The Legacy of the Divers at Sam Khok
Travel Like The Wind : Suchart Choolee
A woman sits quietly on an old wooden boat floating in the middle of the Chao Phraya River in Sam Khok District, Pathum Thani. The scorching afternoon sun reflects off the rippling water, but she remains still, eyes fixed on the rope and hose descending into the murky depths below.
She isn’t just waiting for the man underwater—she’s waiting for whatever he might bring back. The creases on her face reveal a mix of determination… and quiet fear.
From the opposite bank, the hum of motorboats echoes, while a gentle breeze nudges the boat ever so slightly. But her focus never wavers—because the man she loves is searching below, grasping at fragments of the past: broken ceramics, shattered porcelain, discarded relics. Objects once forgotten now carry value—turned into income that feeds their family and children. This isn’t just a job. It’s a life inherited through generations. In Sam Khok, these individuals are known as “Underwater Treasure Hunters.”
This isn’t just a job. It’s a life inherited through generations,these individuals are known as “Underwater Treasure Hunters.”
Before each dive, they chant sacred verses passed down from ancestors—not just for faith, but for protection. The diver and the watcher—usually family—must trust one another entirely. The helmet, once heavy iron, is now made of stainless steel, connected to an air pump by a long rubber hose—the very one the woman is gripping tightly.
Their only communication is through tugs on the rope: one for “Be cautious”, three or four for “Danger—surface immediately.” In the depths, visibility vanishes. Eyes are useless. Only bare hands guide the search. Gloves are rarely worn—fingers must be sensitive enough to tell apart glass shards from hidden treasures.
Some dives end with nothing. Others surface with items worth far more than their appearance. Skill, instinct, and luck all play their part. But for these divers, returning to the Chao Phraya’s depths is more than work. It’s a connection—to a history not yet forgotten, to stories buried in the silt. And on that small boat, the woman still holds the rope… and waits— For her loved one to return safely, with something worth the risk—and worth their life.
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