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Published: February 28th 2008
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Really the only thing we all planned to do specifically on this trip was to go cage diving with Great White Sharks and today, we attempted to do just that. The results were a little different than we expected.
We arose early - like 5:00 am early and headed out on the 1 ½ hour drive to Gaans Baai (Goose Bay). It was my turn to drive (Mom can’t drive a stick so the boys have been alternating). Let me just say this: the driver sits on the right side, the stick is to the left and you drive on the wrong side of the road here which is all part of some parting shot at Americans by the British Empire which was still stinging from that whole revolution thing when they came up with the system.
Anyway, it being my turn at the wheel it was of course foggy and rainy and any other meteorological phenomenon that can reduce visibility was at play but we arrived safely at our destination nonetheless. Our fellow adventurers were a mélange of Brits, Dutch folks, maybe a couple of Afrikaners, some young and pretty folks with the dudes trying to impress the
babes with their adventurous machoness, and our intrepid six.
I was expecting a pretty good-sized boat and a plodding trek to a shark-filled destination where Great Whites vied with each other for their place in line to try and eat me. I was wrong on all counts.
The boat was relatively tiny and barely accommodated the 18 of us plus 5 or so crew. The trip out was swift but it was a frigging E-Ticket, premium roller coaster in 15 foot swells. When we fell off the first big wave and into its trough we hit with a spine-jarring impact that might possibly have caused me a back injury if my testicles had not helpfully swung into a position from which they could cushion my fall. I stood from then on, gripping a chrome rail (the nautical equivalent of an automotive “oh shit” handle) and riding out the chop like a kid on a trampoline.
When we arrived in shark alley (you have seen this on TV - it is near “Seal Island” and is where virtually all footage of Great Whites is filmed) and were briefed by our very funny guide (“if the boat were to
sink, there are exits all around”). Then began the chumming of the waters and the waiting.
The swells had not abated after we dropped anchor. The boat rose and fell and rose and fell and listed port and listed starboard and rose and fell again. The delightful aroma of chum (fish guts) and the visual of the bait (floating fish heads and torsos) filled those senses as the boat rose and fell and listed and bobbed. The first indication of trouble came from one of the cute young ladies in a lovely little bikini top who demurely leaned over the port bow and oh so delicately enjoyed a liquid belch. Then one of the pretty group girls went to the starboard rail and did the same. Soon it was like that scene out of “The Meaning of Life” as the addition of vomit sound and smell combined with that of the chum and the movement of the boat. My friends, it was a barf-o-rama.
My years of sailing with Adam have made me essentially immune to seasickness but as I looked around I noticed that Cathy and Dave were a bit green around the gills. None of our
six joined the vomit comet but the deck was lined with most of the others with their faces lying on the cool rails in their cute bikinis and such gently moaning. The macho dudes had lost their macho along with the complimentary boxed breakfast which had been thoughtfully provided buy our guides.
Worse, there were no sharks. They chummed and baited and switched locations to no avail. They sent some of us (Adam and I included) into the cage to flop about and do our best sea lion imitation. As a consolation, they took us in illegally close to Seal Island so we could photograph its 40,000 residents. This too turned to tragedy when one of the cute and furry little guys got caught in one of our propellers and was launched hemorrhaging in the air. The puking girls were disconsolate as the skipper - in an impressive display of spin - loudly assured them that this particular seal had been dead for some time. Adam and I looked at each other and back to the still twitching seal and gave the captain barely perceptible nods of appreciation for his chutzpah.
Let me put it this way, they
didn’t sell any of the DVDs of our great shark adventure they filmed that day.
Part 2 of the day (by Cathy)
After a few wrong turns and a scare of almost running out of gas, we make it to Stanford for lunch and decide to head to the southernmost tip of Africa and hopefully improve our lot for the day. After a refreshing lunch at a bakery, we load back into the car with Dave at the wheel. I’m vague on the details of the next portion as I sleep through most of it but awake a few miles from the tip. We round the curve and there was the lighthouse. The road to the end of the Dark Continent is a gravel one and we slowly make it to the marker and see both the Indian and Atlantic Ocean. Few photo ops and we dip our toes in both oceans; well, I did as Adam pointed out we’re in the Atlantic all the time. It didn’t faze me or the Thompson’s and we troop into both locations. Few more shots of the lighthouse and then off to the longest white sand beach in the Southern Hemisphere. Back into our Corolla and home after an exhausting day.
Tomorrow we are off to the Bush and will report from there. Amanda/Dave have concocted a theory that because Table Mountain was fogged in and we didn’t see a shark, that the safari is going to be, in their word, “Rockin!”
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Judy Kay (Mom)
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Relief for Lillian
Everyone in Illinois is relieved that Aunt Cathy was not eaten by sharks. When Lillian found out her Aunt Cathy was to dive with the sharks she became very upset. She told her Mom and Dad that Cathy should not get in the water with sharks because she was very afraid of sharks (childhood story that still lives). She even wrote a letter to send to Cathy to warn her to stay out of the water. Relief aside, it looks and sounds as if you are having a great time. I am looking forward to your next entry. Love, Mom