Week on the wrist with the Seiko SPB213, Part 2: Upper Peninsula Michigan Adventure.

Affordable Diver, or Extravagant Camping Watch?

Welcome to Part 2 of my two-part, two-week-on-the-wrist review of the Seiko SPB213. In Part 1, I described why I was looking for a simple, “affordable” dive watch to take on a two-week 4WD tour of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, and then I pulled a fast one on you and spent quite a few paragraphs on the backstory of how this old dyed in the wool Land Rover nut became a Jeep guy. A Sherpa cargo trailer, originally designed to be pulled by an old Landy on camping adventures as a stuff-hauler, was converted and refurbished into a camperette designed to be pulled by a modern Jeep. The only thing left to do was select a trusty timepiece up to the rigors of the adventure. The Seiko SPB213 definitely makes the cut.

The Seiko SPB213, at home under the waves of Lake Superior.

And just a quick word here about affordability. I put it in quotes above because it means different things to different people. The Seiko SPB213 is a mid-tier dive watch for this maker, coming in at $1200 USD. You could certainly spend less on a Seiko diver, but you’re unlikely to get a sapphire crystal or Seiko’s 6R movement. If $1200 is steep for you, which would be totally understandable, then my advice is to wait and shop for a second hand specimen. Even though it’s a limited edition, Seiko made a ton of these, and they’re sure to come down in price before their collectibility drives their value up, if indeed that ever occurs.

What makes a good camping watch.

Let’s talk for a second about why a dive watch is so darned handy on a camping trip. It boils down to three key characteristics for me: a timing bezel, good water resistance, and excellent lume. There are so many things that need to be timed when you’re out in the bush, from that jambalaya simmering on the Coleman two-burner, to the time of travel on a two-track road, to chilling a bottle of wine in an icy lake. I also used it to time the incredibly slow service at an otherwise interesting inn we stayed at when we needed a break from the wilderness, which, admittedly, doesn’t seem like a must-have function.

Just short of an hour in the chilly water of Lake Superior did nicely for our wine choice at happy hour.

And then, because I’m always looking for opportunities to swim, cliff jump, and just generally goof off in water, good water resistance is paramount. But even if you don’t enjoy those things, camping is often an exercise in getting wet, so I’d think you’d want decent WR anyway. Of course, a good Hamilton field watch with a 50 m WR rating will get non-swimmers where they need to be for most outdoor purposes, but that’s not a watch I’d wear cliff jumping and you still don’t have a timing bezel.

Cliff jumping into Lake Superior with the Seiko SPB213.

And then there is the matter of luminescence, surely a critical feature of any watch when it will be serving as your only timepiece in the backcountry. Unsurprisingly, the Seiko absolutely shines here. It’s really difficult to imagine getting more lume for your buck than with even an entry level Seiko, so of course the SPB213 did not disappoint.

Lake Michigan at about an hour past sunset. Crawl into the tent at 11 pm or so, and the SPB213 will still be readable at 6 AM.

The watch, itself.

There are legit watch journalists who have covered the details of the SPB213, so I’m going to gloss over its backstory. It’s a 40 mm watch, which uses a retro-inspired Seiko diver case, the finishing of which punches way above its weight class. The case shape, as well as its dial and handset, are inspired by Seiko’s first dive watch, the 62MAS (hallowed be its name), and lack the cartoonish proportions and shapes that so many of Seiko’s popular divers seem to feature. Here there are no jumbo cases, no bloated hands with exaggerated arrowheads, no XL indices. The watch presents itself relatively slimly on the wrist and is for all intents and purposes perfectly sized and proportioned for most wrist sizes.

Stopping at a farm stand for peaches. The Seiko wears well on any wrist size.

The date window at 3 o’clock is tastefully plain, if not plainly tasteful, and the silvery sun ray dial is gorgeous. If you’re looking for a snow white dial, shop elsewhere, as the SPB213’s dial is definitely a warm argentum. By far my favorite feature of this watch has got to be the bezel. It’s black, but shines blue. It’s steel, but looks like ceramic. And its 120 detent motion feels like a friction bezel and a click bezel had puppies; quite frankly, it is the best elapsed time rotating bezel I’ve ever used.

