When dive tourism started to blossom in PNG in the late 1980’s it was decided to form an association for dive operators with the aim of setting standards, ensuring that the marine resource was conserved, and promoting PNG as a world class diving destination in a united manner.
The first name suggested was the “Dive Operators Association of PNG”, however I noticed, just in time, that this would create the acronym DOA PNG, and since DOA was already widely used for “Dead On Arrival” this would be unfortunate, to say the least. So the association became the “Papua New Guinea Divers Association”. One of the first tasks was to draw up an Environmental Code of Ethics that all Dive Operators would follow. I had a hand in this along with Max Benjamin of Walindi Plantation and Dick Knight of Loloata Island, who both operate renowned Dive Resorts. Here it is:- PNG Divers Association Environmental Code of Ethics. At a time when coral reefs worldwide are under threat, the PNGDA recognises the exceptional quality and condition of Papua New Guinea’s natural marine resources and their importance for both village life and the Nation, and pledges that the Association will do everything in its power to ensure these resources, including the sea bed, reefs, wrecks and the marine life that lives on them, and in the waters surrounding them, will be conserved. Members of the Papua New Guinea Divers Association will:
This code of ethics has been useful in negotiating with the Government fisheries organization to the extent that certain commercial fisheries, for example the live edible reef fish fishery, have management plans that forbid fishing at or near established dive sites. It has also enabled protocols to be established with villagers so that divers are welcome to dive local reefs for a reasonable fee and can expect villagers to care for the reefs. When I first started diving remote places in PNG villagers always thought we were hunting and taking “their” fish. They thought this unfair, as they did not have the means that we did –scuba gear – to catch fish. Normally hospitable and welcoming, some villagers wanted to ban us from their area, and fair enough. I had to spend many hours explaining that we dived just to see the reefs and the fish, and perhaps take photographs, but did not remove anything from their reefs. The whole concept of tourism was alien. Villagers never went sightseeing. Their journeys always had purposes such as trading, finding wives, or, in the old days, raiding and pillaging! I always believed that it was important that the villagers saw some benefit from our tourist activities. I encouraged them to trade fruit and vegetables, carvings and other artefacts, and we paid a reef fee to the community to put value on the resource. I have made many friends – indeed when I revisited an island dive site recently the villagers told me I was the “most wanted man in this area.” The “V” signal idea came form Mike Ball who used it in Australia. I’ve never been very keen on the concept as it encourages those that have insufferable “I’m so virtuous” complexes, to bully other divers. As H.L. Mencken so rightly says “The urge to save humanity is almost always a false front for an urge to rule it.” In this case their notion of saving the reef hides a false front for desire to police it. There are so many myths about coral reefs. For a start they are not monuments. They are dynamic and alive and, as do all living creatures, go through cycles of growth and abundance through decline and death – and rebirth and rejuvenation. These cycles are much shorter than commonly imagined. The reef has been “devastated” (the most popular word in the dictionary at the moment) by a boat’s anchor, and “will take thousands of years to recover”. The “thousands of years” bit is a cliché, and is nonsense. I read this in an editorial in the Cairns Post when a virtuous reader sent in a picture of some Staghorn coral that he witnessed damaged by a boat anchor. Of course the damage is regrettable, but Staghorn coral grows rapidly and the damage no more significant than that caused by pruning a tree. I have seen reefs infested by Crown of Thorns Sea Stars made completely barren – but with significant regrowth after two years, abundant growth after 5 years and mature growth after ten years. My estimate for coral reef life span for Acropora corals is about 25 years. After that time some of the corals get so large they break from their own weight. Other coral species my have longer life spans – but if you have seen the sort of damage that a school of Bump Headed parrotfish can do to a massive coral it is obvious that the corals have great powers of rapid repair. A brain coral that a diver has vandalised with graffiti was perfect when I found it again one year later. If you dive the same places over many years, as I have done, you see how it all works. I’ve been diving Milne Bay PNG for 38 years now and I’ve witnessed bleaching, Crown of Thorn outbreaks, Drupella infestations, coral diseases and storm, dynamite and ship damage, with great variations in seasonal and annual temperatures. The various reefs ALL recovered. What actually takes thousands of years to form are the underlying reef structures. These are of course dead corals. The live corals are the shallow “skin” of the reef creating more structure as they grow – and die. For a while Corals were given sacred status and the catch phrase of the self-anointed reef police was “Touch me and I die”. What nonsense. The very same people, no doubt, who just love to hug trees and Koalas, have abused me for touching marine life. I have to tell you that many marine creatures LIKE being caressed – how do I know? Because they come back for more! None like being harassed I guess, and me too, so the anointed should remember that – if they wish to avoid their air being turned off at depth. Halstead’s Uncertainty Principle states that when we enter the sea we change what we go to see. It is inevitable. The art of good diving minimises these changes. Try to be in harmony with the ocean. No need to be obsessive or fanatical, save that for the irresponsible commercial fisheries such as the long-liners, live edible reef fish industry and Giant clam poachers. Try not to damage or molest the life coral reefs contain, but recognise that our humble presence as ETHICAL divers, is benign. For contact with the PNGDA inc. please email the Executive Officer, Vilia Lawrence at [email protected] I recently got asked to write 500 words in favour of the following proposition: –
