Rodney Fox - Sharks, the Sea and Me

Contents

Preface

Chapter 1: Death at Victor Harbor

Chapter 2: Octopus Club

Chapter 3: Two Horrific Attacks

Chapter 4: Spearfishing Champion

Chapter 5: Attacked by a Great White Shark

Chapter 6: Return to the Sea

Chapter 7: Powerhead

Chapter 8: Noumea

Chapter 9: The First Shark Cage

Chapter 10: Abalone Adventures

Chapter 11: Sharks and Abs

Chapter 12: Blue Water White Death

Chapter 13: Jaws: Hollywood in South Australia

Chapter 14: Mysteries of the Sea

Chapter 15: Caged in Fear

Chapter 16: Shark Cage to the Sea Floor

Chapter 17: The Christian Bach and Fluffy

Chapter 18: Underwater Eden

Chapter 19: National Geographic Shark Expeditions

Chapter 20: First Voyage of the Christian Bach

Chapter 21: Under Arrest

Chapter 22: Piccaninnie Ponds

Chapter 23: Last Voyage of the Christian Bach

Chapter 24: Hammerhead

Chapter 25: Deadly Chain Mail

Chapter 26: Expedition to the North-west

Chapter 27: Whale Sharks at Ningaloo Reef

Chapter 28: Kimberley Adventures

Chapter 29: Meg Fever

Chapter 30: Reunion

Chapter 31: The Fox Shark Research Foundation

Chapter 32: Super Teachers

Chapter 33: Eye to eye

Extras

Sharks still need our help

Shark-spotting

Awards

Films and documentaries

Acknowledgements

Plates

Preface

I have always been drawn to the waters edge and beyond to go beachcombing, boating and diving. When I got my first goggles and flippers at 13, I was amazed at the sight of so many species of fish. I was soon spearfishing each weekend, honing my hunter-gatherer instincts. Fish were plentiful and I brought home many delicious meals of fish, lobsters and scallops to feed our family of seven.

Sharks, the Sea and Me recalls the events and highlights that shaped my life, in particular how a terrifying chance encounter with a great white shark influenced almost everything that came afterwards. Many of my adventures occurred when I was diving for abalone or leading shark expeditions for filmmakers, photographers, journalists and tourists. From the National Geographic Society to Disney, Universal Studios, Discovery Channel and IMAXthey all want exciting close-up action, big teeth and jaws. But each film crew demands a fresh approach, new ideas to try, and when working with big sharks in the wild, strange and unexpected things are bound to happen.

Some of the activities that occurred in the early days are not considered above-board today, but have been written as they happened at the time. There was a saying: The best shark is a dead shark. Now sharks are better understood and represented by passionate conservation groups, some inspired by the films and articles I have been part of. I do not dwell on the science, biology and research of our Fox Shark Research Foundationthat is for another bookbut on elements that led to my understanding and desire to help the sharks.

Of course, sharks are not the whole of my journey. Mine has been a fulfilling, eventful life, shared with much help, love and understanding from my wife Kay and our three children Andrew, Lenore and Darren.

Chapter 1
Death at Victor Harbor

The sea conditions were far from what wed hoped for. The big ocean swell rolling into the bay crashed noisily onto the beach, building up a bank of brown seaweed. The day before, strong south-westerly winds had made the water dirtyreally poor visibility for spearfishing. The cold wind, now easing, had left the water sloppy and confused, not much good for anything.

Feeling dejected, Des, Bruce and I leant on Des Follands catamaran at the boat ramp at Victor Harbor. It was mid-morning on Easter Friday, 1962. We had planned this trip for weeks, looking forward to some wonderful spearfishing and diving over the four-day Easter break. My lovely girlfriend Kay and I had hired a four-berth caravan with my good mate and diving buddy Bruce Farley and his wife Colleen. We expected to catch and eat lots of fish. I was a happy and fit 21-year-old, and felt wonderful. This was the first time Kays mother had allowed her to go away with me and sleep in the same roomon condition we had single beds and shared with a married couple. I was excited, as there was a small chance I could progress to a bit more than just a kiss and cuddle. Kay had been my serious girlfriend for three years; she was a good Catholic girl and the love of my life.

As Bruce, Des and I looked out to sea, a police car drove down the boat ramp, dodging large mounds of seaweed. Two policemen climbed out and one asked, Are you divers?

Were spearfishermen, I said. Skindivers. We dive holding our breaths.

He explained that five fishermen had been washed off the rocks by a king wave on nearby Wright Island. Two scrambled out and two swam to the lee of the island, but one was still missing. Would we help? We gingerly agreed, thinking this was not a good start to our holiday.

We quickly pulled on our wetsuits and put our masks, snorkels, fins and weights into the three-metre boat. Bruce and Des pushed and juggled the boat through the breaking surf and, motor running, gunned it out through the waves. I parked the car and trailer then swam out to join the boat waiting at the back of the break. We made our way up and over the two-metre swells to the island, where fishing boats were combing the sloppy seas. One came closer and a man pointed to a huge, sloping granite rock.