8 minute read
Adventure
Of all the things to enjoy in South Africa, lowering yourself into shark-infested waters probably isn’t top of the list. Driving around Cape Town’s spectacular peninsula in a convertible? Definitely. Touring the lush, green wine region of Stellenbosch, stopping for the obligatory lunch at a 17thcentury vineyard? Absolutely.
Now, what about eyeballing nature’s number one predator? Not an appealing prospect? Start humming the theme tune to Jaws and think of that cold, dead eye stalking you, the broken teeth dripping with rotting flesh. Still not tempted?
Shark diving is one of the latest ‘got-todo’ activities – a test of manhood, part of a wildlife tour – and guaranteed to provide rich fodder for anecdotes, just so long as you don’t become fodder yourself.
It’s popular in the Bahamas, where if you’re feeling brave, like the Broncos’ George Milford Haven, you can witness ‘feeding time’. Jack Kidd is another polo man to reveal a taste for shark diving.
I’m following in the wake of Brad Pitt and Prince Harry to see the mother of all sharks, the Great White. The place to do it is South Africa. My wife, perhaps quite unsurprisingly, given the presence of our three-month-old son, was not so keen to join me, not even on the boat.
We moor in a place known as ‘shark alley’ off Gansbaai, about 120 miles east of Cape Town. It’s a narrow channel between two islands, both about a mile offshore, one of which is home to a colony of 50,000 seals. It’s also a favourite feeding ground for hundreds of migrating Great Whites.
After dropping anchor, the process of ‘chumming’ begins. Parts of tuna and other fish are tossed overboard to attract the sharks. Suddenly the excitement onboard is palpable; the first shark has been spotted and is circling us. The shark cage is lowered into the water and fastened to the boat at four points. I can’t help noticing that a couple of the steel mesh bars are bent.
Now is the time to jump in. The water is cold, reaching up to my neck. The cage is large enough for five of us. We’re then briefed: the skipper and crew will lure sharks with the bait and shout, ‘Down!’ when one approaches. None of us has scuba gear; we just hold our breath and go under.
Unlike the film Jaws, where the cage dangles at the end of a cable, ours doesn’t move. It remains wedded to the boat. This is infinitely safer. It means, should anything go wrong, the crew can grab and haul you back on board. This happened only recently to a British tourist, we’re told, when a shark bit through the cage’s flotation device.
My heart is already pumping and the adrenaline is coursing through my body when I hear the command I’ve been waiting for: ‘Down! Down! Down!’ shouts the skipper. Sometimes only a four-letter word will do, and this is one of those times. I mutter it silently to myself as the predator appears from the abyss. More expletives start to follow as the full might of the ocean’s greatest hunter turns and heads straight towards me. Coming closer and closer, its giant, toothsome mouth opening and closing as if in anticipation, this is Carcharodon carcharias, the Great White Shark.
All that’s between me and the infamous teeth, now 12 inches from my face, is the mesh of the cage. I’m transfixed, eyes like saucers. But it’s awe, induced by wonder.
‘People expect to find a mindless eating machine that just attacks everything and everyone,’ says Morné Hardenberg, our shark-diving guide. ‘But they go away with a different perception.’ The Great White is an incredible creature. Over 400 million years, it has evolved into the ocean’s largest predator, a sleek, torpedo-shaped hunting machine equipped with sensors that can pick up the electromagnetic pulses that every living thing beneath the sea produces. Its colouring is ideal for the hunter. It’s surely no accident that it has been copied by military aircraft: the light underbelly to blend with the surface, the darker steel-blue top side that makes it hard to spot from above and broken lines of contrast which cunningly complete the camouflage.
Anyone who appreciates the grace and beauty of riding nature’s greatest athlete
Shark alley Just off Gansbaai, about 120 miles east of Cape Town, is an island that’s home to a colony of 50,000 seals. It’s also a feeding ground for hundreds of migrating Great Whites
will appreciate this. Shark diving trades on being an ‘extreme’ experience, but really it isn’t so different from viewing big game on safari – with one exception. You won’t struggle with a pair of binoculars, as one does in the bush, when a guide points out a lion in the grass: ‘Where? Where? I can’t see it…’ Here the experience is intense and close up, the fear more imagined than real.
