Turning 50

TLDR: I swam with some big sharks. But, really, just read it.  

In just a whisper over a year I turn 50. I know, with all the grey hair forming in the beard it looks like I hit that date a decade ago but I swear it is true. I blame the pandemic.

In tribute of this upcoming reminder of mortality I decided it was high time to knock an item off the bucket list. It's important to note that I've been scuba or freediving since very young. As a child I grew up exploring the water on account of the intrepid explorer that was my dad who had a carefree disregard for normal rules and order. This was the man who once bungee jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge. At night. While holding flares in his hands to make the photo even more epic.

I have no idea the first-time I donned a snorkel but I do recall the first time scuba diving. I was around 12 and my dad handed me a tank and reg, telling me the most important advice that applies to scuba as well as life: "Don't stop breathing." That was the training session. It wouldn't be for another 6 years and over one hundred dives later that I was officially certified.

Like all kids, I've always had a fascination with sharks made all the stronger with a life in the water. Getting to see them while diving, though, is a profoundly beautiful experience. Graceful and sleek, taunt with power that with but the most subtle flick of their tail can propel them to speeds underwater unimaginable to this lumbering land ape. Sure, on dives I'd always look for the pretty fish, tease the Christmas tree worms, peek under rocks for nudibranchs and shrimp, follow turtles, seals, and pufferfish...but my eyes are always on the lookout for sharks.

We are instinctively scared of sharks. Black eyes, mouths filled with teeth, striking quickly from the depths and catching us unaware. I'm no stranger to this emotion and feel it just as intensely as anyone...but exploration occurs in the company of fear, not in its absence.

In reality, sharks have every reason to be scared of us. Last year, there were 14 confirmed fatalities due to shark bites. Globally. That’s it. 14.  By comparison more tourists die each year from selfies than from sharks. I’m not joking.

Last year an estimated 70-100 Million sharks were killed, due to bycatch and the horrendous practice of "fining" for shark-fin soup. I'm not the best with math but those numbers are fairly lopsided. The impact upon the marine ecosystem is utterly devastating.

So, last week I had the opportunity to do something that I've attempted time and again but never succeeded: go diving with a tiger shark. Every time I’ve tried, the tigers have never shown up. It’s worth noting that tigers hold a special place in the shark taxonomy: they are utterly massive, inquisitive, and strikingly beautiful on account of their vertical stripes. They also have a reputation to be a bit...bitey. Cadavers have been discovered with license plates, tires, torpedoes, and more as they are less selective with their food choices as a teenager in a buffet line.

There is an outfit in Oah’u called One Ocean Diving founded by the utterly amazing Ocean Ramsey. Seriously, stop reading this and read about them. They arrange charters out to a spot on the North Shore teeming with ocean life. And tigers.

Last week I found myself with that unbelievable and utterly rare trifecta of time, opportunity, and location. A call, a booking, and then at 7am on an otherwise normal Thursday I was on a boat heading out to swim with sharks. Really, really big sharks.

A few miles offshore in waters cerulean blue and deeper than my heartache after the Niners lost the last Super Bowl, we hopped off the boat shortly after the call went out “Tiger, Tiger, Tiger” indicated what awaited.

And awaited it did. Within moments of entering the water I noticed a 12-footer half it’s distance from my right arm. It swam off blessedly missing my overwhelming terror. Over the next 30 minutes to a lifetime I swam with five massive tiger sharks in the open ocean, in addition to a half dozen sandbar sharks, all continually circling our little posse. Occasionally, one of the tigers would be excessively curious and my guide Faith would skillfully steer them off with an outstretched hand, always with a gentle pat along the flank, as one would do to a playful puppy.

To be clear these aren’t puppies: these are magnificent, stealthy, beautiful, and, yes, potentially dangerous creatures with whom we share the world. Also, they don’t respond as well to squeaky toys. A world without this majesty is a world that doesn’t survive.

I’ve been a traveler all my life and hope to remain one for as many more years past 50 I get. I hope to instill the passion of travel within my own children that they see the grandeur of the world, both above the waterline and below. Part of the joy of traveling is realizing the world can be simultaneously beautiful and terrifying, filled with joy and struggle. Fearing this duality is missing out on the beauty of life.

Next time I’m in Oah’u, I’m booking another trip with One Ocean to see the tigers. And I’m bringing my daughters. You should do the same.  

#helpsavesharks #oneocean #sayNOtosharkfinsoup #ocean #travel