Drysuit: Yes or No?

A drysuit is not required to be a competent diver. It is a capital allocation decision that should reflect the water you actually dive and where you expect your diving to go. For many recreational divers, a quality 7mm wetsuit costs around five hundred dollars, while a properly configured drysuit system can approach four thousand dollars or more. In some cases, that single purchase equals everything else in a diver’s gear closet combined. Because of that gap, the decision should be grounded in use rather than impulse.

The Real Cost Comparison

A realistic side-by-side comparison matters.

7mm Wetsuit System

Quality 7mm full suit: $450–$600
Hood and gloves: $100–$200

Total typical investment: $600–$800. This setup is simple, durable, and requires minimal maintenance.

Drysuit System

Suit: $1,700–$3,500+ depending on construction and brand
Undergarments: $300–$800
Gloves or dry glove system: $100–$300
Training, setup, and maintenance

Total typical investment: $2,500–$4,500+. The undergarment layer is not optional. A shell suit without insulation does not keep you warm, so comparisons must reflect complete systems. For many divers, that difference effectively doubles their total scuba investment, which is why the purchase must align with frequency and environment.

What Problem a Drysuit Solves

Cold water affects more than comfort. Dexterity declines. Gas consumption rises. Cognitive bandwidth narrows. Being cold increases stress response and can indirectly elevate decompression stress.

In places like Lake Michigan, bottom temperatures in the 40–50°F range are common below the thermocline for much of the year. A 7mm wetsuit can work in those conditions, particularly on shorter dives. The question is not whether it is survivable. The question is whether it aligns with how often and how seriously you intend to dive.

The same logic applies in the Pacific Northwest and New England. Geography changes. Physics does not.

A drysuit removes temperature as the primary constraint so that gas planning, training, and experience become the limiting factors instead.

My Decision Process

I prefer diving in a wetsuit because it is simpler. There are fewer variables to manage and less bulk to deal with. However, I wanted access to all the wrecks on the Great Lakes, including the shoulder months, not just shallow summer dives. While some divers tolerate a 7mm wetsuit in 45–50°F water, I knew that for me, being cold would reduce enjoyment and shorten dives.

I also knew my diving would not stay confined to one region. I expected to dive on both coasts, and I have already taken my drysuit to Tulum for cenote dives when the water temperature made it appropriate. At that point the decision became clearer. I did not want temperature to be the limiting variable in my diving. I wanted training and experience to be the limiting variables. Once I framed it that way, the cost aligned with the goal.

For context, I added a drysuit and completed drysuit training around dive fifty. That timing made sense for me. In colder regions, some divers begin their training in a drysuit from the start because it is simply the appropriate tool for the local environment. There is no universal milestone. The right time depends on where you dive and what conditions are normal, not on an arbitrary dive count.

When the Investment Makes Sense

A drysuit becomes rational when cold water is your normal environment rather than an occasional inconvenience. If most of your diving places you below 60°F for meaningful durations, you are operating at the margins of what a wetsuit does well. It also makes sense when it materially expands your season. In the Great Lakes, adding several months per year increases total dive count and accelerates experience.

If you find yourself choosing dive sites primarily based on temperature rather than interest, cold is already shaping your diving more than your training is. On the other hand, if you primarily dive warm destinations and encounter cold water only occasionally, the investment may not make sense. Toughness is not a safety strategy, but neither is unnecessary complexity.

Cost Per Dive Perspective

Viewed as a single purchase, a $4,000 system feels large. Viewed over time, the equation changes.

If you dive:

10 times per year → roughly $400 per dive in year one
40 times per year → roughly $100 per dive in year one

Over five to seven years, the cost per dive drops significantly. For frequent cold-water divers, value improves with use.

If You Are Tech-Curious

Even if you are currently a recreational diver, it is worth asking where your diving is likely to be in the next two or three years. If decompression training, deeper Great Lakes wreck diving, cavern or cave environments, or more complex profiles are realistic possibilities, then suit selection becomes a long-term decision rather than a short-term comfort upgrade.

