A large ominous shadow loomed about two metres away. Then a roll and the distinct white belly. I was in striking distance of man’s most feared predator. How, you might ask, did I — not known among my friends and foes for a love of danger — end up there? After a sprightly 5am pick-up from Greenmarket Square, it was a two-hour drive east along the coast, beyond the whale-watching capital of Hermanus past lovely lagoons and mountains pink in the soft light of dawn. Once again, I was overawed by the majesty of “God’s own country”.
Bleary-eyed, we had dined the previous evening at Jardine’s at which our American friends suggested, kind of amusingly, could be a last supper. On arrival, as we signed our lives away, there was a generous breakfast spread of muffins, pastries, fruits and yoghurt and we, wisely as it turned out, took a motion sickness tablet.
Gansbaai, a pretty town of brightly coloured houses, is the shark-watching capital of the country. The fear of being eaten alive by a shark is primordial. Capetonians experienced a collective “shiver up the spine” five years ago when Tyna Webb, a 77-year-old, was taken by a great white on a morning swim at Fish Hoek.
As we headed for the reef the water was aqua green. Whitecaps patterned the waves like children at play, racing the swells to be the first out to shore. Seated on the upper deck we were spared most of the spray as the boat cleaved a path through the sea. The smell of the water and the choppy progress of the boat made us feel like children on an adventure. Everyone had open smiles, joking among themselves as they prepared mentally for the excursion into that great unknown element.
The skipper, the well-known Brian Mcfarlane, manoeuvred the boat expertly so that the cage would be protected from the worst of the swells and we would have an optimal chance of viewing our antediluvian brethren. Within a minute or two of the chum being released, we saw, just like in the Jaws movies, the first dorsal fin rise and break the surface in the early morning light like the periscope of a submarine. We held our breath in hushed expectation and pumping adrenaline. And the fin just cruised on by, apparently oblivious to our breakfast offering.
We weren’t prepared for the raw beauty of these creatures when they did appear. Svelte, streamlined and graceful. One elegantly shimmered away from the cage on its side staring upwards like a ballerina doing a little pirouette. The frenzied threshing is, most of the time, for attacks and Hollywood. Like us, each one is unique-looking too. One of the large females was battle-scarred and bloodied with serrated hunks of flesh ripped out. Another was a prize specimen. A male, perfectly formed, unblemished and the gleaming black of a new sports car.
Around the cage, they executed a perfect 180-degree turn using their tails as rudders. I read recently that great whites have been seen, when determined to secure the bait and suitably angry, to emerge entirely from the ocean and use the ballast of their tail to effectively walk — you’ve seen it in the cartoons — on the ocean surface towards the bait — and baiter.
Nathan went into the cage with the first batch and came eyeball to eyeball with a huge female. He mused that we had been told not to touch the sharks but we were not told what to do when the shark used its body as a ram against the cage and its lateral fin scored across his hands and chest. I have a photograph of the beast whacking the cage with its tail as she swam past.
We had been told that sharks can recognise the smallest electric signature, like a heartbeat in the water far away. A perturbing thought as you are lowered into the top hatch of the cage that heaves in time to the treacherous water. Nathan describes the experience:
- “While I was in the water I first had to come to grips with the limits of my new environment. A four-metre cage doesn’t seem like a lot of space when crowded in with six other people, but you soon forget all about that when you catch your first glimpse of a dark shadow making its way toward you. Gert, the man on board pulling the bait on a rope to lure in the shark was shouting excitedly for us to dive so with a short gasp for breath I hauled myself underneath.
“An enormous mouth gapes open and all you see are teeth. The shock of it is enough to make you reactively hurl yourself backwards, but there is no escape in this small cage. You watch in a fascinated calm terror as that orifice bears down on you. With an agile movement it is gone. You see the grey side slide away in the periphery of your vision to somewhere behind you, back into the unconscious mind of an uncharted sea. Spluttering I rose from the sea and unfortunately taking a large swig of chum-flavoured salt water, but in my excitement I hardly noticed. Gert told us to dive again, almost immediately. This time I went under prepared.
