Hong Kong takes the pledge

Hong Kong is leading the movement to SAY NO to shark fin soup! And in doing so, changing the world.


Paul and I spent a week in Hong Kong last month working with some really inspiring people. You see, Shark Savers is extending their Shark Fin Soup campaign to Hong Kong and we are fortunate enough to lead the media side of things. We shot in Hong Kong for a week, interviewing people who had given up shark fin soup and capturing their very personal, poignant stories on film. It is thru their words this story will be told.



We talked to a woman who found a finned whale shark alive on a beach and told her story to the world ensuring 10,000’s of people never ate shark fin soup again, a father who stopped eating shark fin soup the day his (now four year old) son turned one month old and he was expected to celebrate with shark fin soup at his banquet, a famous director who’s six year old daughter asked him to stop eating shark fin and since then he has become an outspoken advocate even hosting a A-lister party where imitation shark fin soup was served, several bold wedding couples who bucked the system, stood up to their parents and didn’t serve shark fin soup at their weddings, a new mom who announced her pregnancy on camera and said her motivation for talking with us was to ensure her child was able to see sharks in the wild, a classroom full of kids who are taking on their community, the leader of a campaign that has 160 schools saying no to shark fin soup, and many, many other passionate individuals.


Most of our trips in the field are depressing as all our senses are assaulted with the bleak realities we shark conservationists have accepted as part of our daily reality. This trip filled me with hope as I came face to face with people really making a difference every day. I know now things can change. And they are.

See the trailer we produced as teaser for the film series and check out the movement sweeping Hong Kong.

Say No to Shark Fin Soup - Campaign Launches in China!

The last six months have been hectic, with both Paul and me working on several global shark campaigns with some incredibly talented and passionate folks (and thus, the long pause in postings!). This month, the first campaign “Say No to Shark Fin Soup” launches in China. And we couldn’t be more excited about its potential.

(English version of the online site... Brilliant design and illustrations by Paul Wildman. And fantastic pictures from Eric Cheng. Be sure to check out the compelling video from Shawn Heinrichs as well.)

“Say No to Shark Fin Soup” is a grassroots campaign, geared specifically at primary consumers of Shark Fin Soup, in the hopes of igniting a positive awareness movement regarding shark fin soup and empowering consumers to make a difference by choosing not to consume it. Working closely with WildAid, Shark Savers is launching the campaign on and offline in conjunction with a new Yao Ming PSA (which Shark Savers played a large role in funding).

(PSA in English - check out the site for the Mandarin version. This PSA is playing on several channels in China.)

This is a full-fledged advocacy campaign that allows consumers of shark fin in China to take direct, meaningful action and curb demand and gives them all the tools they need to do so!

In addition to the PSA, we are placing 1000 outdoor billboards in Shanghai and Beijing to further our reach. Last month, our fundraising drive was OUTRAGEOUSLY successful, with us almost doubling our goal in a matter of weeks. We are so thrilled with the outpouring of support and all of the concerned people around the world willing to put their money where their mouth is, so to speak, for sharks! We are still raising funds, as we hope to extend the campaign to other cities, like Hong Kong and the U.S., so if you haven’t done so, please consider buying a billboard. For only $100 dollars, you can buy a billboard for a whole year.. And it works! Last year, WildAid had 200 billboards in Beijing for 3 months and 19% of Beijingers responding remembered having seen the boards and 82% of those people said they would stop or reduce their consumption of shark fin soup.

(This year's billboard - going up on bus stops all over China!)

As an important part of the campaign, we developed an online component complete with four grass roots campaigns that include downloadable materials and an additional video that should greatly magnify the impact of the campaign. Everything has been designed and written for the primary consumers of shark fin soup.

The PSA and billboards featuring Yao Ming are designed to bring awareness and then, the website is provided to allow them to learn more. As people come to the web site for more information, they will discover three persuasive reasons not to eat the soup, which were developed based on considerable research into the target audience:

1) Shark can contain high concentrations of toxic mercury

2) Shark fin soup is the primary cause of the rapid and severe eradication of sharks

3) Sharks play a critical role in the ocean environment and their elimination can be highly destructive to the oceans and our future marine food supply

As far as we know, this is the first campaign of its kind for sharks in China. And, taken together with the PSA and billboards, the campaign is probably the most integrated and far-reaching conservation campaign ever conducted in China.

(Chinese version of the printable handout for restaurants - requesting them to stop serving shark fin soup.)

The advocacy campaign allows consumers of shark fin in China take a pledge to "Say 'no' to shark fin soup" following in Yao's (big) footsteps. Then, we empower them to take even more action - ranging from helping brides to make important decisions at their weddings to enabling diners to approach restaurants serving shark fin soup to appealing to corporations to act ethically during business dinners - with a series of downloadables. We are putting it all into the hands of those who can make the biggest difference for sharks.

The site launched last week in China as part of WildAid's Chinese web site in both English and Mandarin. (Can you believe the Shark Savers site is banned there?) We are in the process of integrating this into Shark Savers web site as we extend the campaign to all parts of the world - starting with the U.S. - in 2010.

(More downloadables - an educational brochure in Mandarin.)

What we will do for the love of the oceans...

(Hood mounted Landie Cam captures the moment)

Paul and I decided to head to Mozambique for a few weeks to accomplish two tasks: 1) see for ourselves the state of sharks and finning operations having received many reports that Southern Africa and in specific, Mozambique, is under attack, and 2) to see the whale sharks and manta rays that Tofu is famous for ourselves – craving a bit of live (rather than dead) elasmobranch action. So we packed up my new car with everything including the kitchen sink and the freezer and the table and the cupboard contents and the… well, you get the picture… and headed out. Note to self: do not travel to Mozambique with an old map and no GPS.

