Now, as I sit in front of my computer, attempting to put the experiences of the past week into writing, I know that I will fail dismally in capturing the crazy excitement of being part of one of nature’s most impressive climatic events.

After a frustrating June working out of the port of East London, with only a few pockets of fast moving action and some huge seas, I admitted defeat and returned to my home in Cape Town. A few days later I received an excited call from Mark Addison of Blue Wilderness Diving Expeditions to say that he had done a recce in the Port St Johns area, to the north of East London, and had picked up a good baitball that included feeding brydes whales. Mark is the pioneer when it comes to diving with the sardine run so, when he gets excited, its time to get on the next available plane and that is exactly what I did.

Early the next morning we surf launched from Port Edward on the Kwa-Zulu Natal south coast and headed south by sea. Being a perfect sea day, we made good time. We decided to travel by sea rather than by road so that we could pick up any action en route. The coastline in this area is mostly untouched with the seabed quickly rising up to a rocky coast so, in spite of the low swell height that day, the waves were breaking heavily on the rocks, sending plumes of white spray high into the air. It was easy to see why this is named the “Wild Coast”. As we passed a pod of bottlenose dolphins, out for an early morning surf, I marvelled at the beauty and grace of nature.

Gannets can dive to over 20 metres

While we were enjoying the scenery, the lack of bird and dolphin action was of concern. Eventually, as we neared Port St Johns, we began to see common dolphins and Cape gannets swooping over the sea. These are the vital baitball indicators. The dolphins, operating in co-operative groups, work the sardines up from the deeper, cooler water, using a combination of their charging action and blowing bubbles. The gannets, their pure white plumage easily spotted from afar, are a vital tool for guiding us to the action. The gannets, along with a variety of other predators, take advantage of the common dolphin’s herding skills.

Suddenly we were on the action. Gannets flew over the baitball and the air was alive with their excited squawking. Others reigned down from above, hitting the water at an incredible 160 Km / hour with a loud thud. Once their impact velocity decreases, the gannets have the ability to use their wings and feet to continue chasing sardines to a depth of over 20 metres. Common dolphins were charging in from all sides. We could see sharks cruising near the water surface. One can only describe the scene as organised chaos. This is what I had waited for: it was time to get into the water.

Underwater, baitballs can be very noisy affairs, with the sound of plunging gannets mixed with dolphin clicks and distant humpback whale songs. These sounds add to the intense atmosphere. The predation on the baitball will sometimes go quiet for a short period, during which time the sardines regroup to form the classic round ball: thousands of little fish moving as if one entity. Then suddenly the dolphins charge in from below, exploding through the sardines in a curtain of bubbles. The sharks, hovering below, then come in for the attack. Once the baitball is sufficiently shallow, the gannets come into play.

Blacktip Sharks Fight over the Last Few Sardines

Looking towards the surface, I could see the birds flying overhead and plunging into the water, leaving a long line of silver bubbles behind them. It is impossible to describe the noise of the gannet’s aerial bombardment, being so intense that you can feel each of the thousands of thuds. It is like being in a war zone, adding to the feeling of exhilaration of being so close up to one of the planet’s greatest natural events.

From the second day we left for sea each morning at first light through the Port St Johns river estuary. The village looks up at a deep and imposing river gorge. Once at sea, looking back revealed the gorge shrouded in mist, and the flashing lighthouse perched on the sea cliffs. Bracing against the early morning winter chill we would immediately begin looking for action. An unforgettable sight is the sun, rising over the sea as a large red ball, with swooping gannets silhouetted against its brightness. The gannets, like us, were waited expectantly for sufficient light to start working. Once it was light enough to film we would enter the water. The 20 degree water temperature felt warm by comparison to that of the air.

It appears that this sardine run differed from those of previous years in that the biomass was far lower and did not penetrate as far as the Kwa-Zulu Natal south coast. This resulted in mostly small baitballs and a lot of very hungry and frustrated predators. The sharks became very aggressive on these small baitballs, perhaps seeing the divers as feeding competition.