“The same large female was back making for the cage, but this time she slowed down just before ramming into us. She knew we were there, she was looking at us. There was a moment sundered from time, when the soft pink membrane protecting her eye peeled back and revealed the black depths there. She slowed down, listening for my heartbeat, but in that moment it was silent, the beating stopped. I wish I could claim some communication, some understanding between us, but there was none. We recognised one another, I in the cage wrought of logic and man-made ‘otherness’ and her out there still a part of the great natural order. I can never say what she thought of me or if I even impinged on her consciousness as something more than a potential meal. But there was a moment when our eyes met and I forgot everything around us. Then she swam off into depths where I could not follow her.”
We call them murderous, stealthy, man-killer, but these are words that mean nothing in the sea. The salty water has a way of dissolving those distinctions, they are only names we have been calling each other for centuries. These artificial constructs mean nothing to that mistress of the ever present “now”.
By the time I went for the dive myself, my fear had evaporated. My main problem was pulling on the wetsuit as I felt queasy and weak from motion sickness. Five of our fellow passengers went back to shore early. They were literally unable to stomach the brave breakfasts they had had on shore. The cold blue green water of the Indian Ocean actually felt like a cool tonic when I descended into the cage. I had four or five sightings. A large ominous shadow looms first. Then a roll and the distinct white belly. They silently passed the cage within touching distance with their jaws slightly ajar. Although the dive is exhilarating, the shark-viewing is definitely better from the top of the boat where one can clearly see the entire torpedo silhouette.
An old man in his late eighties or early nineties gamely climbed into the cage, his anxious children shouting “pull your leg in dad”. We all clapped loudly when we saw him emerge from the cage on the post-dive DVD watching. He — as well as our new great white friends — was the undisputed star of the day.
Written with Nathan Savage
I did the same trip with the same crowd. Great day out.
I can not, and never will, agree with chumming. Its a despicable practice, this chumming and cage diving. If you want to do it – do it RIGHT – go face to face with the sharks off Pinnacles in Mozambique or in Aliwal Shoal – sans cage. Go sit 30 meters under water while they come so close to you that you can reach out and stroke the, if you had the balls. Hover under water while they come and sniff at you, asking “who are you and what are you doing here?” look at these creatures as they feed naturally mere meters away from you, so close you can hear their jaws snap, and you know, that if this guy decides you are lunch, then you are lunch, and the only thing keeping you safe is your respect for the predator and willingness not to goad them into action.
THEN you have a story to tell of a real experience, not some canned experience that leaves the Sharks traumatised and the water unsafe for everyone. Like Tyna Webb, for example.
Chumming actively conditions sharks to attack humans, and in my not so humble opinion, this practice should be stopped immediately. Its just plain unethical. If you want to see them sharks, go on a course, get experienced, and meet them on their own turf – if you dare.
Chumming is great. Best thing since barracuda heads. I’ll take my chances with “traumatising” those poor fragile little beasties.
(And no evidence for your proposition about the threat to humans btw)
I have seen programs that say this is harmful to the stability to the so called order of nature. On the otherhand the educational aspect ought to have some value.
Discussion among sharks cruising not too far from the human cage underwater:
Great White Female:”Hey Big Jaws, did you see that the zoo is back again, and its the same bunch of humans offering themselves up for our viewing… They are soo ugly, who wants to see that?”
Big Jaws says: “Yep, I saw the cage. Not to worry, we’ll get them along the beaches. Easy pickings there…”
Great White Female: “I never had the taste for human really. Too much unhealthy fat. I’ll take tuna any day”
Big Jaws: “Same here. I just love the look on their faces, and the smell of fear… Hmmm… That gets me going every time. Makes me want to take a nible just for the love of it… Its warmer today, forget the zoo, lets get near the coastline”
Melanie, the chumming happens miles offshore and a few miles from an island with tens of thousands of seals on it. This is where all those “breaching” pictures are taken of sharks snaffling lunch. On the opposite bank are thousands of penguins – light snacks.
The chumming causes the sharks to have a bit of a walkabout to see what fresh carcass in the neighbourhood smells so appealing.
