Sharks
Warrnambool
I was about fourteen, I suppose when sharks first entered my world.
My father and I were out
sailing on Lady Bay when we saw a large fin wander on by. To be honest, looking back from a position of
greater knowledge, I don’t know if it was a shark or a dolphin, but we duly reported the sighting to the Surf Life Saving
Club who declared it a dolphin and that was the end of it.
Two or three weeks later I was doing what Warrnambool young bucks did on the weekend, which was swim out to the buoy
which was a couple of hundred yards offshore from the main surf beach. When I was within about fifty yards,
I noticed several people splashing around it and shortly thereafter a lone swimmer passed me, heading for shore.
He was breathing to the right and as his arm came over he glanced at me and in a conversational tone said, “shark”.
I went like hell in his wake and was extremely relieved to catch a good wave for most of the way. It
turned out that Ken Smith had been attacked by a shark as he was rounding the buoy. A small yacht had dragged
him on board and then brought him ashore at the Yacht Club. We went round there and helped Alwyn Noseda
wash the resulting blood off his boat while he recounted how the shark had kept trying to get at Ken even when he was completely
on board. It had then trailed them nearly all the way following the trail of blood that leaked out through
the centerboard case.
Ken was a large bloke and survived the attack, though the way I heard it he was
in surgery for eighteen hours while Kel Gardner put him back together.
West Caicos
We had
anchored off the island late in the afternoon and I went straight over the side to see what I could spear for dinner in the
waning light. I got a couple of parrot fish (which are surprisingly good eating, though definitely second
choice) and then went in search of more. In the vague distance I could see what seemed like the mother
of all parrot fish, and as I closed on it the anticipation turned to something close to horror as I realized I was stalking
what turned out to be a seven foot lemon shark. They say that seeing a shark up close for the first time,
when you are both in the water is a different and unique experience. It is. I slowly
backed away towards the dinghy as it followed, now stalking me. When about five yards away I turned and
lunged up over the side of the “rubber duck” just as the shark decided to go for me. Nesa had
been watching this unfold with his head stuck over the side using a diving mask. He not only confirmed
how close it had been but with a big grin said “You didn’t see the other one coming up behind you!”
We both leaned into the water to take a look, and just below the boat two sharks circled, deprived of their evening
dinner. Nesa really didn’t like sharks, and that night he set out to catch one and was successful.
That’s when we were able to identify them as lemon sharks, and learn that they are credited with numerous attacks
on humans.
West
Caicos – The Next Day
I guess I’m slow learner. We sailed round to the
North side of the island and anchored behind the reef around noon the next day. Again Nesa and I went off
in the dinghy and again I went in search of fish. It turned out to be a good spot and I surfaced to lean
over the side of the dinghy to remove the head of the spear, and the fish, and then reassemble everything. I
had my elbows wedged over the side and the rest of my body trailing in the water but had trouble in this pose rethreading
the line that attaches the spear to the gun, and decided it would be better to drop back into the water where the line would
float and things would be easier. I remember the next bit really well. I pushed back from the boat and
dropped off to my left. Facing me three feet away was another bloody lemon shark. He
was rolling to his right, with his jaws wide open, to take me on the left thigh. I’m not sure whose
surprise was greater. I yelled a really bad word into my snorkel and the shark shut his mouth and continued
his roll to the right and swam away. And that was the end of spear fishing at West Caicos.
We were anchored in the middle of nowhere, and if he had got me, there was little doubt I would have bled to death.
Bahamas
Some weeks later we were up in the
Bahamas where the spear fishing was nearly as good, and the sharks not as aggressive. We became quite used
to being in the water with one or two reef sharks. These were smaller, and somehow I found that psychologically
it was all right if the shark was smaller than you, but not all right if it was bigger. We met a group
of local fisherman who taught us to catch, extract and cook conch, the large West Indian shellfish. In
conversation I mentioned that we’d had shark problems at West Caicos while spear fishing. This produced
a stunned look and a call to his friends. “This silly man went spear fishing at West Caicos!”
Seems everyone knew not to do so, except me. They all shook my hand for luck.