From what I personally saw, the predators included common dolphins, bottlenose dolphins, Cape gannets, Cape cormorants, blacktip, copper, bull and dusky sharks, brydes whales and small tuna. During this time, humpback whales on their northern migrating, pass this area, entertaining us with huge breaches and underwater songs. Other sardine run predators, absent from this run, can include Cape fur seals, African penguins and even orca whales. This is a true meeting place of marine animals.

It was interesting to observe the different hunting strategies of the gannets and cormorants. The former use a combination of a high impact dive and wing action underwater whereas the cormorants rely on their webbed feet to propel them down from a floating position on the water surface. To my unscientific eye it appeared that the cormorants were the more successful of the two hunters.

Another striking difference in hunting techniques is found between the common and bottlenose dolphins. I have described how the common dolphins do the hard work in creating the shallow water baitballs. They are sleek, fast and serious predators. By comparison, the bottlenose dolphins are far more relaxed, swimming slowly through the sardines. When not feeding they spend time playing, jumping out of the water and even surfing, so you can’t fault their lifestyle.

Without doubt, the brydes whales were the highlight of this sardine run. While I have seen them on previous runs, this time they were on most baitballs. Normally timid, they were lunging past me at high speed, at times so close that the wash from their bodies would push my camera off frame. While not large by whale standards, having a 25 ton animal charge past you, mouth agape, is an unnerving experience. “Bryde”, pronounced “brooda”, is named after the Norwegian consul to South Africa, Johan Bryde, who helped set up the first whaling station in Durban, South Africa in 1908 (closed in the 1960’s). These whales are interesting in that the northern hemisphere population feed mostly on krill whereas the southern hemisphere whales feed on small shoaling fish, including sardines.

A Brydes Whale Storms the Baitball

The last day was particularly eventful. The sea water had become very dirty due to river water that had been pushed to the north by the prevailing current. After a slow start we found some action and jumped in. We found a tiny baitball with every predator competing for a mouthful. The sharks were charging through the fish, snapping at everything, there were gannets everywhere and the dolphins were not to be found lacking in enthusiasm either. This intense predation was putting fish scales, blood and guts into the water, thereby contributing to the poor visibility. As the size of the baitball diminished before our eyes, the aggression became more intense. I was hit hard in the leg and stomach, nearly loosing my camera. In the meantime, Mark was fending off sharks that were attacking me from all sides. The dusky sharks were the most aggressive and also the largest.

As I tried to fend off a large dusky, my hand was scratched on its razor sharp teeth and, when I saw blood streaming from it, I decided to get away from the carnage as quickly as possible. As I swam away from the baitball, I noticed that the dolphins and sharks were swimming past me tightly packed and gannets continued to dive close to me. I thought this unusual as the predators are normally only this concentrated when close to the action. On turning around I realised that the sardines were following closely behind me, seeking the only refuge in this orgy of feeding.

In underwater visibility that had, by now, deteriorated to only about 4 metres, Mark and I made for the surface where I was relieved to see our diving boat close at hand. I climbed aboard, leaving a rather unimpressive trail of blood in my wake. I have often marvelled at how one can dive with potentially dangerous sharks and mostly get away unscathed or with minor injuries. As the aeroplane approached Cape Town, I looked out of the window. Below me was the Cape Flats, covered by a thin mantle of mist, with a cloudless winter sky above. Further to the south lay False Bay with the iconic Table Mountain, reaching out to The Cape of Good Hope. I caught sight of Seal Island, famous for white shark breaches and the location for my next filming adventure with my towcam. At that moment I felt eternally grateful that I had not chosen accountancy as my profession.

“When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford”: Samuel Johnson (1777).

Why, however much I travel and dive in exotic locations, do I love to return to the often cold and murky waters of False Bay? It is a place with which I never tire. It may be the fact that I learnt to dive there many years ago or the amazing reef biodiversity or the fact that I can see anything there from white sharks, dolphins, seals and whales to a baitball as intense as any to be seen on the famous Natal Sardine Run. The kelp forests, that dominate the western shore of the Bay, support their own unique and complex ecosystems. Here may be found large sevengill sharks or small catsharks that roll into a ball, putting their tails over their eyes when held by a diver, thereby getting the local name of “skaamhaai” or “shyshark”.

