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SHARK TRUST?
Fear of becoming shark bait seems to be widespread among new divers. Ask a room full of trainees what they're most worried about, and shark attacks loom large.
They always look terribly disappointed when I explain that getting separated from the boat or screwing up an ascent are far more likely dangers. Well, that and the opportunity to expire from starvation while queuing for a cup of tea and a greasy burger after the dive.
The movie Jaws has clearly got a lot to answer for. It takes a while to persuade people that the glimpse of a shark under water is a much-sought-after thrill. Especially in the UK, where often as not a glimpse of your buddy under water is a much-sought-after thrill.
The Whale and Dolphin Conservation Society recently issued a very useful splashproof identification guide featuring whales, dolphins and sharks that you might find in UK waters.
Even more useful would be a comparative guide including UK diving species. Is that a harbour porpoise I see before me? No, the markings are consistent with a technical diver sporting an over-inflated wing. That large blur resembles a long-finned pilot whale - oh, my mistake, it's a BSAC National Instructor breaching the surface.
While diving in Florida, I was impressed by stories of the many shark species that could be seen around the wrecks. Being America, they guaranteed that everything was BIG. The wrecks were large, the fish were whoppers, the sharks were absolute stonkers.
Our team leader was Mike, a local FBI special agent. He had that butch-yet-groomed look that goes down terribly well in London's gay bars. He also had an unnerving habit of launching himself off the boat with the shot to swim down and tie into the wreck.
This was a heroic role that involved fighting off a variety of marine life in the process. I'd be kitting up on deck while visualising him dropping into the blue, his gun and FBI badge at the ready.
Please don't ask me why they didn't just chuck the shot in and check on the fishfinder that it was in the right position. Where's the fun in that, when you can send someone plummeting onto the seabed at 75m, clutching a length of chain?
Mike was a credit to the Bureau and never disappointed us. His shark stories kept us entertained all week. "HUGE bull shark cruising about down there. Man, he looked real mean... Two of them, seven-footers, sniffing around me while I was tying in... Five sharks, and they were coming right up my ass!... A whole pack of sharks trying to get behind me. I backed up against the wreck and I smacked one real good. I kicked that shark's butt!"
Perhaps he truly had kicked their butts, or perhaps it was my habit of singing Andy Williams classics on the dive that forced the sharks to flee. Either way, I didn't catch a glimpse of one all week.
I was beginning to suspect that Mike had been talking out of his ass when a couple of the Canadian divers sighted sharks. While we were doing our decompression stops, two bull sharks, with heads the size of Transit vans, had been circling a few metres beneath us. I'd been too busy giving a rendition of Too Good To Be True to notice.
The blood ran cold in my veins. I've met sharks under water before, but they either scarpered or were totally uninterested in me. I never felt afraid. I'm a Shark Trust fan - I trust the sharks not to bite me.
The idea of dangling midwater, like bait on a piece of string, while sharks size you up forced me into a re-evaluation.
I might have to stop singing '60s hits and start practising the theme tune from Jaw
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