In Honor of Shark Week

In February of 2002, I embarked upon a SCUBA diving vacation to the South Pacific Islands of Fiji. The majority of my stay was upon the totally undeveloped Beqa Island, a few nautical miles south of the main island of Viti Levu. Other than the generators to run basic electrical appliances during the day, we left behind modern living for 7 glorious days. No telephones, no TV, no cars, no computers and no interruptions to whatever we may be doing at the time. Generally, the sound of the wildlife was our music and the sunlight our lamps. Friday was our final day of diving and innocuously started generally the same as the previous days, save for the anticipation that grew within me for the days’ big shark feeding dive.

I awoke predawn to catch the sunrise, as if to emblazon the approaching day in my memory, for I had been waiting 16 years to finally dive with big sharks. I got dressed and walked out to the oceanside hammock in front of our Bure’ for a little contemplation and to fantasize about what it would be like to be in the water with some of the world’s most dangerous sharks. All week long I had been hearing stories from the local Fijian Divemasters about this pinnacle dive. I figured most of what they told us was hyperbole to either boost anticipation or sell more spots on the charter that cost an extra $100. One Divemaster claimed that there would be hundreds of sharks, another claimed some were the size of Great Whites, all the while boasting that thus far nobody had been eaten due to their vigilance. There was no doubt that their dive skills were pretty good, and that they knew the area better than anyone since this was their waters. In my mind it was difficult to separate the fact from their fiction; I nonetheless let my mind wander as my eyes saw the first rays of sunlight strike the water. Other than a few brief encounters with some smaller and medium sized sharks the preceding days, and one close call the day before, I had no real basis for comparison other than what I had read or seen on the Discovery channel. Then my mind drifted to the close call a day earlier.

We were diving a fairly large, oval shaped reef on the outskirts of Beqa Lagoon, in open waters away from the shallower and more protected areas. As usual we entered the ocean as a group, then split into smaller buddy pairs for individual exploration since this was mostly an unguided dive. Basically, the reef was a giant coral mountain, several hundred feet long, about 60 feet wide and about 90 feet tall. We started at the tip of the oval and slowly worked our way around, checking out squid, eels and the diverse populations of colorful fish. Normally I had been carrying my videocamera, filming whatever would catch my eye, so I usually buddied with my camera. This dive I was tired of limiting the dive to my viewfinder vision, missing half of the sights to behold, so I left the camera back on the boat and tagged along with Rod and Tara, two divers I had gone on several previous dives with.

Visibility was fairly poor, only about 30-40 feet at a depth of 50 feet, and worsened the deeper we dove due to the open ocean currents running past the coral outcropping. Rod went in one direction to check something out and Tara and I were fairly content to slowly follow the group around the coral head. After a couple of minutes of Rod being out of our visibility, we went off in the direction he went to catch back up to him. Rod immerged out of the haze, giving us the OK signal and pointed downward and gave the signal for Shark.

Now here a little explanation is in order. Ever since I was 16 and read my first book by Ron and Valerie Taylor about sharks and their adventures with them, I became an avid shark fan. This trip to Fiji was the first time I was able to swim with sharks and actually see them in real life. Their sleek beauty, their seamless underwater flight, their attitude and their personality instantly mesmerized me. Throughout the entire trip, no matter how small, every time I saw a shark I became possessed. Rational thought was no longer mine. I just wanted to get closer and closer, seeing these magnificent creatures right before me, possibly even reaching out and touching one. As soon as someone from the group spotted a shark, they informed me and like a cartoon character I was off like a flash chasing after the fish as fast as my fins would take me. Contrary to popular myth, sharks are generally pretty skittish, and swim off upon seeing a diver unless they become territorial. Though, no matter how much effort I gave the chase – the shark would always manage to elude me with ease and swim into the deep blue haze before my curiosity was satiated. It became sort of a running joke with the other divers about the sharks and myself – a love affair they called it.