Shell-style trilaminate suits are the dominant configuration in those environments because they:

Handle layered insulation well
Offer predictable buoyancy control
Integrate cleanly with technical configurations
Tolerate abrasion from wreck structure and overhead environments

If you suspect you are technically curious and likely to pursue additional training, investing once in a quality trilaminate suit can prevent a second purchase later. Buying an entry-level cold-water suit today and replacing it in two years is often more expensive than selecting appropriately the first time. This is not about pushing divers into technical diving. It is about capital planning and aligning equipment with trajectory.

Understanding Modern Drysuit Types

Most divers today choose between neoprene-based drysuits and shell-style suits. Neoprene drysuits provide inherent insulation because the material itself traps gas, and they are known for durability and a more wetsuit-like feel. The tradeoff is added bulk and weight, particularly when traveling. While they remain viable, they are no longer the dominant choice among many Great Lakes wreck divers.

Shell suits, including trilaminate and bilaminate construction, rely entirely on undergarments for insulation rather than material thickness. That separation of shell and insulation allows layering to be adjusted for water temperature and dive duration. Trilaminate suits are the most common choice for cold-water wreck diving because they dry quickly, offer predictable buoyancy characteristics, and integrate cleanly with more advanced configurations.

Bilaminate suits, offered by manufacturers such as Bare Sports, are typically lighter and less expensive. They can be entirely appropriate for primarily recreational cold-water diving where extreme durability and repeated heavy abrasion are less of a concern. As with most equipment decisions, material choice should reflect environment and trajectory rather than brand loyalty.

Configuration Details: Zippers, Boots, and Seals

Once you move beyond material type, several configuration decisions meaningfully affect long-term ownership: entry zipper placement, foot style, and seal material. These are not cosmetic choices. They influence independence, comfort, maintenance, and how adaptable the suit will be as your diving evolves.

Front-entry zippers allow most divers to don and doff the suit without assistance. For shore divers and Great Lakes boat diving alike, that autonomy matters. Front-entry designs also make it easier to manage fit adjustments and are the dominant choice in technical configurations.

Back-entry zippers are often slightly less expensive and mechanically simple, but they typically require assistance to close properly. For divers who are almost always assisted on boats, that may not be a concern. For divers who value independence, it often is.

Foot configuration is equally important. Attached boots are simple and durable. You step into the suit and dive. The tradeoff is flexibility. You are committed to the boot size and stiffness built into the suit, which can limit fin selection and make trim adjustments more difficult if the boot is oversized or overly buoyant.

Sock-style suits use a soft fabric or neoprene sock with a separate rock boot worn over it. This allows you to choose boots that match your fin selection and replace them independently if they wear out. For divers who expect to fine-tune trim or change fins over time, socks offer greater adaptability.

Seal material affects comfort and serviceability. Latex seals are common, relatively inexpensive, and provide a tight, low-profile seal. They require periodic replacement and are vulnerable to UV and ozone degradation, but they are straightforward to service.

Silicone seals are softer against the skin and often preferred by divers with latex sensitivity. Many systems use field-replaceable rings, simplifying maintenance. They are typically more expensive and must be handled carefully to avoid tearing.

Neoprene seals are more durable and slightly warmer but bulkier. They are more common in neoprene drysuits than in modern trilaminate shells.

None of these decisions have a universal answer. However, for divers planning long-term cold-water use and potential progression, front-entry, sock-style feet, and replaceable seal systems offer the most flexibility and independence over time.

Local Shop: Measurement, Training, and Support

If you are going to invest several thousand dollars in a drysuit, visit a reputable local dive shop and get properly measured. Torso length, inseam, shoulder width, and the bulk of your undergarments all affect how the suit behaves underwater. A suit that is slightly short in the torso or restrictive across the shoulders can create gas migration issues, limited mobility, and buoyancy frustration. Proper measurement dramatically reduces compromise and increases long-term satisfaction.

Off-the-rack suits work for many divers, but a measured or semi-custom fit is often worth it, especially if you plan to dive cold water regularly. Trying to save money by ordering sight unseen increases the risk of poor fit and early regret. Training should be part of the same decision. A drysuit changes how buoyancy is managed, and structured instruction shortens the learning curve.

