Going face-to-face with a great white shark

One of the first things I notice staring down the snout of the great white ahead of me: Its eyes. Far from the lifeless, black “doll’s” eyes described by vengeful shark hunter Quint in Jaws, these are intense, intelligent and the deepest blue I’ve ever seen.
I’m at the beginning of a five-night charter with Rodney Fox Shark Expeditions, the only live-aboard that sails to South Australia’s remote Neptune Islands. White sharks migrate to these rocky coves year-round to feed on Australia’s largest colony of fur seals, making it among the few places on earth where divers can come face-to-face with the elusive, vulnerable predators through the bars of an aluminum cage.
An avid scuba diver, I’ve been lucky to encounter over 30 species of sharks in the open ocean, from a graceful school of scalloped hammerheads in the Galápagos to dainty Japanese bullheads off the Izu Peninsula. To me, sharks are not something to fear, but a fearfully misunderstood animal. Since 1580, there have been 949 unprovoked shark bites documented around the world – an incredibly low number when you consider how many people are out surfing and swimming every day.
Still, the great white – Jaws himself – continues to loom large in my imagination. Maybe it’s because they are the largest predatory sharks, appearing in 37 per cent of those incidents, or simply from watching too much Shark Week, even I am hard-wired to sweat a little when the chum hits the water.
Suspended 20 metres below the surface in the world’s only ocean floor cage, my fellow divers and I have nothing to do but wait.
Rancid tuna gills and entrails, stowed in a metal box, leak blood and oil around us, providing a scent trail. Our eyes strain, trying to make out the tell-tale shape of a fin in the darkness. Soon enough, an inquisitive, young male emerges above the bed of swaying seagrass.
This is the side of sharks – even the really, really big ones – that most people never experience. Away from the surface where they most frequently hunt and ambush prey, great whites are calm, cautious, and frankly, not really that into you. Ever vigilant, they approach us with wary curiosity, turning away if we make direct eye contact or a sudden movement. (You don’t survive five mass extinctions by risk-taking, after all). It’s a surreal feeling, to meet the animal that you’ve always been told to fear, only to realize it’s also afraid of you.
Some are bolder than others. Over the course of five days, I begin to recognize a few of the 20 or so great whites by their coloration, scars and notched dorsals. Biteface, named by researchers for his prominent, freckle-like wounds inflicted by seals, is a perpetual wallflower. It’s a thrill for us when MacKenzie, who bears an M-shaped marking on her side, gently bumps the cage near the box of fish parts with her sensitive snout.
At the surface cage where the Rodney Fox team actively chums and lures the great whites closer to the boat with tuna chunks tied onto a hemp line, the sharks are noticeably more active as they try to “hunt” the bait; this is also where nature documentaries shoot their footage of cinematic gnashing teeth and epic breaches. But being an apex predator doesn’t make you a monster.
Rodney Fox Shark Expeditions and other responsible shark diving operations around the world aren’t just about having fun; they serve an important purpose by allowing people to witness the true nature of sharks, conquer their fears and shed misconceptions.
As humans, it’s often our nature to be afraid of what we don’t understand. Sharks have never needed our understanding more.
Shark and ray populations fell by 71.1 per cent from 1970 to 2018, while it’s estimated that a third of chondrichthyans (sharks, rays, and chimeras) are now threatened with extinction, largely owing to overfishing for their meat, fins, leather, oil, gill plates, and recreation. Susceptibility to bycatch, climate change, habitat degradation, and pollution are also threats.
Rodney himself, the company’s founder, was among the first people to realize ecotourism’s ability to change public opinion. A champion spearfisher who survived a life-threatening great white bite in 1963, he pioneered shark cage diving and has since dedicated his life to conservation and research.
Since those early days, the shark tourism industry has boomed. It’s estimated that within the next 20 years, shark diving will generate over $1 billion per year globally, with 71 per cent of divers willing to pay more to observe sharks than other charismatic marine species. Because the surface cage allows entry to noncertified divers, it attracts all sorts of people, many of whom have never enjoyed the opportunity to interact with a shark in the wild.
Flash forward four months, and I’m gearing up to dive off Fuvahmulah, a laid-back, resort-free island in the Maldives that tops many intrepid divers’ bucket lists. Here, fishermen have unintentionally fed tiger sharks for generations while cleaning their daily catch overboard; the addition of a new fish market in 2006 attracted the animals – whose population is estimated at 200-plus – even closer to shore.
Despite being fierce predators, tigers are also known for their unfussy eating habits, and will happily scavenge meals. Now, local outfitters like Pelagic Divers Fuvahmulah are leveraging this unique opportunity by hiding the tuna heads that the sharks eat as part of their regular diet under rocks for them to sniff out while divers sit back and watch the show unfold. It’s one of the newest successful examples of shark tourism.
I kneel on the sand, just 10 metres below the surface, as the tiger sharks glide in front of me one by one. They look regal – serene, even – their striped skin dappled with sunlight. While we have safety divers nearby to redirect the sharks if they decide to invade our personal space, it’s never a concern. The tigers, several of them heavily pregnant, remain focused on finding the fish – an easy meal and much-needed nourishment for their growing young.
When I argue for shark conservation, I sometimes tell people about the important role sharks play in the ocean’s ecosystem. They remove the weak and sick, keeping the marine food chain free of disease, and trap carbon. How without them – without a functioning ocean – we would lose a critical buffer against the impact of climate change and the lungs of the planet.
But what I really want to say is: Go diving. Look in the eyes of an animal that outdates trees and the rings of Saturn. You might return to the surface a different person.
Here’s how to dive in
In Australia: Rodney Fox Shark Expeditions (rodneyfox.com.au) is located in Port Lincoln, South Australia. A three-night expedition for $2,000 a person includes shared accommodations, all meals and unlimited surface cage time. Single cabins, scuba diving, gear rental and alcoholic drinks are at an additional charge. Itineraries vary from three to nine nights. Book early – expeditions can fill up a year in advance.
Historically, December to February offers the best weather and the greatest chance of seeing the most great whites. Hoping to see a giant, mature female? Take your chances during the austral winter and come from June to August, when larger sharks are attracted by long nose fur seal pups entering the ocean.
In the Maldives: Pelagic Divers (pelagicdiversfuvahmulah.com) is located on the island of Fuvahmulah. A five-night Basic Package for $2,320 a person includes shared bed and breakfast accommodations, round-trip flights between Malé and Fuvahmulah, transfers and three dives a day (tiger, pelagic and reef).
Tiger sharks are present year-round in Fuvahmulah. Visit the Maldives during the dry season (December to April) for the best weather. You can also search for thresher sharks, hammerheads, oceanic manta rays and other elusive species out in the blue. Because of depth and currents, it’s preferred for divers to have an Advanced Open Water certification.