I have always been a two-seater, convertible, [German] sports car driver, but when I made the leap and bought a car in South Africa, I knew I needed something a little more practical. I seem to have spanned to the other end of the spectrum, perhaps remembering the childhood toy I cherished – a miniature camper caravan with a pop up tent, bunk beds, and a full kitchen. Everything you needed to go anywhere in the backyard. I now own that vehicle – in the form of a dark blue Land Rover Defender, complete with a tent on the roof, an ammunition safe, drawers and drawers of tools, a spare water tank, a solar shower, an ax, a spade and a bajillion other things that basically makes my vehicle a home on wheels. Second note to self: do not, under any circumstances, allow Paul to be responsible for deciding what is a necessity and what is not. The man would travel with only the clothes on his back, a machette and a bag of biltong for a week in the bush. Oh and a high-lift Jack which somehow we forgot this time and whose omission we nearly paid a very dear price for.

(My new "little girl" the day I bought her in Capetown.)

I quickly learned that in Africa, the journey is a large (VERY LARGE) part of the adventure. And, plans, routes, destinations, heck, even road signs are really not necessary parts of the equation – because anything can happen in Africa, and now I have been here long enough to say, and it usually does.

After we left the highways a few hours away from the border of Mozambique, the travel became slow-going due to the fact the road was literally just a series of potholes laced together with small patches of asphalt. But, the bigger problem was avoiding hitting anything. You see, the roads in South Africa attract a variety of life ranging from chickens, to cows to humans. We quickly engaged in our favorite game to pass the time: “goat, cow, dog, chicken or pig”. Basically, you chose which animal you are going to see next on the side of the road (WITHOUT a fence between you and it) and the winner gets a point if they call the animal correctly (pigs and chickens count for 5 and donkeys, 10.) Every few hundred meters you are sure to run into something. This time I stuck with goats and won – 28 to 12.

(Another game called "Dodge the potential Road Kill")

It wasn’t until we crossed the border though, that the true excitement began. It was getting late in the afternoon, and we were hours off of our schedule – mostly due to the slow roads we hadn’t predicted, a crisis that necessitated I send an email, and my last minute trip to acquire a new Malaria prevention drug as I was already growing tired of the Lariam induced spider nightmares – but that is a different story.

As soon as we passed border control, it was like we had entered some strange “Land of the Lost” set. Seriously, the roads and all forms of humanity simply disappeared. We were presented with a series of treacherous sand paths that snaked through valleys and dunes, precariously up steep inclines and around sharp bends, with no signs, only our instinct to determine which one might lead us to Maputo. Adding to the stress was the fact that the sun was starting to set, our car was so top heavy that we were ready to tip over at any moment, it was threatening rain…

Before leaving South Africa, Paul wanted to be sure to fill the two “Jerry Cans” on our roof full of diesel. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but only learned of it while the plan was in action, so couldn’t have too much of an opinion. However, when the car started to smell like diesel – Paul told me “no biggie”. It wasn’t until diesel was literally pouring into our open windows that he realized both of our fuel cans were leaking. Severely. Our only option was to take the precious water jugs I had purchased in South Africa not wanting to repeat a Burma incident (small boat with one bathroom and rancid water which caused violent illness amongst my whole family), and use all 6 of them, ugh, to wash the now looming fire hazard on wheels. There I was, middle of nowhere, standing on the car roof soaping it up with dish detergent by hand and then dribbling water down it trying to keep my solid footing as the car became increasingly slippery…

Stinking of diesel, we continued the journey driving for hours on random paths using random logic to indicate to ourselves we must be on the right path. “Well, I see an abandoned stump that might have been used to sell tourist trinkets. This must be the right path.” Suddenly, we were spit out on a dirt road that had potholes filled with water so deep, a few of them might have had their own names as lakes. And now it was dark. I would scream the location of the pit and Paul would attempt to slow down enough to not leave a wheel behind. We slipped and slid over the mud attempting to make progress. There was one enjoyable moment as we left a brand new Jeep Cherokee in our mud trail as the driver struggled to keep his pseudo-off road vehicle on the road. “Shoulda bought a Landie” Paul sang out with glee. Another note to self: never be too smug about someone else having problems with their car. Karma always has a way of sorting you out.


After three hours, we came to a barricade and police officers. Relieved, I knew that we could at least ask directions. Paul went to get out of the car, and that is when I noticed the bugs. Millions and millions of flying ants on steroids. In a scene straight from an Alfred Hitchcock movie, the one spotlight shining on the road illuminated a gruesome site. The sky was alive with them. They began to stack up on the windshield – six ants deep. I could see Paul and the policeman were covered with them, both acting as non-chalant as possible as ants the size of Pez dispensers crawled down their backs. After ten minutes in the bugs, Paul came back to the car complete with directions and hundreds of stragglers. I had no choice but to let him in after he tried to brush them off as best he could.

He was full of information. Yes we are on the right path, but the policeman gave us a detour, as the roads we were traveling on got way worse past the barricade. Seriously, I thought? What is worse than this??? Oh, and the ants? They come out when it rains. We are about to get drenched, he said. I figured that would be a good thing. Um… no.

