At first I think nothing of the open ocean below — and a bottom, invisible at 3,000 feet. Then one, then two oceanic whitetips slide beneath my legs, grazing my fin tips. Shark Alley off Nassau. Tiger Beach off Grand Bahama. These are dives where you’re grounded, literally and mentally, by sand 40 and 20 feet deep, respectively. Out here, off the coast of Cat Island, the sharks approach from all angles. Chaos.

My heart races in response, but I know to suppress the feeling. These animals are smart. Their sensors register the slightest uptick in pulse. They’ve evolved to withstand the desertlike conditions of open water. Not many fish here. No reefs. The only handouts, at least during their layover in these parts, come in April and May when Stuart Cove’s Dive Bahamas bases a boat and crew on island at Hawk’s Nest Resort.

The ritual is the same most mornings. Head to the location where these long-finned wonders were last spotted. Apply a generous pour of menhaden oil overboard. Next, add handfuls of fish guts, preferably tuna or mahimahi. The tricky part comes while the mixture marinates, releasing juices. Wait. The clock may announce that only 15 minutes have passed. Perhaps two hours. You could be at sea all day and score nothing but a tan. But not likely.

On our first day, 13 miles offshore of Columbus Point on the island’s southeast tip, I hop in the water as a lone animal circles. One is easy. My eyes can easily follow one. To truly gain an appreciation for this species, it’s best to encounter several at once; like pickpocket rings, they work best in teams. While you’re entertained by the two cruising in your sightline, the third sneaks behind, edging close enough to test your awareness.

With that said, their body language is relaxed. Pectoral fins hang low and easy at their sides. Only if the fins lift to jut perpendicularly from their side is there reason to legitimately fear this predator — but this never happens on my trip.

Instead, it’s three days of attempting a meditation on calmness as these sharks — 13 feet in length — fin circles around and through the group of divers. Their yellow, glittering eyes are among the most beautiful things I’ve seen. When the chum raining down aligns with their gullet, a membrane skates across their irises as they thrust open their jaws, ready to receive. Just after a shark motors past is the most mesmerizing bit: Its cat-eye rolls back in your direction, continuing to track you. Sometimes we count seven as company. My insides edgy, I try to apply that first lesson of scuba diving: Just breathe, in and out, and appreciate the beautiful chaos all around.

To make this dive your reality, check out: http://stuartcove.com/

A Well-Managed Melee
By Rebecca Strauss

Divemaster Sarah Dauphine counts down from 10 as all 22 of us jump from the moving Aqua Cat into the sea like lemmings, some of us from a platform 6 feet off the water (ahem). We make a negative entry and are immediately swept into the current of Wax Cut, a swift drift dive in the Exuma Cays where the reef passes below like scenery from a moving car. Soft corals and sea fans bend in the current as resolute reef fish turn to face it headon. The highlight comes at the end of the dive, as we roll upon a group of at least 20 nurse sharks, some over 8 feet long, nestled together in groups of four and five in the sandy sea grass that marks our exit point. Though not exactly startled, they nonetheless disband upon our disappearance, fading sinuously into the blue to nap in a quieter locale.

Each dive is marked with something impressive to log — “Did you see that gigantic eagle ray?!” I ask my buddy at Parrotfish Reef (he didn’t) — but you can feel anticipation building for the marquee event: a shark feed on the Austin Smith wreck. The 90-foot Bahamas Defense Force cutter sits upright in 60 feet of water, and when we pull up, the Caribbean reef sharks are already circling — they know it’s lunchtime.

After we take our places in a row along the gunwales of the boat, one of the divemasters tows down a frozen chumsicle and attaches it via carabiner to a line on the deck. There had already been two boats in the area that day, chumming for their own shark feeds, so these guys are ready for the main course. At least 20 reef sharks, ranging from 2 to 5 feet long, swarm the frozen fish in an elaborate underwater ballet. The sharks play the lead roles, undulating around the bait and grabbing chunks in turns; just as one player enters stage right, another takes his leave stage left. Waiting in the wings is the supporting cast: A huge school of yellowtail snapper hovers below the sharks, sneaking a turn at the stage when they can; queen triggerfish and gigantic Nassau grouper scarcely give way to
anyone; and runty black grouper hover in the holds like understudies, awaiting their turn in the spotlight.

The entire thing is over in 40 minutes. As the pickings get slim, the sharks drift off one by one to seek their next meal, as do the divers, who slowly ascend toward the Aqua Cat, and our own lunchtime buffet.

