Episode #3 - "Me and the Shark!"

(All previous blog postings can still be viewed at SV/Glory Days)


"I need an eagle in my life everyday.  Some days I need an extra eagle."  

From Jeemer's Dream, 1980, jcg

Sometimes I pride myself for living on the edge and taking what I call sensible risks on a regular basis. 

The satisfaction achieved from overcoming great obstacles of personal challenge and surviving near misses can be addicting and even enslaving. One can even get to the point where these indisputable moments of glory soon become a requirement in your life. 

Before you know it you may find you've upped the ante and anything less than raw adventure can push the limits of contentment towards the mundane.  

Figuring how to sail a boat solo across unknown seas or how to put dinner on the table by using your wits are just a couple of the achievements that somehow evolved from the impossible to the routine. 

After long periods of challenging adventures and high adrenalin, sometimes going back to a more predictable lifestyle can seem ... well, too ordinary.  

You might find yourself raising the bar again to satisfy the primal quest within you.

I wouldn't call it a curse but it is a fickle phenomenon someone like myself must learn to live with.  Clearly, everyday cannot be a series of near misses, close calls or personal victories over the forces of nature.  

I suppose eventually one must learn to live within the more docile parameters of daily life in order to find that balance of adventure and tranquility. Or do they?

Hey, that's a discussion for another day.  For now I want to reminisce about a powerful episode that happened to me on April 20, 2018 in the Abaco Islands of the Bahamas.  It all started at Manjack Cay.


When I sailed into Manjack Cay I figured I would stay a day or two.  I ended up staying a week. 

The island known as Manjack Cay ranks high as one of my favorite stops in the Bahamas for several reasons.  

It is a protected anchorage, not far from Green Turtle Cay. many sailors drop the hook here and linger for days.  It is quiet, it is remote, and it is magically beautiful.

The island has jungle-like trails to hike and a perfect little inlet to the sea for snorkeling excursions at the many reefs near her shore.


Manjack Cay is a sleepy anchorage where you easily see all 100' of your anchor chain resting on the floor of the sea.

 Manjack is mostly uninhabited except for 3-4 rustic homes there.  There is one happy couple that has lived here off the grid for the past 26 years.  I was impressed with their generosity of sharing their beach and picnic area with a host of cruising nomads like myself.  

 It was easy to stay here and a difficult place to leave. 

 Peaceful and protected.

The interior of the island has a long and winding tidal river (see below) that is host to a nursery of young sea turtles ... more than I could ever count.  The young turtles in the nursery can be seen darting about through the ultra clear water when one ventures there in a dinghy. 

 

Most days at dusk I would take my dinghy for a slow sunset excursion up the river.  Counting sea turtles became my game. The water is crisp and clear and it is not uncommon to count a dozen or more of these little creatures at home here in a short period.

 The fishing here was ok, but all I ever landed here was the recurring barracuda.  Fun to catch and release.

During my 7 day stay there I had the pleasure to meet a young couple named Jeremy and Susan.  They were living aboard a very modest 27' sailboat named Jazz. 

Jeremy aboard Jazz.

I found Jeremy to be one of those young, fearless and virile Robinson Crusoe types who lives off the bounties of the sea.  He was an expert free diver able to hold his breath underwater for miraculous lengths of time.

Jeremy was very knowledgable of the local fish species, and I was thrilled when he asked me to go snorkeling with him.  Actually he called it "hunting" not snorkeling.  Another solo sailor named Ghee, from The Netherlands, joined us on this weekday morning as we set out to go "hunting" on the reef. 

It had been a long while since I used my pole spear so I was giddy with excitment to tag along with these two veterans of the sea.  We timed our departure with the tide and motored out in two separate dinghies to a series of reefs.  Jeremy was kind enough to loan me a spare wet suit for the outing.

We dropped our anchors at the reef and before I had even got my fins on Jeremy had already speared a 10 pound Mutton Snapper and was swimming the new catch to the boat where we had an ice cooler.  

It's not so easy snagging a fish with a pole spear because you have to be at very close range to have a reasonable chance of a direct hit.  You also have to have an excellent aim because the last thing you want to do is wound the fish and lose him as he escapes.  Here I am holding Jeremy's catch, but I certainly cannot take credit for this trophy. Mutton Snapper is prime eating!

Sometimes fish, particularly snapper, will elude you by hiding inside the protection of rocks.  Jeremy was particularly skilled at snuffing out snapper from the rocks and bringing them to the surface and on to the dinner table.

On this day the seas were calm and the visibility underwater was perfect.  My dive buddies had warned me of possible sharks in the area but assured me sharks typically just mind their own business. They said, "just don't act afraid or taunt them in any way"... duh, who would do that?   