If we thought the roads were treacherous before, we were now traveling in a torrential downpour as thick mud coated our car. We had been driving for 12 hours now, and most of it a challenge. I was so happy to reach the outskirts of Maputo… until Paul asked me what the little red light on the dashboard meant. A quick check of the manual indicated the transmission was “wound up” due to the use of the differential lock system. The diff lock system was apparently stuck on (though after much arguing I realized Paul was not to blame as he hadn’t turned it on), and no matter how much reverse driving we did (seriously, the Land Rover manual TOLD us to), it wouldn’t come off. Here we were, in the middle of a dodgy town on the outskirts of Maputo, not a chance of a repairman, tow truck and certainly not a Land Rover dealer for miles – if not countries – and our car was essentially, according to the manual, undrive-able. I started seeing days and days spent in this dank, seedy port town – without a single hotel or restaurant - unfold in front of me waiting for some obscure part and spending thousands of dollars as the corrupt repair people held us hostage…

But, in a moment worthy of an iPhone commercial, I suddenly realized we had hope… thanks to Steven Jobs. Yes, I managed to procure my iPhone after removing it from bags deep within the mud-crusted bush vehicle, wedged in next to the ax and the spare coils. I brushed off the thick layer of dust and turned it on. IT WORKED! And what’s more, we found a 24 hour Land Rover help hotline to call. Here we were, literally in the middle of nowhere, a million miles away from any form of support, a few lights on generators the highest tech thing around us, on the phone with a cheery chap named Bill who helped us troubleshoot the car. His advice? Ignore it if the car still turns in a tight circle, which it did. And, then hope for the best. It is either a) nothing or b) a huge issue that will incapacitate the car possibly in an even more desolate location. Did I mention that Mozambique is infamous for its “gypsies” who are really land pirates looting unsuspecting tourists?

We gave ourselves the 30 minute ferry ride to Maputo to figure out our plan. Do we risk it or play it safe? It was now midnight and we were in a city that I imagine looks a lot like war-torn Beiruit complete with a self-mandated curfew (to ensure one’s safety) with few, if any, prospects. I was supposed to wake up in a hut on the beach ready for snorkeling with at least 10 whale sharks who were undoubtedly playing with 50 mantas, and now, instead, I had to chose whether I wanted to drive BACK to South Africa, camping out at the border until it was open, or just cross my fingers and hope for the best trying not to have a panic attack from all the stress of being absolutely certain the car was going to lose its drive train at the most inopportune time and place – like say, near a camp full of bandits. I mean, wasn’t this why I bought such a solid car? So this didn’t happen?!? And what about the drawers full of spare parts and tools? Why wouldn’t any of those help us now?

Though I dive with sharks on a regular basis, I am certainly not a risk taker. So Paul and I decided that we must turn around and head for the border so we could drive the 600 kms to the nearest Land Rover dealer to ensure our problem was not compounding. Crestfallen, we started heading out of the country only to have the light turn off, by itself, after going two hours in the opposite direction. Yes, that’s right. It was nothing.

Exhausted and defeated, we crashed in a nearby gas station, terrified to pull off the road due to the gypsies. I slept perched on top of the scuba gear in the back piling my wetsuits on top of me to avoid being bitten by malaria-carrying mosquitos, Paul in his seat holding a Machette in one hand and a huge two foot maglight in the other (the perfect weapon he says… you bash a guy with one end of it, then turn it around in one elegant swoop to see if he is lying on the ground.) When we awoke bleary-eyed for another full day of driving on roads even worse than what we had experienced, I figured nothing could phase me now. That was until the brand-new rear shock literally broke in half and we drove 30 km off-road through sand dunes with craters that could consume trucks in them – with only three zip ties holding the car together.


You gotta love Land Rovers. And the adventure that is Africa.

The REAL Mermaids

I am not sure why, but in the four years my parents have lived within a few hours of the infamous Manatee spot, Crystal River, I have never headed up to see them. Not that I don’t absolutely love manatees. In fact, I kayak throughout the mangroves near my parents house every time I am there hoping to get a glimpse of one. And while on the jetski, I am constantly peering into the water desperate to see that telltale grey body just under the surface.
Funny, whenever you have out of town visitors, you take the time to explore the place you live in – seemingly taking for granted all it has to offer until a visit from a guest requires a deeper look.

So, with Paul in Florida, I decided we had to see the Manatees.

We got up at the crack of dawn to temperatures my South African friend considered frigid and my mom who I convinced to come with us (ok, I needed a hat and gloves too, but…) and drove three hours into seemingly, the middle of nowhere. We finally arrived at a rather un-inspiring place, ready to rent our pontoon boat and see some “mermaids”. The pontoon boat was a luxury I am not often afforded – my own boat and a TON of room to spread out all the gear. Oh, and not to mention, perfectly CALM seas. This alone was heaven.


So, we loaded up and headed to the place on the map that the marina assured us Manatees would be. A few weeks later, the area would be off limits to boaters and swimmers, allowing us a unique opportunity to see the Manatees in their protected habitat.

We were worried that we would not see any Manatees – given that we were early in the cycle and the water was a bit murky. My decision to rent my own boat was also a bit questionable – as boat operators probably knew right where there were. When I told Paul about my plan, there were definitely a few eyebrows raised, but he knows when to challenge me. so there we were, Paul getting ready to tell me “I told you so”, freezing, and surrounded by muddy water.

We dropped the anchor and began lack-lusterly setting up, when I looked down on the anchor line to see a Manatee had swum up to greet us and rub herself on the anchor line. The Manatee was so playful and relaxed – and seemingly, just as curious of us as we were of her.

I couldn’t wait to get in the water, and the Manatee was beckoning me in by swimming under the ladder.

Finally it was time to get in. I began swimming towards the marshy shore, and it wasn’t long before I had my first visitors.

At first, they startled me, the large apparitions appearing out of no where, suddenly right next to me, with tiny eyes and a huge, huge body covered with long, sparsely spread hairs. I couldn’t believe how interactive they were. And how much some of them seemed to crave touch.


And how huge they are. They average 900 - 1200 lb and are 9-10 feet in length. I think they were as wide as they were long.

I have always refrained from interaction with an animal unless the animal seeks it out. And in this case, many of the manatees were tucking their noses up under my arms, brushing my legs as they swam next to me, and nudging my hands. Some of the manatees would come and check me out – others were looking for some quality time together. Each had its own very distinct personality. One was particularly smitten with Paul and everytime I turned around, she was holding on to his leg while he desperately tried to film me and carry around a one-ton Manatee on his thigh.