A Cape Fur Seal Pauses for a Good Scratch

The reefs of False Bay may not host the colourful fish of the tropics but the vivid colours of the sea fans, sponges, sea urchins, sea anemones, nudibrachs etc more than compensate for this. These reefs are alive. Just drop a hydrophone into the water and listen to the crackle of the reef. This is often punctuated with the mournful songs of distant whales, the squeaks of dolphins and the characteristic grunts of cape fur seals. The reefs of False Bay can be noisy places.

A Typical False Bay Reef with High Biodiversity

False Bay is a large bay, flanked by Table Mountain to the west and the Hottentots Holland mountains to the east. To the north is the City of Cape Town while to the south stretches the southern Atlantic Ocean with the next large landmass being Antarctica. At the southernmost extremity of Table Mountain is Cape Point and further offshore the Agulhas Banks, the theoretical mixing zone for the cold Benguela and the temperate Agulhas Currents.

Geologically speaking, being part of Table Mountain, the rocks both above and below the surface of False Bay include hugh granite boulders. Granite, being an extremely hard rock, has withstood the onslaught of the sea for many millions of years. In fact, the geological process that formed Table Mountain began about 280 million years ago, making it one of the oldest mountains in the world (six times older than the Himalayas). These geological features result in the impressive reef structures of False Bay.

Whittle Rock in the Middle of False Bay

Besides the reefs, there are a number of good wreck sites in False Bay, mostly vessels scuttled to form artificial reefs. In Smitswinkel Bay, a bay on the western side of False Bay, there are five such wreck sites, richly covered by colourful marine growth. This is underwater photographic heaven.

There is a place in False Bay, conveniently positioned in the protection of the rocky coastline, called Pyramid Rock. Here a pointed rock protrudes through the thick kelp to the surface. This is a great place to dive with sevengill sharks as they cruise through the kelp forest.

It is not uncommon to have 10 or more sevengills around us, so unperturbed by our presence that they often bump into us. It is always fun to watch a relatively large shark swim through the kelp. Sevengills are rather prehistoric in appearance with their distinctive seven gills, the only fish with that number of gill slits.

While they appear very docile, sevengill sharks have been known to attack spearfishermen and sometimes feed on seals so they should, as with all sharks, be treated with respect.

Sevengill Sharks Come Close to Divers

The Distinctive Seven Gill Slits

A Sevengill Shark Cruises Overhead

A Sevengill Shark in the Kelp Forest

I have been working with tiger sharks for many years and, while they can become a bit aggressive near the baiting station, I have found them to be remarkably docile for a shark with the reputation of a dangerous “man-eater”.For a number of years we would attract tiger sharks by placing bait on the reef. This meant spending many hours in a strong current, often with little reward in the way of good footage. The breakthrough came with the drifting bait drum. This produces fast results and the cameraman drifts effortlessly in the current with the drum. However, as tiger sharks swimming around in a blue void can become repetitive, we still try to entice the sharks to the reef by slowly dropping the bait drum. Images of these very impressive sharks swimming over reef adds a welcome variation.While on a shoot for German Television channel ZDF, we were discussing how great it would be to have a dead turtle as bait. We had a single tiger shark working actively at the bait drum with the occasional glimpse of others. Then an amazing call came through. A large turtle carcass has been found on the beach close to where we were working. Before long we had a large turtle on our boat that smelt as if the “sell by” date was long gone.

The anticipation mounted as the turtle was attached to the bait line and for some time nothing much happened so we released the carcass and allowed it to drift in the current. A sole tiger shark that had swum up to the carcass a few times and given it a tentative bump, finally took a bite at a fear flipper and swam off. I battled to keep up with it but got some good close up sequences. In spite of the fact that the carcass was quite old, an impressive volume of blood seeped out. This seemed to excite the tiger shark that started shaking the turtle, creating the illusion that it was still alive.