No “stability” is disturbed.
I don’t care too much for the educational aspect. It’s entertainment and it’s economically viable business that is good for tourism.
Sharks will survive because humans find it appealing to allow them to survive – for human reasons of entertainment or economic benefit.
Not because of some insufferably holier-than-thou collective of miseryguts whinging about the natural order of things. Or how we should all know our place and how anyone who disagrees with miseryguts-r-us is really terribly naughty and should be marooned in a forest with a tiger.
The battle has been fought and miseryguts lost. That is why you don’t have lions roaming the streets of Sandton. The only lions that survive do so on our sufferance. Ditto elephants. And ditto, to the extent that we can execute on our will, white sharks.
If we want white sharks to survive we should ensure that humans find their existence worthwhile. Or they will be killed. (The shark diving companies incidentally killed sharks before it became economically viable to protect them.)
One flew: PLENTY evidence. Case in point: In November a man was killed by a shark at Ponto do Ouro in Mozambique by a shark. The reason: chumming – a film crew was chumming there for a few weeks for a documentary. Suddennly, divers became food – this was never the case before chumming.
Enjoyable read. Pics would be nice, but I’ll leave it to others to experience!
No Gerry, that is called anecdote not evidence.
For all your information:
A tourist was eaten today at Fish Hoek, while enjoying a break in the chest deep water (if media reports are correct).
The remains of his body has not been found as yet.
As you said. Fishhoek. Home of the submarine. Who needs Nessy? Come on all you likkle Britty football tourists, here kitty, kitty , kitty….
Rest in Pieces. Black humour – White shark. Let’s get all the chummy chummy stuff out of the way. But the most dangerous sharks are still the ones that walk about on land, in pin stripe suits, with gold pens inside.
I feel for the family and friends of this guy in Zim or DRC. What a dramatic way to go.
This may seem callous, but I’m not trying to be. 18 years surfing, diving, swimming and spearfishing in False Bay and the Atlantic, many close calls with johnnies, especially whites, the only ones I know that stick their heads out of the water and look you in the eyes, like a black mamba, which does the same on land. Respect. It’s your time when that great denizen selects you out, just you. Nothing at all you can do when you are in his territory and he decides you’re his next meal. Just like a croc at the river, when the women go down for water, but that happens a heck of a lot more than shark fatalities. Hamba kahle young man. God be with your spirit.
I don’t get the logic of chumming either, whether or not it causes sharks to see humans as food. We wouldn’t dream of allowing people to drag a chunk of meat behind their cars in Kruger Park so they can see lions close up, so why is chumming ok? If people want to dive in cages at Seal Island then they should take their chances as to whether they get to see sharks. Chumming makes it easy for lazy and selfish idiots who don’t give a damn about the consequences for the sharks or other people.
It is ironic that the Fish Hoek attack happened yesterday – less than 24 hours after posting this blog. I do not have knowledge at my disposal of if chumming is neutral or detrimental to this endangered species. I a grateful for the comments posted in widening this debate. Yesterday’s tragedy does speak to all of us of the fragility of life and, in fact, we are not masters of creation – despite our scientific advances.
Chumming is just testosmoron in action.
Sorry Moss, you moral position is entirely confused.
You say you don’t see the “logic” of chumming irrespective of its consequences. That is untrue. You obviously do see the logic of chumming: it is to see sharks.
You then claim that those who chum “don’t give a damn” about consequences to man or beast.
Now does your argument have something to say about such consequences or not? You can’t have it both ways.
Either there are no consequences and you should mind your own business about what people get up to in their own time.
Or there are consequences and you need to argue your case on this basis.
Or you think we don’t know if there are consequences and we therefore need to follow a particular course of action.
Useful link
http://www.fishhoek.com/sharks.html
which has the wiki stats that Lloyd Skinner faced:
‘It is estimated that a person’s chance of getting attacked by a shark is 1 in 11.5 million, and a person’s chance of getting killed by a shark is 1 in 264.1 million. The annual number of people who drown is 3,306, whereas the annual number of shark fatalities is 1. In comparison, humans kill 100 million sharks each year.’