Swimming with Great White Sharks!

Great White Sharks... the name alone is enough to send shivers up your spine, so would you intentionally jump in and swim with them!? Rob Woodburn recently took the plunge in Gainsbaai, South Africa, and sent in a great account of the experience. Read on to find out what it's like to come eye-to-eye with these fearsome fish!

 

After a morning spent getting up close and almost too personal with great white sharks we return to dry land to hear dramatic news of two shark attacks at home.

Unaware Australia was gripped by fear, we’d willingly dived into the chilly Atlantic waters off South Africa specifically to get as close as possible to the world's largest predatory fish.

 

Being face-to-face with Jaws is the big thrill of cage driving in Gansbaai, about two hour’s drive from Cape Town. To get within kissing distance of the most fearsome mouth in the known universe surely ranks as crazy, maybe even suicidal. But the chance of seeing such fearsome creatures in their natural environment lures hundreds of adventurous travellers each year to the “great white shark capital of the world”.

A great white typically weighs between 700kg and a ton, with a length of four to five metres. Gansbaai’s claim to fame is the regular presence and close proximity of these ultimate marine predators. Weather permitting, local cage dive operators practically guarantee sightings, often confirmed within minutes of leaving the slipway.

Nowhere else are these awesome sharks found so close to the shore. Great whites can be seen in False Bay, much closer to Cape Town, but there you have cover longer distances by boat with a lesser chance of a successful sighting.

 

The continuous presence of sharks in Gansbaai is based on rich feeding grounds around Dyer Island, a major penguin breeding ground six kilometres offshore. The adjacent Geyser Rock is home to about 60,000 Cape fur seals. Between them runs a five-metre deep channel, christened Shark Alley.

 

Our dive day starts early at The Great White House near the slipway in the hamlet of Kleinbaai where we are kitted with red waterproof coats and orange life jackets and attend an audio-visual briefing on sharks, the local ecology and what the day might bring. Then we troop down the road to board the Shark Fever, a 20-passenger purpose-built catamaran.

 

Within 20 minutes of leaving harbour we have dropped anchor in the bay. We are close to a couple of other dive boats and I overhear our skipper swearing vehemently in Afrikaans. It seems cage diving is an extremely territorial business.

 

We spend risible minutes struggling into wet suits, our pained efforts both hilarious and exhausting as we stagger about a heaving deck half-dressed in rubber while bouncing off total strangers. Finally we are zipped up with facemasks secure and ready to descend into the wire cage that’s lashed to the side of the boat.

 

Meanwhile, a crew member has been mashing up chum, an evil looking, foul smelling mixture of fish guts, blood and tuna oil which, sprinkled into the sea, will attract sharks to the boat. When a Great White shows up a massive hunk of fish, also tied to a rope, is used to lure it close to the cage. The sharks are never intentionally fed although, occasionally, one manages to steal the bait.

 

We gasp in shock on entering the cold Atlantic. Water temperatures can be as low as 7C. Our first moments in the cage are spent being thrown about by the swell while inadvertently gulping mouthfuls seawater and panicking over where we should place our hands and feet. Eventually we relax and grasp an inside rail to steady ourselves.

 

Marine biologist Alison Towner yells instructions. “On my command, take a deep breath and duck underwater”. Fellow diver Tamara shouts back, “How on earth do I hold my breath when I’m already holding it?”

 

We hear Alison’s command, “Down! Dive!” and push ourselves beneath the surface. Visibility is poor, a world of dark, gloomy green out of which a black shape instantly materialises, a shadow that sweeps past in a flash and is gone. Within moments the shark reappears from an entirely different direction, sending a shiver down my spine. It makes yet another silent pass just outside the cage with one baleful eye regarding me malevolently, or so I think.

 

We break the surface, gasping for air and gushing with excitement, while frantically checking that our hands and legs haven’t accidently slipped through the squares of the cage! Almost immediately there’s another shout from above so we push ourselves down again to see a different shark, much larger, bearing down on us. Its tail lashes the cage as it sweeps by. Our underwater exclamations rise to the surface in a profusion of bubbles.

 

The Great White heads back towards us, swimming so close that I can see every minute detail, down to tiny gashes in its mottled grey skin. Had it opened its gigantic mouth I’m sure all four of us in the cage would instantly have succumbed to mutual heart attack.

 

We spend about 15 minutes in the cage during which several sharks swim close and eye us languidly. It’s not until we start climbing out of the cage that things become hectic.

 

As Rob hauls himself up the ladder a great white suddenly snags the tethered bait and instantly surges toward the boat, its fearsome mouth agape exposing rows of razor-sharp serrated teeth. Jaws alive!

 

Rob executes the fastest cage exit yet recorded at Gansbaai. The commotion is over in an instant yet the vivid memory of that moment will surely last each of us a lifetime!

 

You can join the fun on i-to-i's Great White shark monitoring project.

 

 

 

©  Rob Woodburn 2009

 

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