The current was strong and, by now, the action was fast. As a result I was unable to position myself correctly and was now up-current of the action. In other words I was working in the chum slick. I was so engross with the filming I was only vaguely aware that more tiger sharks had arrived. The introduction of turtle blood into the water had a rapid and impressive affect on the sharks’ behaviour. The first thing that I noticed that the tiger sharks were turning fast and with purpose back onto us after being pushed away. This reaction was very different to their normally relaxed behaviour.I felt myself being pushed forward. I was told afterwards that a large tiger shark had my diving cylinder in its mouth. At the same time another shark was taking a great interest in my camera. Not wanting to scratch my expensive glass dome port, I turned the camera around to hit the shark side on. When reviewing the footage later, that movement revealed Mark kicking and hitting a third shark that was going for both of us. It was impossible to work safely in these condition so we made for the boat.

Once I had composed myself, I leant over the boat, camera in hand, just in time to film a shark swimming towards the camera with the bleeding turtle in its mouth. Soon the turtle was dragged towards the seabed and all went quiet on the surface.

The amazing thing about this encounter was that, in the space of a few minutes, one relaxed tiger shark became nine very hyped up tiger sharks. Evidently sardines in a bait drum are rather boring compared to a ripe turtle. During all of the previous days we had never had more that a few tiger shark around the bait. How quickly things change when the right stimulus is used: rather like whale blubber with white sharks. 

A large and very dead turtle joins the director and I for a short boat ride

A hesitant tiger shark eyes the turtle suspiciously

Finally the tiger shark comes in for the “kill”

Once committed the tiger shark becomes more aggressive

After a good few mouthfuls the tiger shark lets go

Cape Point is situated at the southernmost point of the Table Mountain National Park. This impressive sandstone headland, sculptured by the sea over millions of years, represents the theoretical boundary between the cold Atlantic and temperate Indian Oceans.

Sir Francis Drake, the first Englishman to round the Cape of Good Hope in 1580, described this unforgettable sight thus: “This Cape is a most stately thing, and the fairest Cape we saw in the whole circumference of the earth”.

While the inshore water is typically a cold and greenish 12 degrees C, the water about 40 kms offshore often 22 degrees C and blue, thanks to the Agulhas Current that sweeps southwards from the tropics. At this interface between cold and warm water is where much sealife is found. While famous for tuna and other gamefish, this area is also ideal for filming mako and blue sharks, seals, dolphins and pods of pilot whales.

The variety of sea birds life off Cape Point is astounding and includes penguins, gulls, cormorants, gannets, sheerwaters, various albatross and petrels. Little wonder that bird lovers from far afield come here to place more ticks on their bird lists.

We normally work near the “Canyon”, an area where the water depth quickly drops to 500 metres. However, the first quarter of 2009 has been a difficult time off our coast. The south easterly winds have persisted longer that normal and the water off Cape Point has often been cold and dirty with few tuna but with an increase in shark numbers.

I have been off Cape Point a number of times this summer. My most recent trip was on a day with green water and, therefore, I had few expectations but I had an interesting experience. On finding a raft of cape fur seals and some small blue sharks I jumped in with my camera. Below me I saw the familiar sight of longfin and yellowfin tuna darting in on our bait but the visibility was only about 6 metres.

We started throwing sardines into the water to bring the tuna to the surface, thereby making filming easier. As was usually the case, the seals were not interested in dead fish and only played with our sardine bait but the blue sharks had other ideas, darting in between the seals for the food. However, every time a blue shark went for a sardine, the seals would chase it away, often flowing the shark’s tail in a playful rather than an aggressive manner. This reminded me of the sardine run where I have witnessed seals “tailgating” blacktip sharks feeding on sardine baitballs.

This appeared to be a case of seals having some fun but, when they react in a similar fashion with white sharks, it is a matter of survival. If a white shark is unsuccessful in its initial attack, the seal will position itself behind the shark and follow its tail until it sees an opportunity to make a break for the safety of the island. Could it be that the seals, when amongst non-threatening sharks such as blacktips and blue sharks, practice for the real thing?

A few weeks later I returned to the Canyon once more. On this occasion the water was blue, the underwater visibility was 20 metres and there were more blue sharks in the water than I had ever seen before. As far as the eye could see in any direction there were blue sharks. They bumped the bait drum, swam into me as if I was not there and kept biting the monitor on my underwater housing. No problem with close-up shots on that day.