Shark Practice

Cape Town stadium at daybreak

Woken by a text message after 8am, I'm shamed into leaping into action:  the weather is fantastic and Cape Town is out there to be explored - what am I doing still asleep?!   Breakfast on the beach?  A horse ride?  A winelands tour?

I give my bike a lie in and a taxi drops me at the foot of Table Mountain.  For a moment I contemplate the climb, a steep 3.5 hour effort that would earn me a big lunch.  But I don't have time: I'm on a quick visit for the cable car ride, before another pick-up at 11.30am.   Right now, there's no queue and the rotating basket whisks twenty tourists up the sheer cliff edge to the table top.

It's chilly up here, suddenly 1,087m above sea level on the wind-swept massif.  To the north, over the dramatic drop-off, lies the city.  The low winter sun makes me squint as I pick out the land marks I already know.  Lion's Head and Signal Hill are rocky edges to this giant amphitheatre, to the west, whilst Devil's Peak rises to the east.  Out at sea I can spot ferries and container ships, and (a few kilometers out) bleak Robben Island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for nearly two decades. 

The mountain is a tremendous 360-degree viewing platform, and I walk briskly around the table's edge for half an hour.  No animals and few flowers at this time of year, but it's a rousing route nevertheless.  Out there, past the western drop off, I can see the Twelve Apostles - cliffs lining a route away towards Cape Point in the distance.  That would make a fine multi-day hike in the right season (although the weather switches in minutes in this region).  On one side the Pacific Ocean, on the other the Atlantic.  Brass plaques pick out just 65 of the many more ships wrecked on the coasts hereabouts.

Robben Island on the horizon.

I've not scheduled any hikes yet - maybe later in the week - and return to the bottom of the cable car, and thence to the apartment.  It's a quick tea break before my pick-up by White Shark Adventures.  Yes, as the name suggests, I've got an appointment with some of those hungry fish.

As 'bucket lists' go, I'm lucky enough to have crossed off many items over the years.  Side trips whilst visiting family in New Zealand, for example, took care of many adrenaline activities.  But getting close to a wild Great White shark has been one thrill I've long wanted to seek out.  It's a dubious ambition, from the environmental / conservation perspective... and I guess my green credentials are compromised.

We shuttle down the coast a couple of hours to the town of Gansbaai.  A quick briefing and then we're thundering out sea in a power-packed boat.  There are only six of us going in the cage, and we eagerly struggle into our thick 7mm wet suits, booties and hoods.  There's a gasp as we each slip into the cold water, but we're quickly distracted as the cage lid clangs shut.

I stare through the murky water for a first sighting - visibility at about 7m.  The smelly chum thrown out by the crew has already attracted plenty of smaller fish, and a few birds.  Tuna heads are tossed out on the end of a long-ish rope, the real bait for the more seriously sized predators.  Or is that us?

And there it is - gulp.  One by one, graceful shapes cut through the water: slow cruising sharks with that unmistakable silhouette.   Each of us pops up to the surface for a gulp of air - we're not using the 'noisy' air hoses - then ducks down for another look.  The creatures are so impressive - sleek, muscled hunters that hurry for no one.  When they ease by the now-so-thin aluminium cage a beady eye fixes on my own and my heart starts pounding loudly.  I check my hands and feet are well inside the cage, but the rolling ocean pitches us against the bars and has me scrambling backwards.

For ten minutes we get a steady roll-call of Great Whites: about seven different adults, most in the 3-4 size, which is plenty.  They can go much bigger, but down here that's big enough, thank you.  My position on the left hand edge of the cage gives me a great view from two sides - 'front' and 'left'.  I can pick out the smallest details on these magnificent creatures.  This is excellent, and for once I'm oblivious to the cold that sends my fingers white in minutes. 

I last another ten minutes: timing each draft of air with the next fly-by of this Top Gun of the sea.  The sharks get closer as the crew start dragging the bait closer to the boat - playing them like you might a dog.  It looks too easy.

From below, a much larger shark is wise to the game.  Too quick for the crew, the 4.5m female snatches the bait before it can be yanked away.  We flinch back as she whips her head side-to-side, rolls and dives.  The rope goes taut and the fight draws the fish into the cage.  Fins vibrate along the bars like a kid running a stick along iron fence railings.  Clenched rows of ragged teeth pass a foot or two from my face and the white belly follows in a flash.  One more whip of the head and the rope is severed - she's gone, with a nice lunch too.

Out of the cage we're all shivering with cold, and chattering about the excellent spectacle.  With a clunk and a clang the 4 x 2 x 2 m cage is hoisted on to the back of the boat, and we're bumping back through the breakers towards the harbour.  Like the Great Whites, this operator is a tough business operator and there's no time to dally.  

This is 'the' season for the sharks, as the nearby island provides ripe pickings of juvenile seal pups - drawing in some 2,500 great white sharks.  Hopefully this spreads the impact of the six cage tour operators with their twice daily trips (weather permitting).  I'm not fully convinced, though, and feel a twinge of guilt.

It's a swift van ride back to Cape Town, and as the sun sets I'm still brimming with adrenaline. I've a healthy respect now for the Perth surfer community that take their chances in the waves off the Australian west coast - another popular shark feeding area.  I'm too chicken to venture outside a cage, but given my lack of surfing ability that's probably a good thing.




(Wait for the video!)