RRRIIING! THE NOISE OF THE TELEPHONE PIERCED MY BRAIN. Dazed, I fumbled for the receiver. It was early one Saturday in January, and an unfamiliar voice with a strong dialect wasted no time on introductions: "Can you dive to around 40 metres?" he asked. Half-conscious, I replied: "It shouldn't be any problem, I guess".
     "Can you dive in a lake and salvage a snow-scooter?" asked the voice.
     I regained enough consciousness to ask what this was all about. He was, it seemed, a native of Lapland. He and his family had a camp at a lake deep in the mountains and had lost a valuable snow-scooter through the spring ice. It now lay at the bottom of the lake.
     I looked out at the Swedish winter darkness. The thermometer showed minus 20°C. If I accepted, I faced a 250 mile drive into the mountains, followed by a 35 mile snow-scooter trip into the wilderness. All my dive-gear had been packed away for the winter in the cellar, and my car was not equipped for winter. I was not enthusiastic. To discourage the caller, I told him he had to hire a car for me, and quoted a ridiculously high fee, with no guarantees of success.
     Without hesitation he said: "A rented car will be outside your door in two hours. We'll meet you at the main road west of the lake." My wife and I packed the gear, the car arrived and we headed north.
     After five hours we found the Laps standing by the road with their scooters. We bedded down in reindeer-skins on the sleds and raced through the winter landscape into the wilderness.
     It was like a Jack London novel. I expected to see bears crossing our path and wolves howling at the Northern Lights.
     Two hours later we reached the camp - three cottages beside the lake. That evening we discussed the next day's work by the light of a kerosene lamp. The Laps planned to use dynamite to blast a hole into the ice quickly. And the next morning we made our way to the site of the accident, marked by branches.
     I thought about the icy black water, but it was too late. The Laps laid down five dynamite sticks and lit the fuse.
     "FFfffffft!" A small explosion and a plume of surface water shot into the air, but it left no hole in the ice. Without a word, two of the Laps scootered off to the nearest town - almost 200 miles away - to buy more dynamite.
     It was interesting to get to know the Laps and observe their lifestyle. They were still partially supporting themselves by hunting and keeping reindeer.
     But the next morning brought home to me what kind of people they were as, to my disbelief, they attached a fuse to the entire box of dynamite and lit it.
     We ran for our lives. The explosion threw a gigantic pillar of water into the air. A wave spread through the ice and a 3m hole opened up.
     I put on my Viking drysuit. I knew there was a possibility that my regulator could freeze and free-flow. If this happened at the bottom, and if I failed to find the opening fast enough, I could be in serious trouble - the tank would empty in minutes. My wife tied the lifeline, we repeated the signals, and I was in the water. The iciness burned my face, but it soon became numb.
     As I aimed my light downwards, I had a big surprise - the water was crystal-clear. I had never seen anything like it.
     The beam cut through the water and I could see the scooter standing upright on a clean gravel bottom. I took the lift-rope and descended quickly. My gauge showed 38m. I tied the rope around the steering and that was it.
     By now I was enjoying the dive and was reluctant to ascend straight away. I looked up - what a sight!
     A weak light filtered through the ice and bright sunlight shone through the opening. I aimed my light towards the opening and could see the Laps looking over the edge, and the lifeline and lift-rope descending.
     I felt like an astronaut on a spacewalk. Visibility must have been in the region of 90m and I realised that this was something I would never experience again. It was a dream-like scene, perhaps amplified by slight nitrogen narcosis.
     Reluctantly, I pulled myself together and began to ascend. When I broke the surface it felt unreal - like waking up after a good dream onto which you want to hold.
     It took the Laps only minutes to pull up the vehicle, using the other scooters. After cleaning, lubrication and a battery change, it started almost immediately.
     The Laps cheered and danced about on the ice. One gave me a hug and a cup of tea from a Thermos flask. I realised, coughing, that tea was not the only thing in that bottle.
     A substantial amount of money subsequently changed hands, and that was it. We set off home, and I was left with a diving experience I will never forget.