Women’s specific suits from manufacturers such as Santi Diving and Bare Sports adjust torso length and proportions in ways that materially affect comfort and buoyancy. Fit is central to performance.

Finally, plan for ownership. Wetsuits rarely remove you from the water for long. Drysuits can. Seals tear, zippers require care, and valves occasionally need service. In a short Great Lakes season, downtime matters, and having a local shop that can inspect, pressure test, and turn repairs around quickly is a practical advantage. Treat fitting, training, and support as part of the system rather than optional add-ons.

Weighting and Gas Management

Switching from a wetsuit to a drysuit changes buoyancy management in practical ways. Undergarments add buoyancy, and the gas inside the suit becomes part of the buoyancy system. As you descend, that gas compresses in accordance with Boyle’s Law, reducing suit volume and requiring gas to be added to prevent squeeze.

Unlike neoprene wetsuits, which lose inherent buoyancy as the material itself compresses, a trilaminate shell does not rely on material thickness for insulation. The buoyancy shift comes from gas compression inside the suit rather than neoprene collapse. That difference changes how weighting and trim are managed.

You will likely need to reassess total ballast and weight distribution. Gas must be added during descent to relieve squeeze and vented deliberately during ascent to prevent migration or uncontrolled expansion. These skills are straightforward, but they are different enough that structured instruction and practice make a meaningful difference.

A drysuit is not simply a warmer wetsuit. It represents a shift in how buoyancy is controlled underwater, which is why proper fitting and training matter from the start.

Dry Gloves and Wrist Strategy

In 40–50°F water, dry gloves materially improve comfort and dexterity, and for many cold-water divers they are standard equipment. That said, I dive with my 3mm or 5mm wetsuit gloves when the water temperature allows because they are less hassle. When simplicity is appropriate, I prefer it.

For flexibility, I recommend maintaining wrist seals even if you add a dry glove system. That preserves the option to use either dry or wet gloves depending on conditions rather than locking yourself into a single configuration. Wrist seals also let you continue the dive with wet gloves if a dry glove fails.

P-Valves, Hydration, and Practicality

I have a P-valve installed. I have never used it. Most of my dives are under sixty minutes, and I make it a habit to urinate before zipping up. For my current profile, that has been sufficient. I installed it because I wanted the option.

A P-valve becomes more rational as dives approach or exceed sixty minutes, during repetitive cold-water days, or when finding an appropriate place to urinate before or after the dive is awkward or impractical.

What should not happen is intentional dehydration to avoid the urge to urinate. Restricting fluids increases decompression stress and is not an appropriate risk-management strategy. If relief planning is a legitimate concern, address it through equipment or dive planning.

For both men and women, proper grooming in the attachment area improves seal reliability and comfort with adhesive systems.

Buying Used: Possible, but Higher Risk

Buying a used drysuit can reduce the initial purchase price, but it also shifts more risk onto you as the buyer. Unlike many other pieces of scuba equipment, a drysuit has multiple wear components that are not always obvious during a quick inspection. Seals age even when stored, zippers wear over time, and small leaks may not reveal themselves until the suit is pressurized underwater.

Replacement seals and zipper repairs are not inexpensive, and a suit that appears to be a bargain can quickly become costly if those components need immediate service. Fit also carries more consequence than with a wetsuit. A suit that is slightly short in the torso or poorly proportioned for your body can create buoyancy instability and long-term frustration.

For a first drysuit, purchasing new with proper measurement and dealer support is often the more conservative path. Used can make sense for experienced divers who understand what to inspect and how to evaluate fit, but lower upfront cost does not automatically translate to lower long-term expense.

So What Would I Recommend?

If you determine that a drysuit makes sense, this is the configuration I would suggest:

Trilaminate shell
Front-entry zipper
Measured or semi-custom fit
Mid-weight insulation such as Fourth Element Arctic
Sock-style feet rather than permanently attached boots
Maintain wrist seals even if adding dry gloves

After those structural decisions, brand becomes secondary. Fit, construction quality, and local support matter more than logos.