When we transcend the fear of failure and terror of the unknown, we are all capable of great things, personally and as a society. We might not always know where the journey will lead us. We might feel a burden of difficulty, but all paths lead to discovery. Both good and bad life events contribute to the fabric of who we are as individuals and as a civilization. If we continue to trek purposefully toward our dreams, into the planet and beyond, we just might achieve the impossible.
Jill Heinerth seems to have led a life of trekking purposefully toward her dreams, and despite personal sacrifices and the constant risk of mortal danger, she has built an enviable career as a cave diver and explorer, as an advanced trainer of technical diving, and as a filmmaker and writer. Part memoir, part chronicle of modern cave diving and the evolving science that allows humans to go deeper and for longer on these dangerous dives, Into the Planet is an often thrilling and always interesting book about an extreme sport and an extreme life. [Note: I read an ARC and passages quoted may not be in their final forms.]
The archway of ice above our heads is furrowed like the surface of a golf ball, carved by the hand of the sea. Iridescent blue, Wedgwood, azure, cerulean, cobalt, and pastel robin's egg meld with chalk and silvery alabaster. The ice is vibrant, bright, and at the same time ghostly, shadowy. The beauty contradicts the danger. We are the first people to cave dive inside an iceberg. And we may not live to tell the story.The book opens with a prologue set inside the iceberg known as B-15 – a large chunk of Antarctica that broke off in the year 2000, and at the time that Heinerth and two others made several unprecedented dives into its interior, it was the largest free-floating object on Earth – and right from the beginning, the storytelling is thrilling and beautifully wrought. The narrative then rewinds to Heinerth's childhood and early adult experiences, and still, it's all fascinating. When the young professional decides to leave her life and her career as the co-owner of a Toronto-based graphic design firm in order to become a dive instructor in the Caribbean, her journeys into the planet begin in earnest. As every major expedition that Heinreth and her co-divers propose require sponsors and fundraising before the fact, it's interesting to see how she eventually uses her expertise in graphic design and photography to create the brochures and promotional materials that make the eventual dives possible (and then to see how she develops her love of underwater photography into groundbreaking filmmaking). The stories of the major dives that follow are worthy of any fictional adventure novel, but I have to admit that I wasn't as interested in the parallel story of the author's strained marriage to fellow diver Paul Heinreth (but can't ultimately fault her for putting this large part of her life into her own memoir). I was intrigued by the additional pressures that the author faced as one of the few women in her field, and acknowledge that it must have been horrible to be a pioneer at the dawn of the internet, before most of us knew to ignore the trolls. As the story of an adventuresome life, this is all good stuff.
If you cave dive long enough, you will eventually face the death of a friend. Worse, you may even recover the body of one, or hold them as their life force ebbs. In those moments, your life will be changed forever. Back then, in Huaulta, I was new enough to cave diving and exploration that I had not yet lost a close friend. In my gut, I knew that if I were going to participate in extreme endeavors like this expedition, my days of innocence were numbered.There is quite a bit about the dangers involved in trying to dive deeper and longer than anyone has before; cave diving seems to be an extremely competitive endeavor and Heinreth knows that every time she swims into the unknown she not only risks her own life but the peace and mental security of those she might leave behind; and particularly the peace and mental security of those of her friends who might be called upon to recover her lifeless body if she fails to resurface on her own. Heinreth explains that she has the “7R” gene (that causes people to seek the dopamine rush of novel situations), but unlike those who participate in extreme “sports” for the thrills alone, Heinreth stresses the scientific knowledge that her dives have provided – and especially those dives that trace the surprising sources and underground pathways of drinking water – and that does seem to legitimise her endeavors beyond the “because it's there” ethos. Overall, this is the story of a large life, and it's told well. I'm glad to have gotten to know Jill Heinreth and I wish her success and safety in the future.