The West Indian manatee was discovered in the 1500s by Spanish explorers that hunted them for their meat, hide, and oils. Hunted almost to extinction, Florida banned the hunting of manatees in 1893. The official "season" for Florida Manatee is October 15th to March 31st. But there are Manatee that stay in certain areas all year.

Fossil remains of manatee ancestors show they have inhabited Florida for about 45 million years. The West Indian Manatee is one of four species of Manatees and Dugongs.

In warmer months manatees spend most of their time at sea and out of harm's way, but from October they 15th to March 31st, the colder weather drives them inland to places where can find warm water. Florida's Crystal River supports the largest concentration. Indeed, we saw over 25 different manatees – and at least 15 boats full of tourists looking to experience them.

Manatees are gentle, slow-moving graceful swimmers. Most of their time is spent eating, resting and in travel at depths of 3 – 7 feet. We happened upon many eating and also sleeping. And, they spend a lot of time eating, as they consume 10-15% of their body weight daily eating the sea grass below and other aquatic plants.

You probably won’t believe it, but the manatees closest relatives are elephants, aardvarks and hyraxes. You can see their large prehensile upper lip is a bit like a trunk – and they use it like an elephant would for gathering food and also social interactions & communications. One manatee kept taking my hand and placing it on its lips – trying to communicate in some way for sure.


We had a chance to see a baby as well, which was very exciting. You could tell the baby was quite curious, but mom didn’t want us near her. We kept our distance and respected mom’s wishes. The reproductive rate for the manatee is slow. Female manatees are not sexually mature till they are about four years old, and males, nine years old. One calf is born every 2-3 years and the gestation period is about 13 months. Manatees breed year round in Florida, however most of the calves are born in the spring and summer months. At birth the calf measures about 4 to 4.5ft and weighs about 60-70 pounds. They can even swim at the surface of the water by themselves!

Florida Manatees have been known to live up to 60 years, and they can move freely between fresh and salt water. You could see that some of them had much algae and growth on their skin and others did not. I wonder if that had to do with age, activity level or even the type of waters they lived in.

Manatees are also believed to have the ability to see in color, and though their eyes were quite small, I could see such intelligence in them. It was as if they could look into your soul.

And they are indeed very intelligent. Manatees are capable of understanding discrimination tasks, and show signs of complex associated learning and advanced long term memory. Similar to dolphins and seals.

The population of manatees in Florida is thought to be between 1,000 and 3,000, yet population estimates are very difficult.

Their slow-moving, curious nature, coupled with dense coastal development, has led to a number of violent collisions with boat propellers, leading frequently to maiming, disfigurement, and even death. As a result, a large portion of manatees have many propeller scars on their backs and they are now even recognized uniquely by their scar patterns.

Even the babies we saw all had propeller marks on them.

You can see the postings everywhere, warning boaters that manatee zones are no wake zones. Though, you frequently see boaters speeding through these zones. And Manatees don’t limit themselves to the zones. We happened upon one Manatee in a 35 mph zone swimming slowly and carelessly through it.

Until I saw the manatees, I didn’t realize I was looking for the wrong thing… A tell tale “hmpphff” sound and a glimpse at their large snout when they come up for a breath – that is what you look for. We stopped on the jetski in the MIDDLE of a busy boating lane and quickly

In 2007, a University of Florida study found that more than half of boat drivers in Volusia County, Florida sped through marked conservation zones despite their professed support for the endangered animals. The police boats are constantly on patrol looking for violaters.

There are other threats too…

Manatees occasionally ingest fishing gear (hooks, metal weights, etc.) while feeding which clog the animal's digestive system and slowly kill the animal.

Manatees are also vulnerable to red tides—blooms of algae which leach oxygen from the water.

And manatees are losing habitat. You can see how the areas they chose to inhabit make for prime real estate developments.

The manatee is protected under federal law by the Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972 and the Endangered Specials Act of 1973, which make it illegal to harass, hunt, capture or kill any marine mammal. The manatee is also protected by the Florida Manatee Sanctuary Act of 1978, which states: "It is unlawful for any person, at any time, intentionally or negligently, to annoy, molest, harass or disturb any manatee."


While we are allowed to swim with manatees in Crystal River, there is much controversy surrounding this. Manatees are the only endangered animal you can get in the water with – dolphins and whales are protected from us. There have been numerous charges of people harassing and disturbing the manatees in addition to the concern about repeated motorboat strikes causing the maiming, disfiguring, and death of manatees all across the Florida coast, and this privilege of swimming with wild manatees may be soon repealed.

In 2003, a population model was released by the U.S. Geological Survey predicted an extremely grave situation for manatees – if extreme measures were not taken to protect them, they would be extinct in less than 100 years.

So sad that a magnificent animal may not be around for our children’s children to enjoy. My day with the manatees was so magical, I could barely drag myself out of the water. If not for the requirement to return the boat by 4:30 pm, I would have been there all evening.


It is my hope that we work together so generations to come can enjoy these magnificent creatures. I know that from now on, whenever I am in Florida, I am heading out to see my new best friends. Oh, and Paul’s new (rather large) girlfriend.

DEMA!!!

It is that time of year again! Time to fill my Christmas list with dive destinations I can’t wait to visit and new gear sure to make a diving technophile excited! And most importantly, catch up with those folks that I rarely get to see – some only at Dema.

Dema is the industry’s largest diving trade-only exhibition. This year, I attended as a Shark Saver and for the Underwater Channel.

It was great to catch up with everyone – especially the Shark Angel Team… We were just short one Angel. Sadly Alison couldn’t make it – busy finishing her phD, making her wedding plans, kicking off two new research initiatives, and entertaining the plethora of media that flocks to her. Come on Alison, is that all????


