Diving With The Greats

“Utter madness,” I muttered, when listening in on Debbie’s conversation with Chantal as she described her cage diving experience with the great white sharks. My thoughts raced back to my teenage years when the world gripped their seats and screamed their lungs out whilst watching the blockbuster ‘Jaws’. Certain scenes in that movie definitely influenced my attitude towards sharks. I was petrified of them. As are millions around the world. With that in mind, it was time to overcome my fears. What better way to do so than to confront them. Up close. Looking the beast in the eye.

As a rather unusual birthday gift, my two girls escorted me out to Gansbaai. Probably to ensure that I physically boarded the boat without escaping the adventure in store for me. The town of Gansbaai is situated on South Africa’s southern coastline. The approximate two-hour drive from Cape Town presents scenery of splendid proportions. Magnificent mountains. Far-reaching areas of Fynbos – a type of vegetation unique to our Cape region. The protea being the most famous example of this biome. And of course a coastline, utterly commanding in its profound beauty. 

My country. My home. A part of our majestic country which continuously provides us with incredible experiences during our life there. Experiences which money cannot buy. Besides this natural beauty, we have witnessed the birth of baby whales. Listened to the haunting sounds of whales in Walker Bay. Shrieked with sheer delight at the sight of those incredible giants throwing their massive bodies out of the water. Creating a vision never to be forgotten.  That of elegance and power combined. All this magic continues to be part of our day-to-day life in Hermanus – a town situated along this breathtaking route to Gansbaai.

Anticipation of what awaited me and sheer excitement mingled constantly as we followed the coastline to Kleinbaai – the starting point of any dive. A sleepy fishing village. However, during the whale-watching season, the tranquility is transformed into madness with tourists flocking to do what I was about to do. Cage diving with the great white sharks. The area is not only the best place in the world to see the sharks in their natural habitat. The marine life is exceptional.

After a welcoming cup of coffee, I hugged my supportive daughters goodbye. Inviting them to take my place on the boat. Invitation was declined. I headed towards the slipway, from where the shark cage diving boats are launched. Once on board, yet another of my fears confronted me. The ordeal of climbing into a tight-fitting wetsuit. I hate tight clothing. Always have. With a sense of urgency, I danced my way rather forcefully into the protective gear. Then I breathed. It felt good. The suit providing me a sense of controlled comfort.

And so it was, on a freezing cold morning with seas rough and skies dark, I confronted yet another of my many fears. That of turbulent seas. The boat headed out towards Shark Alley. The name itself sending shivers down my spine. Between Dyer island, a protected bird sanctuary, and Geyser Rock, an area exists where a colony of approximately 60 000 Cape Fur seals end up being a constant food source to the sharks. Others have said that seeing a shark leap out of the water to catch a seal is a sight never to be forgotten. We were not fortunate that day.

Fear flooded my veins. Holding me hostage in an icy grip. I watched as my friend Cheryl, went from pale to ghostly white. My feeble attempts at calming myself seemed to be seized by the spray created by the unforgiving dark waters. I forced myself to look at the horizon. Certainly not at the waters surrounding me. Engulfing me. The hard bench on which I sat provided no comfort to my body. “This too shall pass.” My mantra that morning. 

There is something sinister about encouraging people to jump into the sea at the exact moment sharks are spotted. Especially when said sharks are heading in one’s direction. That morning it seemed insane climbing into a metal cage only to submerge myself under the water. Especially as the bait handlers had just emptied large buckets of bloodied fish into the water to lure the sharks closer. Apparently the fish is not actually fed to the sharks. It is simply to invite them closer to the boat. 

Plunging into the icy waters, I gripped the steel bars of the cage to secure myself.  In an attempt to stop my body from shaking. Not from the cold. The water was murky. It felt as though I was in a tumble drier. My focus was to keep myself secure and stable. And to hold my breath.  Seconds later the world stopped. Right before my eyes one of the apex predators of the ocean stared back at me. I recall not knowing which of his eyes to look at. They were so far apart. So massive was this great powerful creature. 

I surfaced to breathe. Gripping even tighter, I hooked my feet under the rail at the bottom of the cage. The one which prevents you from bobbing up to the surface. I wanted to get down and under. And to stay there. I wanted to feel the sensation of absolute wonderment. Of awe. Of witnessing a rare sight. Fear drained from my body. From my mind. Replaced by a deep sense of love. Profound respect. I stared at the great white shark a mere metre from me. 

Silence too had replaced the chilling fear I carried. Complete silence. The tranquility of the moment held me captive. I witnessed first-hand the connection between Man and beast. A connection of mutual respect. Of curiosity. An unforgettable interaction shared with one of the greats of the ocean. One of whose species has been around for more than 70 million years. The great shark moved off gracefully. Gliding through the waters with ease. And immense power. Swimming back towards us three times. Was it that we shared the same curiosity? I wondered.

Recovering from both the rough seas and the freezing cold weather, I cradled my mug of piping hot coffee between my hands. And reminded myself what it was I had learnt from that experience …

Thanks to Karen and Tarryn for sharing one or two of your photos.