Back of Bourke: Tales from Down Under: Shark* Cage Diving!

*Presence of actual sharks may vary.

Something I've always wanted to do (and by 'always' I mean 'for maybe a few months since I've gotten the ridiculous whim in my head and have become fixated on it') is go cage diving with great white sharks. Fortunately, there are two main places in the world that make these sorts of dreams come true: South Africa, which was a bit further than I was able to travel on a 4-day weekend, or Port Lincoln, South Australia, conveniently located a few hours away from Sydney by plane. It was going to be a weekend with the boys, as my diving buddies Carl and Brett were also going along.

After a series of very early-morning taxi stops, we all arrived at the airport and started our journey west - first through Adelaide, and then on to Port Lincoln, arriving well before noon.

Before I go any further, let me tell you a little bit about Port Lincoln. It is a town of roughly 13,000 people, that is to say, not a lot. Walking through it, the three of us became more and more convinced that it would make a prime city for a zombie invasion. It was small, it was in the middle of nowhere, there were massive grain silos (perfect for sniping zombies), a Walmart-esque building (which, if anything like the US, would have plenty of guns and ammo for defense), and it was completely deserted. With the exception of the occasional car driving past, it was dead silent.

Port Lincoln is also known for their tuna. Much of what is caught there is actually shipped to Japan.

Port Lincoln is also on the Eyre Peninsula, where portions of the movie Jaws were filmed. You may have guessed by this point that the remainder of the post will be rife with Jaws quotes and references. If you haven't ever seen it, you should go watch.

It's ok, I'll wait.

Pretty good, right?

Ok.

The Eyre Peninsula, where they filmed portions

of the movie Jaws. Which portions? No idea.

After arriving at our hotel and checking in, we set off to explore the town a bit.

Our hotel was called the Marina Hotel, fittingly,

as it was located on a Marina.

As we wandered toward the beach, we noticed

that, oddly enough, everybody had matching

towels. Exploring a bit further, we came upon a

rock under a dock. But it wasn't a rock at all...

Port Lincoln was surrounded by little more than

desert and low, rolling hills.

Brett wanted this picture taken because he said

it looked like he was in Afghanistan.

For when a naturally-aspirated granny isn't

fast enough for you.

Ridin' the bluetongue!

Surfin' the bluetongue?

Bluetongue had been sitting in the sun far too

long?

"Billy, why were you late to school?"

"Because it took me 3 hours to cross the street!"

Yep - just another quiet day down by the ol'

Port Lincoln tracks.

I don't think I'd actually seen a proper grain silo

before. Naturally, it fell under the tires of our

zombie fantasy, but instead of zombies, we ended

up with The Grainman, evidently a barley-esque

savant / villain. Yes, we were that bored.

HA! Get it?!

Still, I'd wager it's delicious.

As we wandered toward the coastal 'center' of town, we didn't realize we were about to stumble upon the entire population of the city and then some, all congregated in a single place (much like the colonists of LV-426 when they were all gathered together in the hatchery - "Stop your grinnin' and grab your linen!" - but with considerably less chest-bursting and pulse rifles). This time of year, as it turns out, is there annual Tunarama festival, which is a celebration of - among other things - tuna and all things tuna-related. This included cardboard boat building, horrible stage performances like a bad Mickey Mouse Club, and tuna tossing (yes, I will get to that shortly). Needless to say, we got a certain amount of entertainment out of the whole thing...

The main midway, where they had all manner

of fried foods, including a 'Dagwood Dog,' which

is like a corn dog, but nasty.

Too soon?

That's ok - I think the US has a slide built to look

like the Australian Spanish Influenza epidemic

of 1918.

They had camel rides on the beach - I don't have

anything funny or insightful to say about this; I

just didn't realize camels were so big.

This was something lovingly called Pier Wedges.

Seasoned wedges, sour cream, green onions,

sweet chili sauce, bacon...it was heavenly.

Right - the tuna toss. We had sadly missed the first few days of heated competition, but apparently it was quite intense. The contestants had been whittled down to the finalists, and we had scored tickets to the event of the century (read: we had shown up). As a side note, Port Lincoln's population of 13,000 nearly doubles during Tunarama - just thought you'd like to know.

ANYway - the tuna toss consists of male and female contestants holding a massive weighted tuna-on-a-rope, swinging it around similar to an olympic hammer thrower, and letting it fly. The record was something ridiculous like 40m set by Thorvald Norgeis Gundarsson or something like that.

One of the ladies tosses her tuna.

This guy was pretty into it, but sadly was lacking

in the tossing department. And the judges don't

award points for kilts and afros.

