Want to hear about the time I swam with a shark?
I thought you might. It was last August in the Seychelles, a tiny sprinkling of islands just north of Madagascar, and I was swimming in the blue waters just outside Bae Ternay where I was staying. I was there on a ten-week marine conservation trip, scuba diving two times a day and spending the rest of the time doing our chores or drinking rum on the welcome-to-paradise sands. It’s a tough life, I know. We were just about to come up from doing our fish counts and sizing when it happened.
It was like the shark had flicked a switch in the ocean. One minute, the colourful tropical fish were dancing over the delicate polyps of the coral, gently being pushed too-and-fro by the crisp current. The next, the water was charged with tension as the fish darted about in a mad rush to hide in whatever crevice they could fit in. The colours dimmed as a huge shadow moved over my dive buddy and me.
Wildlife sightings often feel like a privilege, especially nowadays. With all the rape and pillaging we see of our seas, exotic and rare marine life are in the extremes of that privilege. Sharks are a bit different. You can’t help but feel your pulse start racing and adrenaline surge through your veins as your imagination flickers back to the iconic scenes of Jaws and images of electrifying, sleek, grey torpedos. You’re in their home, where they have a million-year evolutionary advantage over us in sub-aquatic swimming.
I broke and looked. Within a split second I was shouting into my regulator. Gently gliding above our excited flailing was a 14 foot whale shark (4 meters) – no giant in terms of whale shark sizing, only a young one – with remoras hitching a ride on its slipstream. Slowly ascending behind its pectoral fins, we were following it a few feet from the surface, finally joining the exclusive club of people who can say that they have swam with a whale shark. It was on my bucket list, and it should definitely be on yours.
