The silence is broken only by the sound of my breath through the regulator and the intermittent metallic clanging of the cage I find myself in. My bubbles rise steadily, rhythmically, calmly belying my nervous anticipation. The cage rocks in the mild current and I am alone, surrounded by dozens of mackerel and other small baitfish, swirling, darting through the cage and chasing bits of chum that have floated down to envelope me. I shoo them, like annoying flies. The rays of the sun pierce deeply into the cerulean water as I slowly rotate, looking, waiting for a distinctive shape to appear, not knowing where it will come from, and not knowing how I will react when it finally does. And then…the waiting is over.

Through the swarms of fish I see a shape take form, cruising leisurely towards me. I see that distinct toothy grin approach and then with an imperceptible flick of the tail he turns right toward a piece of hanging tuna. Eyeing it cautiously, while ignoring the hundreds of fish around him, he swims past and makes a great circle, disappearing back out into the blue and then, like a ghost, there he is, coming once again towards me. Another pass, eyeing both me and the fish, with those black eyes, yet I feel no fear. I am watching a master as he tries to assess if it is safe to approach and make a move. There is no frenzy or bloodlust as this powerful, graceful animal approaches yet a third time in a seemingly calculating manner.

Then, as if he made up his mind he turns yet again, and approaches with intent. A thrashing sweep of the tail launches him toward the tuna. Within seconds, the mouth opens wide and the upper jaw drops, exposing his teeth in a most menacing manner as he raises his head, lowers his pectoral fins, grabs then swallows. The line snaps and floats to the surface while he swims slowly away, then turning quickly, he dives and grabs a sinking morsel being greedily devoured by baitfish. He disappears into the blue.

I watched with awe as the great white shark passed. It was my first encounter and like many firsts in one’s life, I will never forget it. I spent 5 days observing these rulers of the sea, with the Shark Research Institute, off Isla Guadalupe, and in that time I observed the ultimate predator display caution and curiosity, yet no aggression, challenging the stereotype of a ruthless man-eater. I was as fascinated on day five as day one, running to gear up and get back in the cage whenever I heard someone shout, “Shark”

It was a personal journey where I stepped into an alien world and surfaced with a new understanding of this animal. Not once did I hear the da dum, da dum, soundtrack play in my mind nor feel the need to quote Roy Scheider when he said, “You gonna need a bigger boat.”