So, after Rod flashed me the shark hand signal, I instantly descended down to where he had pointed. We were about 50 feet deep when we regrouped with Rod. 60 feet down – no shark, 70 feet down –no shark, but then around 80 feet I thought I could just barely make out his tail fin disappearing into the murk. He swam away from the coral mountain towards the open ocean. Fully possessed, I couldn’t turn back and continued in hot pursuit. Visibility was down to only about 15-20 feet at that depth, but I could see the sandy ocean floor about 10 feet below me. No matter how fast I swam, I could just make out his shape in the distance and then he would disappear again into the gloom. Finally about 100 yards from the coral head he slowed enough for me to catch a good look at him. At first I thought he was an unusually large grey reef shark, but as I got closer I realized he was a bull shark. This fellow must have been between 8 and 10 feet long, with the classic frown shape of the mouth. Bull sharks have the rare ability to swim in both fresh and salt water. They are also known for their aggressiveness and willingness to attack people as well as other sharks. My excitement and enthusiasm got the better of me and I swam closer. Of all the dives to not take my videocamera! Then I noticed that he wasn’t alone. “Cool” I thought, “he’s got a buddy.” Make that plural. I couldn’t believe my luck. 3 bull sharks only about 10-15 feet away from me. Suddenly, my pupils dilated in disbelief at the sight of yet another shark - and another. I began to get the feeling that perhaps I was duped into this chase.

Looking at my dive computer revealed that I was 85 feet down and only had about 1,000 p.s.i. of air left in my tank. What my computer did not reveal was that I could now count at least 10 bull sharks, larger than me by a body length, and starting to come closer for a look. I was alone, several hundred yards away from the dive boat, and breathing air like it was free. My, how suddenly the tables had turned. The novelty of the situation started to wane. Like humans, the sharks felt a little bolder in the presence of friends and started to investigate by coming even closer. One buzzed me, swimming fast and close. Time to leave. Rational thought returned to me like a slap in the face.

Over the years since I found my lust for adventure and sharks, I’d read that there are several things that you do not do when surrounded by sharks. First, like most animals, sharks can sense fear, or at least react to it – so don’t panic or act scared when faced by a shark. Second, sudden, jerky movements have the tendency to convey fear or being wounded, so being jittery around a shark is another no-no. Third, simply don’t turn your back on a shark, for they will think you are fleeing and can strike without you knowing it. Reviewing my options seemed rather immediate at that moment. Obviously, I was running low on air and had to return quickly, though not so quickly as to make a tasty morsel for my new found friends. Emboldened by their numbers, the bulls swam closer and in all directions around me. OK, no one ever explained to me how not to turn your back to a group of sharks when they surround you. To put it mildly, my heart rate began to increase, in turn causing my breathing to hasten. Now only 800 p.s.i. left in my tanks.

Perhaps as redemption for my lack of common sense that had gotten me into the situation in the first place, a rather wild idea occurred to me. I descended the last few feet to the ocean floor, eliminating one avenue of approach. I flipped over, swimming upside down, thus keeping my back against the sandy bottom, and calmly began to make my way back to the coral mountain. That upside-down swim back to the outcropping was one of the most interminable times of my life as I inched my way back to safety, careful to make my movements smooth and confident. Thankfully, this seemingly odd behavior worked quite effectively, save for the fact that the sharks continued to encircle me, moving as I moved.

Now, every once in awhile, comes those moments in life that you would give a good years’ salary to be able to capture on film. One would definitely be the look on Rod and Tara’s face when they saw me casually swimming towards them, upside down, surrounded by around 10 fairly large bull sharks. About the time I reached the coral head and made my ascent to my dive buddies, a school of skipjack tuna was carried by, riding the currents that flowed downstream. Much to the appreciation of Rod and Tara, the sharks traded their interests from me to the tuna. When we returned to the dive boat, my tanks nearly empty, we had quite the story to tell. Little did I know that the very next day would dwarf this experience in comparison.