It had the look and feel of the quintessential beach thriller blockbuster.
The sharks swirled a mere oar’s distance from our goggle-clad faces in the crystal blue waters off the Exumas, excited by the fish entrails flung out by our tour guide, an ebony-skinned Bahamian diver. Then, as if on cue, a handful of stingrays appeared, moving lithely between half-a-dozen sharks. The whole situation, coupled with our guide’s devil-may-care attitude, put the perfect finishing touch to our disaster scene.
“Now listen up!” boomed the diver in a thick Caribbean accent. “Stay as close together as you can and leave no gaps between your bodies, or the stingrays will swim behind you. Second, if you see any sharks coming towards you, run! Don’t just lie there because you will get bitten!” The emphasis he put on these last few words should have sent me back to the alternative dangers of sunburn and sweet cocktails at the adjoining beach cabana, but it didn’t. Not only was I intrigued, but I was under the debilitating spell of cold and unmitigated fear.
An American tourist put her hand up nervously. “What if they get behind us?” she asked.
“If the stingray gets behind you, don’t panic!” the diver bellowed. “If you fall on top of the stingray, it will attack you with a poisonous barb. If it strikes you, there is little we can do to help you out here.” As I tried my hardest not to think of a certain Australian naturalist, a handful of our thrill-seeking group moved towards the beach cabana. The two dozen or so of us that remained clung together and prayed for the best.
“Now, if you are absolutely sure you are ready to do this, lie flat on the ground, put your heads in the water and prepare to be amazed.”
The next 20 minutes were some of the most breathtaking I’ve ever experienced underwater. Stingrays sailed past us, completely unfazed by our presence. Their billowy black exteriors rippled along the water surface, their underbellies caressed our outstretched hands. In the background, a host of sharks thrashed back and forth, competing for the fish dangling at the end of the diver’s rope, allowing themselves to be dragged closer to shore. One compliant specimen came up near the sand, writhing in the shallows, giving us a chance to see the shark’s powerful jaws snap at the bait before it retreated to deeper reaches. Fifteen minutes later, the spectacle was over, and only a fish head remained at the end of the diver’s rope.