It was so great to have the gang back together again, at least for a short while. Then everyone was off to their separate parts of the planet: Kim to launch Whale Wars and then hold down the fort while the Shepherds head to the Antarctic, Shawn to head Asia and film for Wild Aid, Eric to get ready to join the 2009 Sea Shepherd Whaling Campaign as the official photographer. What an incredible bunch of passionate people I am so fortunate to call my friends.


And a great way to spend time with fellow Shark Saver director, Jamie Pollack. Jamie and I spent hours planning our China campaign. And searching the floor for sponsors! (Well, mostly Jamie. She rocks at it.)

My must haves from the show? Oceanic’s new dive computer, the sexy, sleek silvery-blue material from Yamamoto for a new open-cell freediving suit (that would bring my total up to 9 new suits this year… 2 custom from Elios, 1 from Fourth Element, 1 from custom Free Divers,1 from Billabong, and 3 custom from Coral Wetsuits – yes, I do have a small shopping problem and my love for great shoes/handbags has now been replaced with a burning desire to purchase the perfect wetsuit), oh and a small ticket item… a Sony EX1 with a Gates Housing and Fathom lens. The perfect stocking stuffer.


As a presenter for the Underwater Channel, I had a chance to interview scads of folks – including the president of Padi, SSI, DAN, and Dema. But my personal favorite? That would have to be Neptunic SharkSuits. They are so tough and cool – I love their products and the company, which is equally edgy and hip. This year, I finally had an opportunity to meet Jeremiah Sullivan – the founder as well – which I must admit, I geeked out a bit on… You can see it all at: http://www.theunderwaterchannel.tv/blog/dema-special/

Sadly, I had to settle with another Neptunic t-shirt purchase though to add to my growing collection. I am just not ready to take on the price tag for the suit (they used to be $14k custom built, but now they have a much more affordable model on the market) on a conservationists’ salary. I know I don’t NEED it, but since when is a purchase driven by need? Not for any gal who has lived in Manhattan! But I can still dream… The ultimate suit to add to my collection.

Maybe next year…

Back in the US

After over four and a half months in Africa, it was finally time to go home for a quick visit to see loved ones, reconnect with the Shark Savers in NYC, go to Dema and film a few episodes for the Underwater Channel.

Funny, coming back to the US, I thought I was eager to get back but instead I instantly realized how out of place I feel. My life and work as a conservationist in South Africa has transformed me a bit, and for the first time, I think I realized how much my perceptions have shifted. I think I feel more at home in South Africa now – in a far less materialistic world that is so much closer to the realm within which I need to focus. What is important to me now is so different to what drove me in the past and being back I instantly felt awkward. The masses of people, the consumerism and the rat race (for what end goal?) alienated me completely. As soon as I arrived, I wanted to leave, get my hands dirty (or at least wet) and return back to being on the front lines of shark conservation…


But, what I thoroughly enjoyed (in addition to seeing my family and my puppy who I miss dearly) was bringing Paul to the US. Here is a kid who grew up in the bush – the tallest building he had ever seen was ten stories. America, to him, was the random television show or movie he had watched growing up. A-team, Nightrider and CSI cheesy violence combined with the best the eighties and Eddie Murphy had to offer: Trading Places, Beverly Hills Cop and Coming to America.

And, bam, I drop him into the middle of New York City, Chicago, Las Vegas and Orlando. Complete culture shock. He steps off the plane and I throw him on a subway bound for the financial district in Manhattan. His eyes were saucers the entire trip – and I am not sure he relaxed until we got to the sanctity and slow place that is Florida.


The things that he was desperate to experience were amusingly endearing as well as obscure. Halloween, hot dogs, Mexican food, the subway, anyplace that was used as a location for a scene in a TV show or a movie for the past 20 years, taxis, wireless Internet, vintage cars, soft serve ice cream, political commercials/election drama, raccoons, Captain Crunch… the list goes on and on. Things I have taken for granted most of my life.

(Paul's first hot dog.)

(Paul's first authentic Mexican food.)

I left with an appreciation for all I had growing up, the formulative experiences that made me who I am, and most importantly a renewed enthusiasm for the decision I made to become, what I suppose some might call and environmental vigilante. Or at least a crazy shark nut.

Something much, much scarier than sharks...

Paul (my favorite camera man from Lkwid Productions) and I headed out to do some filming for the national evening news here in South Africa and nearly lost our livelihoods! (Read the story then watch the footage...)

It all started innocently enough. Shark Angel Alison’s research is being featured in a national story on SABC and rather than head out with her, they wanted some footage of her in action. Since we have spent the last two weeks on the boat filming just that, the timing was perfect and Paul provided some great footage.

However, they were quite keen on getting some underwater footage, and Paul was quite keen on using his pole cam. He has been dying for someone to mutter the words... "I just wish we had some underwater footage of the white sharks..."

So, without much fore-thought or pre-planning on the logistics of using a heavy camera on a pole, in rough seas, with White Sharks, out we headed to Seal Island to try our luck… It wasn’t long before a real player showed up, and Paul eagerly plunged the camera in the water. Our goal was to capture the shark underwater maybe even WITH the National Geographic Crittercam on.


This beautiful shark made several passes eyeing what we thought was the bait… My job was to let Paul know where the shark was, so that he could slowly pan towards her (in addition to my full time post as Head Chummer and First Mate). Each time, she came closer and closer into the camera, and Paul was beaming, just dreaming of the type of footage he was probably capturing. (With no screen, it is difficult to know exactly what is happening, and as Murphy’s Law often has it, you always think you are getting better footage than you are, but this seemed like it was definitely the million dollar shot.)

