One morning Gary, Elizabeth, and I decided to go for a dive. We’re off the FL Keys and shark tales are just that… tales. We headed about three miles offshore and reached our destination. Gary and I jumped in the water, spears in hand, as Elizabeth grabbed a spinner and began fishing from the boat. A huge snapper here, and an enormous grouper there, we were quickly 200 meters away from our boat. Elizabeth held the reigns on our vessel as Gary and I scoured the sea for dinner.
Before long, Gary had shot a snapper, and I, a grouper…both too big for our weak little spears (Yeah, that’s right. I’m blaming the spears, not our skills). Gary descended again, this time for the kill. The end of his spear held the biggest snapper I had ever seen. Knowing we had two bleeding fish under the rocks below us, I went down to grab a grouper with my own spear before heading back to the boat. When I headed down, I saw I shark. This was no ordinary shark. This was a type of shark that I had never seen before, and that’s all I needed to know.
For the past year, all I’ve seen are nurse sharks. They’re harmless, and they’ll leave you alone, if you leave them alone. Well, as noted before, this was no ordinary shark, so I quickly came to the surface and said to my brother, “Gary, that’s not a nurse shark.” He replied, “Where?” as I pointed to the 4-ft. black tipped reef shark. He looked at me and said, “No, that’s not a nurse shark… Let’s go.” As we kicked… scurried… toward our boat in the distance, we rolled on our backs and discussed the possible nature of the shark. “Was that a mako shark?” Gary said, “No, I think it was a black tipped reef shark.” He told me to have my spear ready just in case, and I positioned my sling around my spear ready to shoot anything that came near us. Right, “What the hell was I gonna do to a shark?” As I searched the clear blue water at my feet for any signs of movement, I replied, “Oh, well I heard that reef sharks are pretty harmless….” BUMP.
Right against my right shoulder. I thought I must’ve run into Gary, so I turned to apologize and found myself staring at a decent-sized shark. It swung past me, biting my arm with three teeth, and went right up to Gary’s feet. Realizing we were in trouble, my basic instincts kicked in. My left hand shakily positioned my spear as my eyes stayed surface level with the shark and Gary. The 6-foot shark was positioned between Gary’s legs. The shark was thrashing about, as reef sharks often do when they smell blood and want to feast on their dinner. I held the spear, pointed straight out in front of me, ready to shoot if need be, but not sure if I should risk shooting Gary in the leg. “Is it worth the risk if I’m going to watch my brother get swallowed by a monster shark?” Before I had time to answer that question, Gary dropped the spear holding the biggest snapper of all time. He continuously kicked and punched at the shark until finally it turned it’s sights on me. The spear was already in position when it headed my way. My self-defense instinct took control, and I held the spear in front of me. As I released the sling, the shark pretty much forced it’s open jaws onto the spear. Knowing this was our last weapon to use for self-defense, I pulled the spear back and felt it release from the flesh at the back of the shark’s throat. When I saw the stream of blood leak from it’s mouth, I knew I had had part revenge for the scare he was giving me at the time.
He swam off as Gary grabbed the spear from me. I didn’t know he still held his own sling from before, so I tried to push my sling in his hands. As I did this, I noticed he was looking below the water’s surface. “What is he looking at?” I thought at first. Then I realized he must want to retrieve that snapper he speared. With that, I yelled to him, “Gary, forget it! Let’s go! I’ve been bit! I’ve been bit!” He took one look at my arm, saw the blood streaming down, and said, “Let’s go.” (Of course, he was looking for the shark, not the snapper… or so I’m hoping!!!) I’ll never forget those couple of minutes we kicked back to the boat together. As our heads spun around and around looking for “our little friend,” Gary hung onto the spear and sling in one hand, ready to attack at any given moment. His free hand pushed me along (as one is a much more powerful swimmer than the other). I used my left arm to hold pressure to the right bicep to prevent too much blood from trickling down into the water. I kept my right arm lifted in the air as high as I could. The two sharks must’ve been happy with Gary’s prize-sized snapper because we made it back to the boat alive. Selfishly, and very happily, I jumped into the boat first. Gary followed suit, only to have the anchor up in a record: .0076 seconds. Elizabeth actually stopped to ask, “Do I have permission to cut this sling to stop the bleeding?” This is how serious we are about our gear. I looked at her and in all seriousness said, “Yes. You do.” She tied it tightly around my shoulder to reduce blood flow and held pressure to the wound with towels. I just sat there and laughed. “Did that really just happen? Let me get this straight.
We just got attacked by a shark?”
I made it to the emergency room. Only 19 stitches. I insisted the doctor do a terrible job; It would only improve the life-long shark tale. We’re all okay and the wound is so small I thought, “Why not share a good story?” had to make up for it somewhere.
One lesson I did learn, never wear red fingernail polish out to sea; You never know when your sister-in-law may think that your fingers have just been bitten off by a reef shark.
I hope to see you all in the Florida Keys. I promise, Gary and I will be there with the boat waiting.
