| Sharks
circle a shark cage tethered to a boat three miles
off Oahu |
 |
OFF
THE SHORE OF OAHU, Hawaii — It was only when the sharks
had a momentary feeding frenzy 6 feet from me that the
wondrous beauty of Hawaiian nature was eclipsed by a
"what the hell am I doing here?" moment.
I
had surfaced, and so had two big 9-footers, and all that
separated us was the top couple bars of the shark cage in
which I treaded water.
The
sharks thrashed. Saltwater splashed. I looked at the metal
bars, rising just a foot or so above the surface, and the
question arose: Are sharks good jumpers?
I
was about three miles off Oahu’s North Shore on a
"shark encounter" outing aboard the good ship
Kainani. Well, I wasn’t exactly "aboard" at
the moment — I was with two other tourists from the
mainland (call them my encounter group) splashing about
inside an open-topped, 8-foot-square cage held up by
balloon-shaped floats and tethered about 10 feet from the
boat.
We’d
motored 20 minutes out of Haleiwa Harbor. In the light of
dawn, windblown rollers kept the boat — and our masked,
snorkel-spiked heads — bobbing. Beneath us was 800 feet
of the most blueberry-colored water I’d seen outside of
Crater Lake.
And
sharks were everywhere.
Ninety
minutes earlier, my travel alarm beeped me awake in
darkness. As I listened to North Shore roosters crow and
June rain patter outside my rented pool house, my
sleep-deprived brain hatched one clear thought: "What
kind of idiot am I?"
My
wife had found this adventure online and emailed me the
link as a joke. She didn’t think I was this dumb; I
signed right up. The outfitter highly recommended the day’s
first outing, 6:30 a.m., for the calmest waters, so there
I was.
The
rain had stopped and the rising sun peeked from behind
billowing clouds as we bounced our way seaward in the
25-foot Kainani. Ours wasn’t the first shark boat to
leave the harbor.
"We
saw that other boat pulling out, and we thought it was
ours, and my daughter said, ‘Maybe we’re just not
meant to go on this!’" said fellow passenger Carla
Creameans, from San Diego, who quickly professed to our
skipper, Rich Whyte, that she’d been up late partying
and was feeling a little delicate.
"You
want slow and bumpy or fast and bumpy?" Whyte
grinned. We’d been warned that seasickness was a hazard
on this outing.
We’d
just signed the most detailed and graphic legal waiver I’d
ever seen, acknowledging that messing about in a shark
cage can result not only in physical injury or death —
the obvious things — but in "serious emotional
injury."
That
was food for thought during the ride out.
Before
signing up, I did a little checking. On its website, my
chosen outfitter painted itself as dedicated to
environmental education and teaching clients about sharks.
While
there are clear advantages to having an informed public
with firsthand knowledge of the beauty of nature, as is
sometimes the case with "eco-adventures" there
was an ethical question. Here, it was whether they drop
food overboard — chum the waters — to attract sharks.
Not
only did I not wish to swim among bloody fish entrails,
such activity can modify the behavior of wild animals and
affect their ability to survive on their own. (It’s the
same reason you see "don’t feed the ducks"
signs in parks.) For such reasons, state and federal
regulations prohibit feeding sharks in Hawaii.
I
contacted the company up front. They assured me by email
that they don’t feed sharks.
So
why do sharks come to their boats?
For
years, crabbers and fishermen have thrown fish waste off
boats out here, "so these sharks are accustomed to
being fed off boats," explained Phil Oury, Kainani’s
young crewman.
"And
don’t tell the competition, but we have the same engine
as the crabber, so the sound is the same," Whyte
added. "It’s like the ice-cream truck!"
He
advised our group to watch for tagged sharks, an
indication they have a transmitter in their belly, part of
a University of Hawaii study in which his company has
taken part.
We
soon arrived at the shark cage, which our crew had brought
out and tethered to a mooring at first light. After a few
instructions, during which she looked almost as green as
distant Kaena Point, Creameans was first into the cage.
She splashed, ducked under, then quickly surfaced and
called out, "They’re here!"
Whyte
grinned and mimicked her words. "‘They’re here!’
Isn’t that like what they said in ‘Jaws’ or
something?"
These
typically are sandbar sharks and larger, 8- to 9-foot
Galapagos sharks, Oury said. "They’re a very bold
shark, not afraid to come up to the boat. But in all our
experience over the years, they’re really docile
animals."
For
what is billed as an educational experience, there wasn’t
a lot more educational talk, though the crew was happy to
answer questions.
Once
in the water, I ducked my mask under and there they were,
indeed: battleship gray, six or eight or more at a time,
circling the cage and the boat. Big dorsals, like ax
heads, and long, dagger-pointed tail fins slicing the sea.
They
glided without apparent effort, studies in streamlining,
against an endless backdrop of blue water. I couldn’t
stop looking. I took big gulps of air and dived toward the
bottom of the cage, where the water was calm and quiet.
Some came nosing up curiously. I felt awed, not
threatened.
Oury
had loaned me his underwater camera, a soap-bar sized
GoPro Hero. In about 20 minutes I shot more than 70
photos, sometimes daring to stick my hand out through the
cage. But not for long.
We
saw one tagged shark. Another had a fishing hook embedded
in its snout.
Back
on the boat, a warm shower from a spray nozzle felt great,
though I really hadn’t gotten cold in the tropical
water, even without a wet suit like my cohorts wore.
"That
was awesome," said Jessica Creameans, the San Diego
daughter.
I
asked about the little feeding frenzy. Oury said he had
dumped some old tuna. I had noticed some white flecks in
the water. It wasn’t a lot but it was food the sharks
liked.
So
maybe as a policy they don’t feed the sharks, but this
day sharks got a little treat. Draw your own conclusion.
The
real "Jaws" moment was when I was catching my
breath at the water’s surface, looking out from the
cage, and saw a high dorsal fin break the water and dart
quickly toward me.
The
reaction was visceral. It was like looking up railroad
tracks at a locomotive’s headlight and I was driving the
stalled car. Cue the scary music:
"Ba-dum,
ba-dum, BA-DUM ..."
———
IF
YOU GO:
Two
guide services offer shark-cage dives off Oahu’s North
Shore. Both operate out of Haleiwa Small Boat Harbor,
about an hour’s drive from Waikiki, and go out several
times a day dependent on weather:
—I
went with Hawaii Shark Encounters. $105 adult, $75 for
kids younger than 12, $90 for military;