You are more likely to die falling down the stairs than from an encounter with a Great White. Before he died, earlier this year, Peter Benchley, the author of Jaws, regretted his demonisation of the creature in his book and campaigned for its conservation.
Since it began, about 10 years ago, cage diving has become more and more popular. But not everyone is so enthusiastic. Many locals accuse the South African diving operators of encouraging sharks to enter waters where humans usually swim by the chumming or baiting process. Although attacks are rare (about four a year for the whole of South Africa), they do happen. A few weeks before my arrival a British surfer nearly lost his leg to a shark in Cape Town, and two years ago an elderly swimmer was killed by a shark in the same bay.
But diving operators say chumming only attracts sharks that are already in the area. ‘Chumming has got nothing to do with it,’ says Rutzen, ‘We chum with animals that occur naturally. Chum where there are no sharks and you don’t get any.’ Some locals may disagree but it’s a view supported by many shark environmentalists.
Incredible as it is, seeing the Great White isn’t the only shark-diving experience out there. To be honest, it can often feel a little contrived, like viewing game alongside dozens of open-topped Land Rovers. And it can get busy on the water, with several cage operators out there at once. Seeing sharks while actually diving can provide far greater excitement. I recall the shock-and-wow factor of being overtaken by a dozen reef sharks off the coast of Mozambique a few years ago. I nearly consumed my entire oxygen supply on the spot.
The Bahamas are also a good place to see sharks in their natural environment. George Milford Haven can vouch for this, having experienced ‘feeding time’ off Nassau with an American friend. After picking up the ‘shark feeder’, who was dressed in a full chain-mail suit, they dropped anchor at Stuart Cove. ‘The feeder told us to dive down, kneel on the bottom and put our hands underneath our armpits because they look like bits of food to sharks. “I’ll be down in a minute,” the guy told us. It was pretty alarming. I didn’t know what to expect. I had to get in the water with all these sharks circling below. God, my heart was beating fast!’ recalls Milford Haven.
His wife Clare remained onboard, and after putting the final touches to his chain suit, the feeder jumped in holding a crate filled with dead fish. ‘He descended like a bullet,’ recalls Milford Haven. ‘He knelt 10 feet in front of us and put out his hands with the dead fish. Within seconds we had 40 sharks circling around us going crazy. It was an extraordinary experience. You could feel the power of them going past and the force of the displaced water.’
The sharks were mostly Whitetip Reef sharks, six to eight feet long. ‘Fortunately,’ adds Milford Haven, ‘the sharks were only interested in the food.’ But at one point curiosity got the better of him, and against advice he touched one of the sharks. It was just like sandpaper,’ he says.
The same happens to me in Cape Town. A shark swims past our cage and I can’t resist touching its rubbery skin. We surface to a strict telling off. ‘No touching,’ shouts skipper Frank, ‘they are not puppy dogs.’
I don’t need reminding with the next shark. It heads right for me, bashes the cage and starts chomping on the bars, inches away. Scared? Too right I am – I can’t hug the back of the cage hard enough. DETAILS The best time to see Great Whites in Gansbaai is from April to September. A day’s shark-cage diving costs £100 with Shark Diving Unlimited, tel: 0027 28 384 2787; www.sharkdivingunlimited.com
To try shark diving in the Bahamas, contact Stuart Cove’s Dive Bahamas, tel: 001 954 524 5755; www.stuartcove.com (cost £75).
The following companies also offer shark diving: www.sharkbookings.com; tel: 0871 474 1821 (worldwide); www.downhilladventures.com; tel: 00 27 21 422 0388 (Gansbaai); www.planetdive.co.uk; tel: 0870 749 1959 (worldwide); www.divequest.co.uk; tel: 01254 826 322 (worldwide)
Nose for adventure Close encounter of the Great White kind, from behind the bars of a safety cage (above)
Going down George Milford Haven gets a little closer. But watch out for those hands –divers are advised to keep them tucked away, as to sharks they look like tasty snacks (left)
