*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.
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.
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...
desert and low, rolling hills.
it looked like he was in Afghanistan.
fast enough for you.
long?
"Because it took me 3 hours to cross the street!"
Port Lincoln tracks.
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.
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.
That's ok - I think the US has a slide built to look
like the Australian Spanish Influenza epidemic
of 1918.
anything funny or insightful to say about this; I
just didn't realize camels were so big.
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.
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.
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...
reenacted. I hear there is a sequel coming
this summer. 'The Birds II: The Peckoning.'
remember the actual name, but for the sake
of this post, I'll call her the Orca.
Islands, well-known for being a place to find
sharks, being that it is a seal colony.
where a handful of seals are (apparently) lazing
listlessly on the rocks. Yeah, I couldn't see
any either.
Shark's in the water. Our shark.
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.
in the water, swimming in fish guts.
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.
they took to the shallow water and performed
some playful acrobatics.
hindsight, I think this one may have been doing
an impression of me. Jerk.
You can almost read this one's eyes. 'Take me
home with you,' they say.
this very moment to make their appearance.
They didn't.
pose for photos / turn their adorable little noses
up haughtily.
it back with me. Ok, that's a lie - I was close to
taking both of them.
wanted to play. Sorry, fella - gotta run.
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.
A Barbary sheep...who was actually within
reaching distance...
petting distance. Even I have my limits,
believe it or not.
by comparison.
you are a faceplant away from food.
until another one bothers to climb up there
and push him off.
I'm fairly certain the closest thing you'll find to
Scrat from Ice Age.
that.
certain temperature, most animals have a
genetic predisposition toward naptime.
water.
out. Ok, a goat - aside from the creepy goat
eyes, pretty normal.
to pet an actual deer. Normally they go
scampering off when you come within 25
miles of them.
Kerouac on a cold afternoon, and stealing your
girlfriend." I think the second box is a CYA
for the fact that they sometimes forget to feed
Claude. "No, he does that from time to time!"
*scoop...bin...*
because it's hilarious.
Jungle Cruise ride...
Come to think of it, I don't believe I've seen
a panda in person before.
bamboo and chomped away the entire time.
Still, they were amazing to see.
All in all quite a packed long weekend, but definitely worth the trip.