Some guy ended up winning, but fell woefully short. Apparently I also got on the Sydney news, as one of my coworkers mentioned to me that following week (she had seen my face appear on a massive screen in a bar briefly).

With the majority of the Tunarama festivities completed, we were left to wander the town a bit more.

Obligatory shot of boat and birds.

We had beautiful weather while we were there,

as this shot of birds and trees clearly illustrates.

After we had had our fill of small-town antics, we started our walk of several miles back to the hotel (since the town's 3 taxis were busy at the time). With the help of the maps on our phones, we brazenly took what we was a fantastic shortcut back. This shortcut took us right back to the hotel...or, at least, to the massive bit of marina separating us from a shower. To put it simply, we were lost. Due to a bit of extra time in the sun, we all ended up with some rather spectacular tan lines. We finally made it back and were able to relax a bit before dinner, and a good night's sleep before the big day tomorrow.

The following morning, spirits were high.

The intricate ritual of calling the sharks begins...

Just behind us, the film 'The Birds' is being

reenacted. I hear there is a sequel coming

this summer. 'The Birds II: The Peckoning.'

There she is, our ride for the day - I don't

remember the actual name, but for the sake

of this post, I'll call her the Orca.

We set out early in the morning to the Neptune

Islands, well-known for being a place to find

sharks, being that it is a seal colony.

We finally reach the Islands a few hours later,

where a handful of seals are (apparently) lazing

listlessly on the rocks. Yeah, I couldn't see

any either.

Cage goes in the water, you go in the water.

Shark's in the water. Our shark.

Keep that chum line goin', Chief - we got

five good miles on him.

So, here's where reality sets in: nature, sadly, does not always come when called. It's not always as predictable as we would hope (I've been on enough 'whale watching' cruises to know this). As a result, after a solid 6 hours of chumming the water, floating every piece of a tuna imaginable, banging metal on metal, and even doing my fish-calling routine from Sesame Street, there were no sharks to be seen. Disappointed, sure, but I still hopped down into the cage to see what it was like.

The stank of fish guts in the water attracted all

manner of fish, just not the big ones we wanted.

It was a little gross once I realized I was sitting

in the water, swimming in fish guts.

They floated massive chunks of tuna out in the

water - fish heads, fish heads, roly-poly fish

heads.

The visibility was amazing - the clearest blue you could imagine, which helped us realize that there were definitely no sharks down there with us. A brief conversation with the cab driver on the way to the airport later revealed that - and I quote - "Yeah, you wouldn't see any this time of year." With some probing, I managed to get out of him the best time to see sharks. "Well, anytime but January, really."

Sweet.

BUT - the day was not about to end on a bitter note. On our way back to port, we stopped at another small island where we were told it was safe to go in the water. Skeptical, I looked out toward the shore. A group of happy seals stared at us, curiosity piqued. Not about to waste this moment, I jumped in the water and immediately saw the seals undulate in that seal-esque manner toward us, heads swaying back and forth, flippers flapping. The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by seals in the water.

They were certainly not shy, and took every

opportunity to come say hello.

When they were not floating lazily on the surface,

they took to the shallow water and performed

some playful acrobatics.

...or, they just floated there underwater. In

hindsight, I think this one may have been doing

an impression of me. Jerk.

Often times, they just sat on the bottom, watching.

You can almost read this one's eyes. 'Take me

home with you,' they say.

It would have been ironic if the sharks had picked

this very moment to make their appearance.

They didn't.

A few of the seals remained on the beach to

pose for photos / turn their adorable little noses

up haughtily.

I was SO close to stealing the little one and taking

it back with me. Ok, that's a lie - I was close to

taking both of them.

On the swim back to the boat, the seals still

wanted to play. Sorry, fella - gotta run.

A final look back at our playful little friends.

A short snooze later and we arrived back at port, where we received our vouchers to go again on a later date, given that we didn't see any shark-age. I will likely try and go back again in June / July to give it another shot.

We hung around for the remainder of the evening, and then went our separate ways in the morning. I had a slightly later flight, and a long layover in Adelaide on the way back, so we said our farewells that evening. Now, what was I going to do for 6 hours in Adelaide?

Hint: Visit the zoo!

I stored my bags at the airport and took a taxi to the Adelaide zoo, which I came to found out, was playing host to two pandas on loan from China, Wang Wang and Funi. With names like that, I had expectations of a comedy act or variety show. I got neither. The zoo was pretty fantastic, though, and I spent a few hours wandering around before my taxi back to the airport.