The keepers

These are the special ones

Earlier this week, I wrote an essay about my reluctance to call myself a watch collector. It occurred to me that it might have left the impression that I am burned out on watches entirely. This isn’t the case at all. And to prove it, I thought I’d give some impressions of a handful of favorites from my own collection. It’s a bit of a mixed bag, but with a theme that should come as no surprise. Let’s call these the “keepers”.

First up is an obvious one and a watch that likely needs no introduction or much explaining, since I feel like I’ve written about it a LOT. My Rolex Submariner, ref. 14060M. This is the watch I got to commemorate my 40th birthday way back in 2010. Gishani and I bought it together from Osterman’s Jewelers, which is now defunct. The salesman was a very passionate and knowledgeable man named Calvin, whose talents I felt were wasted at this jeweler in the Mall of America. Calvin had tried to convince me of the merits of buying one of the few old style GMT-Masters with the new 3186 movement in it, but I was a hardcore diver and had my heart set on a Sub. No regrets. It’s the last of the no-date, no ROLEXROLEXROLEX rehaut, drilled lug Submariners and has been through the wars with me—up Rainier, down to the wreck of the Hermes, sailing the Big Boat Series in San Francisco Bay and hiking the Milford Track in New Zealand. If there’s one watch that is the last to go, this is it.

Next up is a much more contemporary watch but it also happens to be the one that’s been in my collection nearly as long as the Rolex. It’s my Bremont Supermarine 2000. This watch is special to me because it is a prototype that Bremont sent to me to take diving before they launched it. In fact, they had asked if I’d like to join them for their launch event in Grand Cayman but I had to decline due to a previously scheduled dive trip to the Out Islands of the Bahamas. So they asked if we’d be willing to shoot some video of the watch underwater that they could show at their event in a few days’ time. 

We got some good footage in the very clear water that the Bahamas is known for, but the problem was getting the media file to them across the Caribbean in time. The small resort where we were staying had horrendously slow wi-fi, so Gishani and I hoofed it, in the dark, on dirt roads for a couple of miles across the tiny island of San Salvador to a Club Med to poach their signal. Somehow we got the file across, it was a success, and Bremont later offered to let me keep the watch. I’ve since had it diving under the ice, hiking, skiing, and countless other adventures for which it is well suited. It might be my toughest mechanical watch.

Speaking of tough watches, also with some British heritage, is my CWC Royal Navy dive watch, one that was issued in 1995 to an operator in the British Special Boat Service. Yes, it’s a quartz powered watch but I adore its heritage, its grab and go ease and its utterly bombproof build, with fixed strap bars and 300 meters of water resistance. I often travel with this watch, either on my wrist or in my dopp kit as a backup. It can only be worn on a NATO strap, which keeps it nondescript and failsafe. When I did three dives on the Hermes wreck in Sri Lanka, I wore this one on the first dive, for its obvious Royal Navy connection.

Staying with the dive watch theme (big surprise), but going a bit back in time, is a 1969 Doxa SUB 200 T-Graph Sharkhunter. I’d normally consider “keepers” as watches I’ve built memories with myself, but this one has such a good story it’s become one of the chosen few. A few years ago, I wrote a story about the first T-Graph I bought, a Searambler (silver dial for those unfamiliar with Doxa nomenclature). One day, two years ago, I got an email out of the blue from a man in Oregon who’d read the story and said he had an original T-Graph he bought new back in 1970 and now he wanted to sell it. It needed some work and he wasn’t wearing it anymore. He asked my advice. Long story short, I made it mine. I also made a friend with this man. Turns out he got his PADI dive certification (and his watch) the year I was born, and not a hundred miles away. He also used to vacation with it on his wrist in northern Minnesota (my home state). His own love of the watch, his background, and my own love of vintage Doxa dive watches really sealed the deal. I had the watch entirely rebuilt and serviced and honored it with a dive in Bonaire 50 years after its first plunge. Seemed fitting.

Finally a non-diver, but also vintage. I’ve had a few Omega Speedmasters over the years. I’ve made no secret of my interest in the space program. I read The Right Stuff annually and consume all I can in the way of historical space documentaries and books. I was born on the day the crippled Apollo 13 module rounded the back of the Moon. The Speedy is an obvious watch for me. The trouble is, I felt it didn’t suit my lifestyle, which is often in, around, or under water. So they never stuck. But I finally managed to find the right one—a “pre-Moon” example, with the vaunted Calibre 321 inside, built in April, 1968 and sold to a customer in Lebanon a month later. The lume on the hands has fallen out, it doesn’t keep great time, and the bezel is a later replacement, but this one isn’t going anywhere. The J Peterman catalog back in the ‘80s used to say that a Navy peacoat is one of five things a man looks his best in. I’d include the Omega Speedmaster in that list. It is masculine, perfectly proportioned, instantly recognizable, versatile, and just oozes the confidence of Wally Schirra climbing out of a Corvette at Pad 39A.

And that’s about it. That’s not to say there aren’t others I love to wear: my Seiko Turtle, my Hodinkee edition Blancpain, or the vintage Tudor Snowflake. In fact, I probably wear these others more on a day to day basis. But if pushed, the five I described above are my keepers, each for different reasons. And if I had any one of them on my wrist as I throw the bugout bag and jerry cans in the Land Rover and head for Saskatchewan, I’d be happy.