Nurse the Hate: The Great White Shark Dive Scheme

From what I gather, there are only four places on the planet where one can dive with great white sharks.  The Fallanon Islands are off of San Francisco.  They are stinky little islands sprayed with seagull shit where seals hang out on the rocky shoreline.  It’s usually cold and rough out there.  It offers no reason to go there except the sharks and getting seasick.  This trip does offer the upside of staying in the city and then working in wine side trips with the dives.  However, these dive trips also seem like a bit of a scam as the "authorities" (whoever that is) no longer allow tour operators to chum to attract the sharks.  Then factor in that the water is cold as shit and the visibility is low.  That makes me picture myself shivering in a steel cage in murky water while the guys running the boat are laughing at me topside knowing full well a giant shark isn't just going to swim past.  That's out.

There's a place called Seal Island somewhat near Capetown in South Africa that seems promising.  Great Whites like to eat seals and there are 75,000 of them flopping around this shitty little island.  I've always wanted to go to South Africa as well.  I can picture myself visiting wineries and being dismissive of their chenin blanc and pinotages.  I could see causing an international incident with my loose tongue.  Maybe I could even get robbed and shot in a shanty village as I naively search for "the real South Africa".  That would be nice.  The issue there is visibility in the water is a bit dicey and they have you breathe through a snorkel instead of a scuba tank.  I don't care for that as that seems to lack the full commitment of total independence from the boat.  I also am not flying across the planet to jump into murky water.  That’s out.

There's a place called Guadalupe Island off Ensenada in the Baja Peninsula in Mexico.  I love Mexico because there are essentially no rules.  The downside of having no rules is there is the very real possibility that you hop into a cage that falls apart the second you drop in the water because no one follows any safety or maintenance protocols.  As you are being eaten by a sea monster the crew abandons the area and conspires on how to cover up the missing gringo.  Quick travel fact for you…  There is no chance to type out a snarky Trip Advisor review when you get bitten in half.  That's a downside.  Plus, the Island is 160 miles west of Ensenada, so that requires 18 hours of travel.  The options are taking a special Narco protected charter bus from San Diego and then having an overnight on a Mexican dive boat or holing up in a sketchy Ensenada hotel with a bodyguard waiting to be robbed.  There is great visibility once you finally get there though.  I also assume they push the envelope on safety, which I oddly like.  If you are going to do something scary, make it really scary.  That’s possible.

The last option is in the Neptune Islands in South Australia.  They are like the Australian version of Galapagos.  There is a marine reserve where fur seals are in great supply, hence making the shark population large as well.  There is an operation of Australian divers that take a cage to the ocean bottom between 50-70 feet and then hang out there amongst the sharks, seals, rays, and enormous grouper.    In the winter 20+ foot females cruise the area to feed.  They get curious and start bumping into the cage, which is attention getting as they are about 2000 pounds.  This is exactly the kind of terrifying pointless danger I am seeking.    

The downside is that this destination is about 756 hours of flying away from where I live.  It would be like one of those 1850s sea voyages where when you return no one recognizes you because you’ve been gone three years.  My game plan would have to be making it a full world trek and do some things I need to do before being eaten by a shark.  This then entails me making a stop in Asia on the way to New Guinea to dive the World War II wrecks at Truk Lagoon prior to Australia.  There’s supposed to be a terrifying dive on a sunken Japanese destroyer wreck where 12 foot hammerheads swim in schools.  I’d like to do that with an angry little native guy that yells at me with an accent.  I will admit it is a bit off the beaten path.  Part of the travel there appears to be by “war canoe”.  It would be a much larger time commitment than a weekend junket to Vegas. 

I wish I seemed more spiritual so my employer would allow me to go on some sort of soul searching sabbatical (which would be a hard-drinking beach vacation that would be hard to disguise as anything else unless I emerged with a heart tugging documentary or dragged some sick kids with me as part of a charity dodge).  I have no faith in being able to pull off the inner office politics necessary for the sabbatical, so I might have to pretend I was a college grad student and take a job in South Australia until my visa ran out.  Perhaps I could be “the Yank that works at the dive shop” as I sullenly filled oxygen tanks.  I would wear a groovy necklace on a leather string and probably get a New Zealand tribal tattoo.  That’s not a good idea.  My issue is not being able to grow long hair that could bleach out blonde and being old.  When you are trying to scrape out an existence in a foreign country when you are 24, you are embracing adventure.  When you do it at my age you are a creepy drifter. 

There must be a way.  I will need to scheme.