Tom.
I'm not really sure if that statement put anyone at ease.
"If that happens, one of you will put on my headset to communicate with topside." He toyed with a handheld video-game controller to steer the sub. "Don't push any buttons and we'll be fine."
Since returning from this trip, many friends and family have voiced their personal fears to me about submersible diving. Nearly all of them mention the tragic implosion of the OceanGate Titan near the Titanic wreck site in 2023 (which dove much deeper than we did). The truth is, I felt much safer diving in Antarctica than I do driving on Interstate 95. It was all very safe.
Tom switched on the exterior lights and our acrylic spheres were flooded with an ethereal green glow. At a depth of 169 meters (nearly 600 feet), we came to rest on the sea floor, and a cloudy plume kicked up around us. Visibility wasn't great, but I didn't care — I had something else on my mind.
The Proposal
Tom was busy on the radio talking with topside about our next steps. They discussed moving to another area of the cove where visibility might be better. We were sitting on the sea floor 600 feet below Antarctica. We couldn't see much, it was incredibly silent, and we had a few minutes of downtime.
This was it.
I handed my phone to Geraldine and asked her to take a photo of Heather and me. She smiled, and after doing so, handed my phone back to me, but I was reaching for the ring under my life vest.
With the box hidden in my hand, I looked at Heather and said exactly what was on my mind.
"Don't freak out."
"What?" She looked at me with a confused smile.
"You can't freak out."
I imagined the sheer chaos that would ensue if she saw the ring and screamed in the cramped sub. What would the pilot do? What would the topside expedition team think if they heard someone screaming over the radio?
I opened the box and she saw the ring. Her hand covered her mouth, and I saw her eyes immediately fill with tears. "Oh… god."
I couldn't kneel, and I had no romantic speech prepared, but none of that mattered. Four words were all I needed.
"Will you marry me?"
She seemed like she was in shock. Without hesitation, she nodded emphatically, the tears began, and we kissed. I heard Geraldine choke up.
It was special. We had reached the end of the planet, literally, and then found a way to keep going. For just a few moments, the rest of the world was completely shut off, and it was just the two of us, sitting in a bizarre plastic bubble on the sea floor.
Manning his controls just a few feet away, Tom had no idea that any of this was happening, and he was busy discussing the importance of krill in the marine ecosystem, and the flow of the underwater current.
We kissed again, and from across the sub, Glenn yelled, "congratulations!" Now Tom and the other passengers realized what had happened and the secret was out.
With a laugh, I asked Heather to give the ring back to me, and it went right back into my pocket. Jewelry was forbidden on the sub.
Geraldine handed me my phone. She later told me that she had been far more nervous than I was.
Engaged
Despite being out on the water for nearly an hour, our sub dive in Leith Cove was technically cancelled due to poor visibility. It didn't matter to us in the least, but the expedition team was kind enough to book us on another sub dive a few days later, weather permitting. It worked out, and we made an amazing second dive along a submerged cliff-face in Skontorp Cove.
Once we surfaced and got back to the ship, Glenn and Geraldine joined us for an early-morning champagne toast. Someone mentioned that it seemed like the whole operation had been arranged just for us. We'd taken a Zodiac boat out to the cove, boarded the sub, descended to the sea floor, got engaged, and then we all came back to the ship. The entire morning had been designed especially for us, or at least that's how it felt.
Later that day, we temporarily re-connected with the outside world and shared our news with family and friends back home. We took the "Polar Plunge" to celebrate and dove into 1°C water (33°F). At dinner, the ship's staff went out of their way to prepare a special dessert for us, and we were congratulated by many of our fellow passengers and crew as word traveled quickly around the small ship.
That night, we were treated to a perfectly clear sky, and an incredible orange crescent moon rose above the surrounding snow-scape. Heather and I stepped out on deck and soaked it in for a very long time.
Neither of us spoke.
The ship's captain joined us for lunch the next day. He told us that we were the first engagement on an Antarctic sub that he and his pilots had ever heard of.
It was a nice thought, but neither of us went to Antarctica to set any records. We had our moment, together, and it was perfect.
And she loves the ring.
Thanks for reading, and a special thanks to Captain Vasvi, the expedition team, the sub pilots and crew of the Seabourn Pursuit for an incredible adventure. Thanks to Glenn and Geraldine for the assist!
See videos of our sub dives here:
And for more of my stories from Antarctica, enjoy the links below!