Shortly into our dive, I spotted a reef shark in the distance slowly patrolling the area.  I figured he was at least 100' from us and moving slowly away from us towards other reefs unknown.  

This shark in the distance did not concern me too much at the time and I continued to go about my business of "hunting".   Little did I know the shark's behavior would change once Jeremy had another bloody fish in his spear. 

With my hands on the cocked spear and my eyes big as silver dollars I took in all the underwater beauty around me while stalking any prey worthy of a keeper. 

The sun sparkled through the azure water and various aquatic growth wafted to the flow of the current.  The reef shark was of little concern to me. I was truly mesmerized. 

I spent time snorkeling atop the surface and then I dove to depths of 15-20' prowling the reef for any elusive catch I might land. I tried to stay within sight of my dive buddies but they were like safari hunters scouting the area.  It was thrilling. Keeping up with their pace was a challenge but I managed to hold my own. 

Then it happened.  
Jeremy speared another snapper. But the wounded fish had lodged himself between two rocks about 20' below.  Jeremy asked to borrow my pole spear to retrieve the catch and I gladly obliged while watching this skilled diver intently go back down to finish the job.

He was successful and soon brought the snapper to the surface as seen in the photo below.

Then things quickly changed. 

Suddenly, not one but two, reef sharks took note of the catch and began shifting their way in our direction. Curious they were. 

They moved slowly at first, but in no time at all these two reef sharks seemed more determined heading our direction.  For me, this was too close for comfort.  

I immediately retreated towards the dinghy.  But when I looked over the surface of the water I gasped because the safety of the dinghy was still a long way, maybe 100 yards in the distance. Shit!

Suddenly all three of us divers were trying to get back to the dinghy as quick as possible. All the while the 2 reef sharks remained in slow pursuit.  My heart fluttered.  

They came closer.  

Before I knew what had happened I was staring directly into the face of a 6' shark no more than 20' away from me. He was looking right at me as if sizing me up.

"Don't panic." I thought.  Just go slow and steady back to the boat.  

I was torn.  I could not decide if I should turn onto my tummy and swim like hell back to the boat and lose sight of the shark.  Or should I back paddle as seen in the photo here?

Back paddling would be much slower but I could keep an eye on the shark in that position.  After another glance at the shark I quickly concluded both were terrible options.

My heart was pounding and I wondered if this would be it.  Still I was only halfway back to the boat at best. 

Then suddenly Ghee appeared out of nowhere with his spear and seemed to get in between me and the shark.  I'm not sure if he did this on purpose as a heroic deed but I was glad not be alone in this conundrum.  

I made the decision to swim on my tummy and get back as fast as possible with minimal thrashing in the water that could tip off the shark. 

Closer, closer, and closer to the boat I swam in prayer.  It seemed like it was taking forever to get there. Heart pounding I finally touched the hypalon surface of the dinghy.  What a welcome relief.

Safe!

I immediately pulled myself aboard and collapsed onto the floor of the boat while staring up into the clouds. I was breathing like I had just ran a marathon.   Even though out of breath I suddenly felt a wave of relief. 

Each of us seemed to arrive at the boats at the same time and somehow Jeremy still had the snapper miraculously held high above the water.  

Evidently, this was nothing new to my dive buddies.  I had just seen my life flash before me. As I was busy thanking God for my life, these two were already plotting their next dive.  It was decided to move to another reef and continue with the hunt. 

Surprisingly they only moved about a half mile north and were both back in the water for another round of fetching dinner.  I was still too rattled to join them.  I just couldn't see it, getting back into the water that is. I would rather wait in the boat patiently counting my toes, fingers, and arse to assure myself I had survived this scare of a lifetime. 

We soon returned to Manjack Cay where I climbed aboard  the safety of my beloved Serenade.  I was exhausted and had no problem crashing for an extended nap that afternoon.

Later that evening we all gathered on the shore of Manjack Cay for a cookout on the beach. We had stories to tell and reasons to feel fantastic. 

The snapper was cooked to perfection on a bed of coals and everyone contributed a side dish.  Local residents Leslie and Bill joined us.  Singing songs and playing my guitar that evening never felt so good.  I had survived.

Here's a one minute video of some highlights from that day and Jeremy snuffing the fish from the reef :

Epilogue: 
Somewhere in that big Atlantic Ocean is a reef shark having a good laugh at how he put the fear of God in the heart of this one Georgia boy.

(NOTE: All 100 previous blog postings since 2012 can still be viewed at Sailing Vessel Glory Days)