The excellent bezel. Like a mood ring, sometimes it’s blue, sometimes it’s black.

Two seemingly minor details, which seem a bit at odds with each other in terms of the attention to detail they reflect, are the plain, unsigned crown, and the drilled lugs (!). First, the crown. It’s a handsome screw-down thing, very reminiscent of that on the 62MAS, except for one little detail — it isn’t signed. I’ve owned many way-cheaper Seikos and they’ve all had at least the snaky S logo on the crown. And the 62MAS itself, hallowed be its name, had a very tasteful SEIKO on its crown. So, this seems like Seiko cheaping out a bit on a $1200 watch, and is also in direct contrast to my second favorite feature, the drilled lugs.

Slim, handsome profile of the SPB213. Note the plain crown but gloriously drilled-thru lugs.

If you are a drilled lugs fan, and you should be, then you can rejoice in the SPB213 not only because it has them, but, what’s more, the holes themselves are of generous dimension, meaning you can use the beefiest shoulderless strap bars in them. Go ahead, fasten your Seiko with some fat-ended shoulderless bars on a nylon NATO strap and jump off the highest cliffs you can find. Your watch will not leave your wrist, at least not unless your wrist leaves with it. Even if this isn’t your thing, at least you have the ability to quickly and easily change your straps without worrying about scratching up the inside surfaces of the lugs. Yay for drilled lugs!

The trip, itself.

I hacked the Seiko to atomic time on Sunday night and on Monday morning we departed our northern lower peninsula jumping off point at Higgins Lake, about 100 miles south of the Mackinac Bridge. (Psst, if you' aren’t from Michigan, I’ll just give you this little tip — Mackinac is pronounced “mackinaw.”)

The Mackinac Bridge is one of my favorite all-time things, and inspires pride in my own choice of an engineering career every time I cross it. It was constructed from 1954 to 1957, and connects the two peninsulas of Michigan, the lower and the upper, across the Mackinac Straits. Its chief design engineer was the son of Jewish immigrants, a genius named David Steinman, who considered the Mackinac Bridge his crowning achievement, although he designed hundreds of bridges in at least a dozen countries. A gifted orator, Steinman’s contemporaneous speeches about the bridge are poetry itself, and in fact he became a published poet much later in life. Listening to him talk about the bridge will give chills to any Michigander or bridge-freak.

The Mackinac Bridge. Image (c) Jon M. Brouwer, Associated Press.

Following US2 westward along the southern edge of the U.P. affords amazing views of Lake Michigan. We stopped at a farm stand to buy peaches and blueberries and then spent the next two nights camped right on Lake Michigan in two different State Forest Campgrounds. These campgrounds are our favorite way to camp in our state. They are small (just 4-12 sites typically) and rustic, and with no services, the big rigs, RV’s, and 5th wheels stay away. You can’t reserve them, and often just have to know where they are. They are usually quite off the beaten path, but access is typically Subaru-friendly and doesn’t require additional 4WD capability.

Clockwise from upper left: Lake Michigan beach, the Seiko swimming, enjoying a beer on the beach, and typical Michigan State Forest Campground site.

Wednesday brought an impromptu trip across the border to Wisconsin to visit a dear friend, and we were reminded of just how many charming tiny taverns dot our neighboring Great Lakes state. Some unwritten rule says that every Wisconsin tavern must have either a PBR or Old Style sign. Works for me.

A note to all my badger friends — I concede the tavern capital of the world thing, but trying to steal our moniker as the Mitten State crosses the line.

Formerly Bert’s Bar, now Fisher’s Tavern, on Lake George near Rhinelander, Wisconsin.