Then before you could blink your eye, this four meter lady swam past the bait and launched towards the camera putting on her full attack speed… All we saw from our vantage point was a wide open mouth and teeth – and even more desperate, a terrified look in Paul’s eyes as he managed to pull the 50 pound camera out of the water attached to a slippery, straight swimming pool cleaner pole like it was a feather. I have never seen such super human strength, but he was centimeters away from losing his beautiful and quite costly lens… The shark didn’t stop there. Frustrated, she thrashed and managed to soak Paul at the same time. So Paul was dripping wet with freezing water and wide eyed just having been scared to death by the thought of the tens of thousands of dollars he might have just lost.

After Morne, Alison and I all had a good laugh (yes, at Paul’s expense just a bit) and checking the housing for scratches, we then heard from Morne that he has lost countless lenses doing just that… And even had to dive in for one camera! In our enthusiasm, Paul and I had just forgotten one thing: to ask if the shark ever goes for the camera instead of the bait.

It is definitely worth the risk though… we are both totally addicted to the pole cam. Had the visibility been better, the footage would have been simply amazing. We are already desperate to get another chance to peek in on the White Sharks. This time though, we are strapping the camera to Paul!

Watch the drama unfold... Note, Paul has a wide angle lens, so things are MUCH, MUCH closer than they appear!

Making Friends in Sodwana

Paul just sent me a highlights reel from our trip to Sodwana filming for the Underwater Channel (which coincidentally launched today). It features me basically getting mauled by quite a few different creatures on my search to find a whale shark.... Not only is it quite amusing, it is a proud moment for my parents. Dad, my certifying instructor who taught me to be such a responsible diver, gets to watch me literally run out of air and Mom, my staunch conservationist mother who taught me to respect animals, can be horrified to see me feeding the wild life. (We have HEATED family debates regarding baiting and chumming over dinners, you can be certain.)

A Dream Fulfilled

While on the Sardine Run, my new friend Paul Wildman and I hatched a plan to go to Sodwana, and since he was a camera man and I had a monthly piece due for the Underwater Channel, shoot my first segment in Sodwana. As a “face” of the newly launching broadband channel, once a month, I am responsible for delivering a captivating dive story.

But, I did not decide to go for the gorgeous lettuce coral, the amazing potato bass or the incredible macro life. No, I went for a chance of a lifetime for this shark girl. For the ability to do something that I have not been able to do in over 12 years of diving. I wanted to see a whale shark.

And it isn’t that easy… In Jacques Cousteau’s entire lifetime, he saw just two.

So, when Paul told me that a three whale sharks had been sighted during the past week only four hours away from where I was, I was desperate to take a chance, get into the water and try my luck once again. I know it is a long shot, but I had to try. I have been trying ever since I started diving to see the world’s largest and most magnificent fish…

The rest of our group on the Sards trip was extremely amused at the thought of Paul and I together in Sodwana, as unbeknownst to me, Paul’s existing plans were certainly not the type I had grown accustomed to, nor would even consider to be anything other than, well, punishment. Paul and I, were in fact, exact opposites when it came to our experiences and thus, resulting expectations of what is required for “enjoyable” travel experiences.

You see, Paul is a “bush kid”. He is one of those crazy South Africans who grew up literally eating bugs, making weapons out of things like string and sticks, and sleeping for days on end on the ground in the middle of a seething pit of snakes and bugs. When he was 12, his parents left him in the middle of the bush, miles away from anything and he not only had to fend for himself, he had to find his way home. (Personally, I think his parents may have just been trying to lose him.)

I grew up, well, surrounded by wildlife that consisted of squirrels and deer. Though I absolutely love the outdoors, I typically like to leave it behind after several hours in exchange for a hot shower and clean, cozy 400 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Thus, I would certainly never think of pooping in the woods as being an enjoyable experience – let alone sleeping in them. I camped quite a bit as a girl scout, but after about fourteen, I decided that I required a few minimal things: a door on my toilet (that of course flushes), hot water from a tap, lights with switches, a bug-free sleeping environment and a food supply that is free of infestation as well. As you get to know me, you realize quite quickly that this tough shark chick has a dreadful fear of two things: spiders and well, actually, most any other bug that isn’t cute (which pretty much means everything but praying mantis and butterflies.)

Paul’s version of Sodwana was staying at a “bush camp” for a week, which I found out only after already agreeing to the trip. I had been on safari in Tanzania… bush camps are really only a cute way of referring to little cottages in the woods. Right? Not so…

The bush camp was a series of shanties actually, with a communal “kitchen” which consisted of a burner and a few dirty wooden tables, one blunt knife and a few nasty pots. The bathroom, communal as well, was situated in a manner that allowed EVERYONE in the camp to hear your “business” and there was a single, sad light that illuminated the entire bath area and the entire kitchen. The huts were thatch with aluminum roofs – with dead bugs in the “window” sills and a hard, dirty cement floor. Each hut had two manky beds (if you can call a wooden slab with a piece of foam on it raised by bricks a bed) with linens I am not sure had been washed in weeks. The worst part about it was it was clear there was NO bug protection and anything that wanted to enter could easily crawl, slither, slink, fly, or buzz into my vicinity to embed itself painful into my skin at any time day or night.

My eyes were huge when I saw my “home” for six days. Paul’s were when he saw my three suitcases with things like suede boots, leather jackets and cashmere sweaters in them. (To be fair, I had NO IDEA when I came to Africa, I would be camping. I certainly would have packed a bit better otherwise.) Sadly, the nights were frigid, and I spent the first night freezing – and terrified of being attacked by some creepy crawly that would invariably give me some horrible, incurable disease which would result in the loss of at least two limbs.

But, we were there for the diving and the whale sharks, and what amazing diving it was. I quickly forgot about my accommodations when we arrived the first morning.

