More Than Timekeepers – Diving with Doxa in the Gulf

There is a tendency to see watch collecting as a solitary pursuit. One imagines a lonely man sitting in a dank den, admiring his collection and spot-shining his timepieces with a polishing cloth before donning his sleeping cap and retiring to bed at 7pm. It has only recently occurred to me that watches, and the pursuit of collecting them, are much more of a social endeavour than one might imagine. Beyond the obvious examples of the thousands of watch clubs and meetups around the globe, even the solitary person wearing a watch broadcasts a social cue to others, whether on purpose or subliminally. That signal can be anything from “I’m a diver” to “I’m a military enthusiast” to “I’m a brat whose parents have a load of money”. For better or worse, the signal is there, out in the ether just waiting for an appropriate party to receive it and respond in kind.

One can think of watches as a kind of challenge coin that you wear on your wrist, all day, every day, subconsciously waiting for some other like-minded soul to notice. And for most of us, many decades removed from the forced sociality and friendships of primary school, those opportunities are fewer and further between. So when Doxa and The Watch Preserve invited our little group of watch nerd divers down to Panama City Beach, Florida, for a few days of diving at the end of August, I said yes before I’d even checked my calendar.

The group is SHIPS, the Subaquatic Historical Interest and Preservation Society. It’s a lofty name for a bunch of people who met through watches, but we find it fitting. Most of us found each other online first, on Instagram or Slack threads about bezel inserts and rare old dive watches. Realising we were all divers, we eventually met up in person for a dive in Lake Michigan, and lifelong friendships formed instantly. We planned a trip, then another. Now we dive together several times a year, and the group chat is as likely to have a photo of someone’s kid at their first piano recital in it as a wrist shot.

I bring this up because it’s the challenge coin idea playing out. Post an Instagram photo of yourself wearing a Doxa in the water and boom: people know you’re a diver and a watch guy and you probably have a lot in common and should probably be friends. You get the idea. This trip was dreamed up and funded by The Watch Preserve, a watch shop in Fort Worth, TX. Nik Libby started the shop after finding his first vintage watch at a garage sale when he was 15, and the shop now buys, sells and restores vintage and modern watches for collectors around the country. It’s also the only authorised Doxa retailer in Texas. Michael Pandolfo, their Director of Sales and Partnerships, organised everything, and we owe them a huge thank you for making it happen.

The modern Doxa lineup has no shortage of hits, and Doxa and The Watch Preserve brought most of them along for us to wear: the classic SUB 300 and SUB 300T, the newer and smaller SUB 200T, the Army, and the new SUB 200 T-Graph II chronograph. Also along for the ride was the SUB 300 Ti5 Clive Cussler limited edition and a few others. We passed them around for days. You’d wear one on a dive, hand it off at lunch and pick something else to take in the water that afternoon. It was a real dream smorgasbord for a very particular and niche type of watch enthusiast.

Everyone found something to like. The T-Graph II, a brand-new chronograph based on the 1969 original, drew plenty of interest, being the new kid on the block. I kept reaching for the SUB 300 Ti5 Clive Cussler, a titanium limited edition honouring the famous novelist who put a Doxa on Dirk Pitt’s wrist. The matte grey dial with an ever-so-slight essence of OD green spoke to me in ways I hadn’t expected.

Day one on the water was a wreck dive. There’s something about dropping down a line onto a wreck that never gets old: the hull slowly taking shape out of the blue, the fish that have moved in and made it their own kingdom, the strange quiet of a place that was once full of people and purpose. We came up smiling and talking over each other about things we’d seen before we’d even gotten back on the boat.

On the second day, the group had to split up for logistical reasons. Half headed for a shore dive off the jetty at St. Andrews State Park, while I went back out on the charter with the others for more wreck diving. The second day on a boat always goes quicker. Everyone knows where their tanks go and where the snacks are, and the conversation picked up right where it had left off. Underwater there is obviously no talking, so when not trying to avoid accidentally crashing into the wreck, there is plenty of time for glancing at the wrists of the divers around me, a little flash of orange or yellow here and there against the blue-green of the Gulf, each one a small reminder of how we’d all become friends in the first place.

Afterwards we were treated to a private tour of the Man in the Sea Museum, a bucket list item for a gang of shipwreck nerds. The museum is dedicated to the history of man’s attempts to live under the sea, thus the name, with a collection that runs from early helmets and hard-hat gear to the pioneering underwater habitats of the U.S. Navy’s Sealab program. We hung around far longer than any normal tourist group would, trying on old gear under the rolling eyes of the staff, asking lots of questions and generally behaving like kids in a candy store.

I wore the Cussler Ti for most of the trip, and after I got home I bought one of my own, having not been able to get it out of my head. I’ve owned a lot of watches over the years; most come and go. But I have a feeling this one is staying. Not because it’s the rarest or the most beautiful thing I own, but because every time I strap it on, I’m back on that boat in the Gulf of Mexico, surrounded by people I might never have met if not for a shared obsession with antiquated dive watches. That’s the challenge coin idea at work. A watch on your wrist sends out a signal, and if you’re lucky, the right people pick it up. Mine led me to a group of friends who now feel like family, and we’re already bickering about where to dive next.

The good news is that you don’t have to wait for the right stranger to notice your wrist. The Watch Preserve plans to make this trip a recurring thing, taking a different shape each year. If you’re a diver, a watch nerd, or ideally both, keep an eye on what they’re up to as they host events throughout the year. And make sure to bring your Doxa.

For more details, consult doxawatches.com.