To make this dive your reality, check out: http://aquacatcruises.com/

Keep Calm and Dive On
By Tanya G. Burnett & Kevin Palmer

We’re kneeling in the sand in 40 feet of water alongside a handful of other divers. Following our guide’s explicit instructions, we’re suited completely in black, including gloves, hoods, suits, masks, fins and BCs. It’s long been proved that most shark bites are accidents, and by eliminating any light-colored surfaces (similar to fish bodies), we hope to prevent any exploratory nibbles. We line up like lights on a runway and face into the current, eyes peeled for the distinctive squared-off nose, enormous dark eyes, oil-drum-size girth, and distinctive stripes of a tiger shark. Lemon and reef sharks haunt the same territory as the tigers, and usually respond first to the scent of bait, which drifts in minute quantities down-current. These sharks are fun to watch and know a good thing when they see it — but they also know the pecking order as soon as the tiger shows up. The divers know it too, and the mood changes immediately as all eyes lock onto the first powerful predator to enter the scene. As the lemon and reef sharks give way, the tiger shark glides slowly and deliberately toward the bait.

Tigers have long had a particularly bad rap. “Garbage cans of the ocean,” “man-eaters” and “mindless killers” are but a few of the slurs hurled their way. That they can reach 18 feet in length does little to allay these fears. There is no doubt that this is an impressive and opportunistic predator, but doing a few dives with these strikingly marked sharks reveals a far more nuanced and intelligent animal.

These sharks are common in this region of Grand Bahama due to its underwater topography: There is a plummeting drop-off near a shallow bank, so the sharks have a buffet of natural food sources. A tiger appearance is possible on any dive in the area, but a sighting is most reliable here at Tiger Beach, an area of relatively shallow water, which allows loads of bottom time with no worries of decompression.

We have been told that once one appears, others might show up, so in between shots of our star subject, we search for stripes emerging from the blue before
being surprised by a reef shark sneaking overhead. But once the tiger shark appears, all else is forgotten. It’s just us, and our curiosity seems mutual, right until the moment it shields its eyes with a nictitating membrane and gently bumps into the camera’s dome. Tigers learn their surroundings by testing, and a shiny, eyeball-like structure deserves some investigation. At times, the tiger sneaks up from behind, making one wish for eyes in the back of one’s head. After spotting one approaching, it quickly reroutes — eye contact is a confrontation everywhere in the animal kingdom. If it all sounds like a game of cat-and-mouse, it is, but not so much a hunt as a first date — each of us becoming more comfortable as the days go on. In the end, it is hard not to be smitten, leaving those shallow banks starry-eyed and hoping for nothing so much as a second date with a new acquaintance.

To make this dive your reality, check out: http://stuartcove.com/

A Face Only a Mother Could Love
By Tanya G. Burnett & Kevin Palmer

It’s obvious a hammerhead has shown up as we stand on the deck and look down through water that seems more swimming pool than ocean. The silhouette of its distinctive head stands in marked contrast to the torpedolike shadows of nurse and bull sharks, which have been circling for some time around the shark wrangler. When our turn comes to descend, with cameras in tow, we make our way across the bottom and take up a position near the bait as the bulls circle at a respectful distance.

Great hammerhead sightings are rare in the wild, and even then, the shy sharks are likely a distant glimpse. Only recently has there been a reliable opportunity to interact with these creatures close up in the shallow waters around Bimini — which makes it that much more thrilling.

The shark’s form takes shape as it emerges from the blue and, unexpectedly, it is the enormous dorsal fin that stands out first. The distance from the shark’s belly to dorsal tip is more than 3 feet and is followed by an equally impressive tail, sweeping methodically in the current. The iconic, flattened mallet-shaped head swings gently across the sandy bottom like a metal detector in pursuit of treasure, which in this case is a milk crate emanating a fishy smell. For a photographer, the shark seems small in the fisheye lens of the camera’s viewfinder, until the moment when suddenly the enormous animal is upon you as its curious eye glints in the dome port. The shark’s (relatively) petite mouth opens to expose perfectly triangular teeth, and then, performing an impossibly tight arc, it disappears into the blue distance as quickly and silently as it came.

This is not the free-for-all of a Caribbean-reef-shark feed, but rather a studiously conducted reconnaissance mission, executed by a calm and inquisitive creature seeking the source of its stimulation. And the recon missions only get better. Over several days, groups of up to 10 sharks appear, each with a unique personality. When sharks this powerful appear from every direction in these kinds of numbers, while coming so close that you must steer their bony heads away with your camera housing, you’re left with an indelible memory that you won’t forget.

As a diver, one can only hope to have the experience again and that these shy animals continue to believe that we are worth investigating.

To make this dive your reality, check out: http://www.biggameclubbimini.com/

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