About 60 km south of Mozambique. Sodwana is famous for the Raggies (we call them Sand Tigers in the states), which come here during their gestation period by the hundreds in the summer. And, for its beautiful, pristine reefs that are alive with life.

Sodwana is like an undiscovered treasure – what diving probably was in places like Bonaire 40 years ago. Pristine beaches as far as the eye can see, and truly adventures South African diving from pangas and the beach. The reefs were gorgeous – and the biodiversity rivaled Indonesia. Beautiful corals, huge mantis shrimp, colorful nudibranchs, huge schools of fish… I could go on and on. Heaven.

With no whale sharks to be seen, we quickly decided to “amp” up our dives, and of course get more amazing footage, by bringing sardines on our dives with us - scratch that. By Julie bringing two tubs of sardines completely unprotected from the vicious vampire bass who followed her around like moths to a flame... moths with two inch long teeth. Bad idea for certain, but led to countless funny stories – most of which were caused by Paul’s bad advice. First, we found rays which Paul encouraged me to hand fed, only to find they were electric rays that shocked me with a piercing current. Then, we were discovered by a friendly Honeycomb Eel who began to search for us each dive we did. Paul tried to convince me to let the eel slither and rub itself affectionately on my mask, the way it was trying to do to him. I refused, so Paul showed me how it was done, only to be bitten square on the nose by the eel he told me wasn’t dangerous.

Ah, then there was Mr. Mog. Mr Mog was a Potato Bass whose mouth was as big as my head. The first time we saw Mr. Mog, I discovered him when Paul told me to swim through a sea of glass fish. I looked down and saw one HUGE eyeball looking back at me and refused to swim thru the cavern. Mr. Mog quickly discovered we had food for him, and then, he became like the golden retriever I had when I was growing up. He would beg for food, try and obtain it himself, coax us into giving it to him, then pretend to give up and dole out affection in the hopes of winning us over. However, as the days progressed, Mr. Mog became more and more territorial with the tub of sardines he brought, at one point, chasing me almost to the surface. Paul, in another moment of brilliance told me to bark at Mr. Mog. Once again, I refused, and when Paul did it, Mr. Mog became violent – swallowing Paul’s lense completely prior to an all out attack on him.

The fish followed us like we were pied pipers – and despite the drama, the experience was charged with adventure. At one point, I eagerly rushed to who I thought was my friendly eel, only to find its evil twin brother - an eel who had not eaten in days and began attacking me. Barely able to fight off its attack with my long fins, I thought the eel was going to follow me onto the boat! Paul was torn between getting the attack on tape and actually getting involved, but eventually, his good nature prevailed and he “rescued” me, only to become the eel’s prey!

We spent hours in the crystal blue waters discovering all that Sodwana had to offer, playing with our new friends, and exploring the reefs. And, scanning the blue for a glimpse at a whale shark.

That was under the water. Topside was a different story. After six days of living in complete terror of having some sort of bug on me, I was literally on the edge. Every night, at least five times a night, I would wake up hearing some sort of scurrying, forcing Paul to get up out of his bed and investigate the sound's origin. The panic grew, as I began reacting to anything that brushed my leg during the day, squealing like a pig, running around like I was on fire, and as Paul would say "getting totally girlie"...

It all came to a head one of the last days… I was exhausted after a long day of filming, and I collapsed at nine pm. At about eleven, I opened my eyes and to my horror, there was a wasp the size of a hummingbird right in front of my face. Half asleep, I tried to scramble out of bed, which was incredibly difficult because my legs were in a sleeping bag. So, as I leapt up screaming bloody murder, my legs were entangled, and it quickly turned into a face forward dive onto the concrete floor, about one and a half meters below (the beds were high probably intentionally high to keep all the creepy crawlies out.) Halfway to the floor I woke up, realizing I was caught in a nightmare but now, was somehow headed for disaster. Unfortunately, my face broke my fall although I also managed to crack the side of my head on the side of my bed on the way down. When I hit, my head and neck snapped backwards and I could hear myself groaning as the wave of nausea and then searing pain washed over me. Paul, meanwhile shot straight out of his bed yelling "Holy Shit, holy shit what is going on???" He looks down at me in a crumpled heap and then to my bed, where he told me he was convinced he would find a black mamba. He's screaming about the snake and stomping on my bed, I am screaming about the wasp and writhing on the floor, and then, he starts screaming at me when he realizes not only did I imagine the whole thing and practically broke my neck in an unnecessary manifested panic, but also that I had put him thru such torment and interrupted his sleep for the 937 time in the last week. I told him that if I lived through the night, this would be very funny in the morning. It wasn't when I looked like the victim of domestic abuse and had a splitting headache for three days.

On one of our last dives, I had forgotten my computer, so had no indication of air supply (naughty I know.) When Paul discovered we were nearly out, we decided to head to our safety stop having given up on the notion of sighting a whale shark. Then, in the distance, I saw the flash of what I thought were Jacks only to find a whale shark off in the distance waiting for me to discover it. I couldn’t believe it!!! As I raced towards it though, I couldn’t determine if I was just breathing heavily or running out of air. Turns out it was the latter, and as I reached the shark, I was literally completely out. However, I did have the composure to NOT visibly run out of air on camera as I was after all supposed to be a diving expert, giving Paul an unconventional “holy shit I need air” sign (translates into me wildly pointing at my reg with two index fingers) – which of course he didn’t understand. We lost the whale shark as I violently wrenched his regulator (where the heck was your octopus for your buddy Paul?!?) from his mouth much to his surprise.

But we both shared in a life-changing first… Our first whale shark. I finally discovered the magnificence and beauty of this graceful, spotted giant firsthand and at the same time, couldn’t help but recall painfully how much people pay for their hacked off tails and fins. It brought a tear to my eye when I thought about how many of these gorgeous creatures are slaughtered each year.

