Sometimes the adventure is in our own back yard!
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It was one of those picture-perfect days you always hope for but rarely get on the Gulf. A deep blue sky held puffy white cumulus clouds while a light breeze took the edge off the summer heat. The Gulf herself was nearly flat, with seas running only a foot or two on a long even swell. It hadnt rained in a while, so the water was exceptionally clear, an infinite emerald with light dancing into the depths, the occasional silver flash from some passing Jack or King Mackerel or Bonito punctuating the deep dark where the light seemed to vanish. The water was cool but comfortable all the way to the bottom; winters thermocline had finally retreated to the depths for the summer season. We were in heaven.
Anchored over a small patch of rock bottom in the endless sand a few miles off Perdido Key, Sunday's second dive started out with a slight wrinkle... my buddy was late showing up at the bottom, so I headed out by myself, easing along looking for dinner. I cocked my speargun and began an expanding square search roughly centered around an old tire on the bottom. Nothing. The snapper I'd seen on the way down had suddenly disappeared, which was a little odd but not disconcerting - still, I wondered why.
Suddenly a big Crevalle came by my right side, and my immediate thought was that he was the reason the snapper had taken cover - then another and another, then two big redfish. Suddenly, I was surrounded by dozens of the big Jack Crevalle and hundreds of two to three foot long, delicious, beautiful red drum, flashing golden and gorgeous through the clear gulf water! They were circling me, going in both directions! I'd never seen anything quite like this in over thirty years of diving. It was remarkable, beautiful, mesmerizing and I brought my gun to bear on several nice reds but wasn't quite satisfied with the shot yet - something wasn't right. These fish were moving too fast. Too skittish, too much energy being wasted in behavior that obviously has nothing to do with feeding... why, these big fish were acting more like minnows in a baitball than the large gulf predators they are... and for some reason they've obviously chosen me as a center of the ball. No, something else is going on here...
Suddenly, all comes clear -
Shark!
Big shark!
Two big sharks!
Two big heavy bodied sharks, and two more smaller ones.
Not just "cruising by" sharks, not "lucky to see" sharks, unapproachable, marvelous interesting sharks - no...
These are big, stocky, back up pectorals down maneuvering quickly and purposefully hunting feeding hungry serious Bull sharks intent on herding the school of Crevalle and Reds, and me in the middle of it all! Suddenly the biggest one (estimate 350 pounds, 7-8 feet) flipped and headed directly at me, with speed and purpose. All I could think to do was raise the speargun, realizing that I had no chance of doing any real damage to him, but maybe enough to discourage him with a poke in the nose. Just out of speargun range he veered off suddenly, passing on my left. As I turned to keep him in sight I could feel the dragon crawling up my spine as I was forced to turn my back on the other big shark. Why, oh why had I not waited for my buddy, my wingman - anyone to cover my six and help me keep both those big boys in sight? By now I had started a slow, deliberate, non-threatening "I am definitely not the food you want" ascent... Two full minutes - an eternity - from the sixty-odd feet where we'd started. The baitball of big fish and the hunting sharks stayed with me for awhile, but thankfully began to drop below me as I cleared 30 feet or so. No safety stop today, thank you. I surfaced about 50 yards from the boat, then dropped and made a slow, deliberate swim back there just deep enough so as not to be flopping around on the surface like a wounded fish, all the while keeping my head on a swivel, watching for the sharks, catching the occasional glimpse of them still working the baitball beneath me.
As I got to the boat, I didn't even need to ask my buddy if he's seen 'em too, as he was already climbing in, speargun still cocked and aimed below.
God, I loved it!
Rick
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It was one of those picture-perfect days you always hope for but rarely get on the Gulf. A deep blue sky held puffy white cumulus clouds while a light breeze took the edge off the summer heat. The Gulf herself was nearly flat, with seas running only a foot or two on a long even swell. It hadnt rained in a while, so the water was exceptionally clear, an infinite emerald with light dancing into the depths, the occasional silver flash from some passing Jack or King Mackerel or Bonito punctuating the deep dark where the light seemed to vanish. The water was cool but comfortable all the way to the bottom; winters thermocline had finally retreated to the depths for the summer season. We were in heaven.
Anchored over a small patch of rock bottom in the endless sand a few miles off Perdido Key, Sunday's second dive started out with a slight wrinkle... my buddy was late showing up at the bottom, so I headed out by myself, easing along looking for dinner. I cocked my speargun and began an expanding square search roughly centered around an old tire on the bottom. Nothing. The snapper I'd seen on the way down had suddenly disappeared, which was a little odd but not disconcerting - still, I wondered why.
Suddenly a big Crevalle came by my right side, and my immediate thought was that he was the reason the snapper had taken cover - then another and another, then two big redfish. Suddenly, I was surrounded by dozens of the big Jack Crevalle and hundreds of two to three foot long, delicious, beautiful red drum, flashing golden and gorgeous through the clear gulf water! They were circling me, going in both directions! I'd never seen anything quite like this in over thirty years of diving. It was remarkable, beautiful, mesmerizing and I brought my gun to bear on several nice reds but wasn't quite satisfied with the shot yet - something wasn't right. These fish were moving too fast. Too skittish, too much energy being wasted in behavior that obviously has nothing to do with feeding... why, these big fish were acting more like minnows in a baitball than the large gulf predators they are... and for some reason they've obviously chosen me as a center of the ball. No, something else is going on here...
Suddenly, all comes clear -
Shark!
Big shark!
Two big sharks!
Two big heavy bodied sharks, and two more smaller ones.
Not just "cruising by" sharks, not "lucky to see" sharks, unapproachable, marvelous interesting sharks - no...
These are big, stocky, back up pectorals down maneuvering quickly and purposefully hunting feeding hungry serious Bull sharks intent on herding the school of Crevalle and Reds, and me in the middle of it all! Suddenly the biggest one (estimate 350 pounds, 7-8 feet) flipped and headed directly at me, with speed and purpose. All I could think to do was raise the speargun, realizing that I had no chance of doing any real damage to him, but maybe enough to discourage him with a poke in the nose. Just out of speargun range he veered off suddenly, passing on my left. As I turned to keep him in sight I could feel the dragon crawling up my spine as I was forced to turn my back on the other big shark. Why, oh why had I not waited for my buddy, my wingman - anyone to cover my six and help me keep both those big boys in sight? By now I had started a slow, deliberate, non-threatening "I am definitely not the food you want" ascent... Two full minutes - an eternity - from the sixty-odd feet where we'd started. The baitball of big fish and the hunting sharks stayed with me for awhile, but thankfully began to drop below me as I cleared 30 feet or so. No safety stop today, thank you. I surfaced about 50 yards from the boat, then dropped and made a slow, deliberate swim back there just deep enough so as not to be flopping around on the surface like a wounded fish, all the while keeping my head on a swivel, watching for the sharks, catching the occasional glimpse of them still working the baitball beneath me.
As I got to the boat, I didn't even need to ask my buddy if he's seen 'em too, as he was already climbing in, speargun still cocked and aimed below.
God, I loved it!
Rick