Thursday brought us back to Michigan to resume our no-agenda plan of exploring waterfalls and finding interesting, dispersed campsites, and boy, did we hit the jackpot. In contrast to our favorite State Forest Campgrounds, we were glad to be in the Jeep for its simple and robust body-on-frame architecture and low-range 4WD. The BF Goodrich KO2’s I put on it kept our adventures through the mud, sand, and rock of the Upper Peninsula from becoming misadventures. We spent four incredible nights camped right on the shore of Lake Superior in three different places along the Keweenaw Peninsula, and never once saw another vehicle, much less other campers.

The red sandstone is characteristic of the central part of the Keweenaw Peninsula.

By the middle of our second week on the road we decided to pamper ourselves a bit so we checked into the Laurium Manor Inn, a highly recommendable experience (this was not the place where I used the Seiko to time the bad service). Laurium shares an indistinguishable border with Calumet, a city famous for its 19th century sandstone architecture. If you go, I can recommend the beer and food at the Michigan House Cafe, which shares space with Red Jacket Brewing.

The Laurium Manor Inn and Michigan House Cafe.

After a lovely visit in Calumet, we found one more dispersed camping site in a State Forest right on Lake Superior. We liked it so much we stayed two nights, and again, we felt we had the lake all to ourselves. We spent the time swimming, sunbathing on giant rocks, and exploring the hidden coves along the rugged Lake Superior coast. The sky was a bit hazy from the western forest fires thousands of miles away, but we still managed to see eagles and loons above and below us.

With the mildly depressing thought of being more than halfway through our vacation, we packed up from this little summer paradise, the coolest camping spot I’ve ever seen, much less found on my own. There was just one more vacation bucket list stop to make, and that was a visit to the City of Marquette. Although the U.P. has more than a few nice towns, Marquette is undoubtedly the crown jewel of the Upper Peninsula. We met friends in an urban camping park for an overnight, and explored what the city has to offer. No visit to Marquette is complete without a jump off the Black Rocks, so the next morning, we parked the Jeep and made the short hike to the jumping spot.

Clockwise from upper left: don’t contemplate too long, jumping, capturing the Seiko 20 feet down, surfacing.

The end of our second week is upon us and at last the time to return home has come. We joke about the urge to “call in retired,” enjoy the drive east through this amazing Michigan landscape and cross the Mighty Mac again, this time heading south. It’s good to get back to Higgins Lake, and the next morning, to try and make it up to the Land Rover, we head to our favorite breakfast spot where I check the timekeeping of the Seiko against atomic time. Over 14 days it has averaged a loss of 4.6 sec/day. Although I’d rather it had gained at this same rate, I must admit this isn’t too shabby for a $1200 watch that has seen honest use.

Mel’s Pine Pantry, Higgins Lake, Michigan.

As luck would have it, only a week before we left on our trip, my Tudor AD friend texted to say he had a blue Black Bay Fifty-Eight on bracelet in stock and did I want it? Did I?! He offered a great trade against my Black Bay Steel, and I couldn’t resist. It arrived just days before we left, and I confess it was difficult to put the Seiko back on for our departure. But within moments, the Seiko’s charms had recast their spells on me and I was in road trip bliss for the next two weeks with just one simple watch that never left my wrist. Sure, the Tudor is a little finer, a little classier, and will probably prove a better timekeeper. But it ought to, given that it costs three times what the little Seiko-that-could costs. And honestly, given the extreme use a good camping watch sees, the Seiko is probably a better fit for this style of travel.

Sunset over the Keweenaw Peninsula on the last day of July, 2021.

As a closing thought, I am extremely impressed with the Seiko’s durability. I’ve never been the type to baby a watch, yet after two weeks of 24/7 wear, no amount of rain, dirt, sand, swimming, driving, diving, loading, packing, splitting, and just living in the Seiko produced any visible wear. I have to think that whatever Seiko’s proprietary Diashield coating is, it works. Only a fit of madness could make me sell this watch, which already feels like an old friend.

This concludes my two-part post on the Seiko SPB213. Thanks for following along, and as always I welcome your comments and factual corrections below.