On a much more encouraging note, I also discovered Paul, who will definitely be a cherished friend for life. He was just the right mix of patience and “just quit your bitching, being a girl and do it”. A kind, caring soul with a rough "bush" exterior. And, the experiences we had as well as the time we spent together has definitely bonded us. I cannot wait for our next adventure. I just hope it includes more sharks and less camping.

Sardines!

The primary reason I initially decided to come back to Africa – though it has clearly been pulling me back for months – has finally arrived! It is SARDINE RUN time! Once a year, the Sardines move down the coast of South Africa as the water temperatures change, and with them comes an amazing display of predators and action. Diving gannets, humpback and bride whales, dolphins by the thousands, sharks by the hundreds and of course shoals and shoals of glistening sardines.

The past few years, the sardines haven’t "run", and the diving has been lackluster at best. But this year, early reports indicate the sardines will be plentiful and the run promises to be an incredible display.

Unfortunately, as it always seems to happen when I am in South Africa, I managed to plan a trip during a time in which they have a weather first. A few months ago when diving with the white sharks, it was winds and swells like they had never seen before. This time around, it was a flash flood. As luck would have it, the day we were set to arrive in Durban, they received an unpredicted downpour that resulted in rivers overflowing and destroying bridges and consuming highways, houses sliding down hills into the oceans, and even a plane sliding off the runway.

Now, I am a relatively tough chick and am happy (or at least begrudging at best) to dive in the rain. But what this did was far worse then a bit of inconvenience on the boat for our first few days on the run. It turned the water into a murky, mixed up chocolate syrup with no visibility and the massive amount of debris in the water combined with the destruction closed launch sites for days. But as always, we made the most of it.

Jamie and I were diving with my dear friends, Mark and Gail Addison, who run Blue Wilderness. Mark and Gail are incredibly passionate and committed to conservation, and protecting all things cherished about this planet. They are some of the most kind, generous people I have ever met, and the most knowledgeable operators - I mean, they started Sardine Run.

And, much to our delight, Jamie and I were also with a wonderful group of people. First, there was Pam, our skipper and the sweetest person you could ever hope to meet. What’s more, this was a rugged and brilliant chick, who ran her own dive tour operation while getting her Marine Biology degree. She is the type of person I wished I had grown up to become! Then, there was Mark and Sophia – a delightful couple whose passion for each other was just as strong as their passion for adventure. She had been a news photographer for years, frequently finding herself in the middle of riots and shootings. Mark is a surfer that makes boards and a professional photographer in his own right. The two of them were so funny and such a joy to be around, I just simply couldn’t get enough of them. And as luck would have it, they are best friends with my new housemate Renier, so I am going to have a chance to spend much time with them in my days to come in Capetown. They are the type of couple that gives me hope - and the type that everyone just wants to be around.

Then, there was Paul, who ran a production company in Malaysia and was soon to become my first shooter for my gig with the Underwater channel. Paul and I instantly gravitated towards one another, I suppose because we both were in similar sibling situations growing up. Paul took care of both Jamie and I, while at the same time, tormented me with all sorts of brotherly antics – which of course I loved. Finally, there was Mike, a freediver and another cinematographer/production company owner from South Africa, who was there doing a piece for Japanese television. Mike is one of those guys you used to invent when you were an 11 year old girl dreaming of the boyfriend you would invariably have when you were 20 and of course also famous and rich beyond your wildest dreams at that point... handsome, tall, athletic, funny, smart, successful, and kind. But, more importantly, (and really all that mattered to me...) Mike and I were cut out of the same cloth; we even both run Shark Conservation organizations. So, of course I couldn’t get enough of him, spending hours talking about sharks… (and yes just a few other things as well!)

The first few days, we were not able to launch, so we explored an aquarium, went horseback riding on the beach (I am the typical chick who grew up LOVING horses), discovered Port Edward and had a ball getting to know each other. Then, finally, it came time to do what we were there for – find some Sardine action!
The Sardine Run is like no other dive adventure I have been on. You literally spend hours looking for action, suited up in your wet suit on a small panga zooming around the ocean with a microlite above cluing you in on the action. It was brief and few and far in between, but when you got action, it made it all worthwhile. One day, we spent the day dropping in and freediving with pods of common nose and spinner dolphins who numbered in the thousands. It was such an amazing site to hang at fifteen feet and have dolphins whiz by you as far as the eye could see, like walking through Grand Central Station during rush hour… Another day we found the Humpbacks and I had a magical experience when two headed straight for me and I got up close and personal with some of the most majestic creatures on the planet. I was so close, I was pulled into the current they created with their enormous, barnacled bodies that glided effortlessly by.


The diving gannets were a sight to see. Beautiful above water, they turned into monstrous looking things as they pierced the surface and dove down twenty feet for a sardine. One took a liking to Jamie’s wetsuit and began incessantly attacking her arm. I nearly drowned laughing so hard.

Finally, Mother Nature delivered our bait ball. A swarming mass of sardines, encircled by dozens of bronze whaler and black tip sharks that were darting in and out of the school, flanked by dolphins whose piercing calls I could hear through my hood. Everywhere I turned there was action – even gannets diving in from above. It was hectic – and even a bit disconcerting when I found myself in the middle of it all. Sharks with their open mouths brushing my legs and zooming past my mask – spending much of their time hidden closely next to me in my blind spot. I remembered my friend Shawn’s words of caution but rather than moving away from the action, in typical Julie style, I was drawn to the middle of it! It was quite singularly one of the most incredible things I have ever experienced. I am desperate to return. And to see all my new friends again, who on this trip, all turned into family.

(Thanks to Pam, Jamie and Sophia for the great pictures...)

More photos of the African adventure.