“Should experience allow you to dive beyond your certification level?” Since I believe that experience plays a vital role in diver safety, and because I have learned over the years (through experience) that some diver certifications are not worth the plastic they are stamped on, I was happy to participate in this worthy discussion. Here is what I wrote – but there is, as you shall read, more to the story. In the early 1990s it became illegal for me to dive on the Great Barrier Reef. Queensland Health and Safety declared me to be a “Commercial Diver” because I was an underwater photographer, and sold some of my photos. They then declared it was illegal for me (and even Ron and Valerie Taylor) to dive, as I did not have a “Commercial Diving” certification. My past experience did not count with Queensland bureaucrats. I had been certified as a Diving Instructor in 1970, and was working full time in the sport diving business running the live-aboard dive boat Telita – fortunately in PNG, not Australia. If I had tried to work in Australia I would have had to give up underwater photography or possibly pay a $60,000 fine or spend 6 months in jail. Or fork out $5000 or so to get a “Commercial Diver” qualification. After seven years the legislation was repealed, but a lot of damage was done and elements of the “save my backside” culture that the rules created, still exist. I thought that I had dived responsibly and safely and the Queensland Government should have asked me for advice rather than imposing ludicrous conditions on my diving. So I developed a profound contempt for those who proclaim immutable rules. I believe it is better to think of all rules in terms of guidance, not obedience. If you have just been certified and taught to dive to 18m (60 ft) then it would perhaps be foolish to make your next dive to 40 m (130 ft.) – but is the only way to dive to 40 m (130 ft.) to pay more money, do more courses and get more certifications? Well, no, it is just one way. Other ways include being mentored in a dive club, or going on an adventurous live-aboard dive boat. But here is a thought for you – why is it that you have only been taught to dive to 18m (60ft.)? When I ran Telita I encouraged guests to have at least 50 dives before they booked. This was to ensure they were at ease in the water and familiar with their equipment. We then introduced divers to all sorts of diving hazards, and showed them how, by learning skills, studying stuff, having the right equipment, and making realistic self – appraisals, they could safely experience increased risk, and expand their diving portfolio. We applied this to specific dives but actually the divers were learning a METHOD that enabled them to make current dives, deep dives, dives with sharks, low visibility dives, blue water dives, all within their own comfort zones. For extreme dives such as those involved in Cave or Technical diving, taking a course might be the most efficient way of learning. But this was real life diving; we did not hand out certifications. You gain diving experience not by doing the same thing over and over again, but by considering the dive situation, assessing the risks and knowing you have the skills, knowledge and equipment to overcome the risks. You make the dive, hopefully, but not impossibly, without incident – then, importantly, think about how you could improve. You inevitably develop a “Sea Sense” that no classroom can teach. And this you can then apply to your next diving situation. Only reckless and stupid people make a dive to see if they will survive. Certified or not, ultimately diver safety depends on attitude and self-knowledge, and you gain that through experience. So that is pretty much what I wrote; however the editor (guess which country!) had to put it past his legal department and they advised not to publish. It did not take me long to realise that the whole concept of a Diver Certification had changed. It used to be that you took a dive course, passed the various stages, and the certification was a reward for your efforts and recognition that you understood the basics of safe diving. The certification was for YOUR benefit. You only needed one certification, and that became a license to learn more about diving. There was no certification soup, and no arbitrary limits requiring another, more advanced, certification. The basic certification was sufficient; dive shops would fill your tank, and let you join their dive trips. It seems today that every different dive you do requires you to spend money, do another course and get another certification. These courses are no longer fun ways to learn, they are mandatory. Want to do a deep dive? Then you have to do a deep diving course first and get certified. A dive may be limited to “Advanced Divers Only”, where an Advanced Diver is evidently someone who has done 10 dives and has an Advanced Certificate. That’s Humbug. And Governments are all too happy to go along. We now have special certification courses in Queensland for those wishing to participate in Scientific Research, If you are not certified, forget it. More Humbug. One imagines that the certifying agencies strive to find not only the most effective ways of teaching diving, but also keep in touch with the way the sport has evolved away from the Navy diving characteristics that sport diving started with, to standards that reflect how thoughtful experienced sport divers actually dive today. But what has actually happened is that some training agencies have committed to immutable rules of diving and the certification card is their way of demonstrating that they have covered these rules in their courses. If they change something then it can only be in one direction – to create more courses and more rules, not throw any out. They are interested in themselves, and covering their backsides. Could it be that the reasons divers are initially certified to only 18m (60 ft.) is to make them sign up for another course, or, if they go deeper, to transfer liability? The certification card no longer represents the frontier of diving education; it represents instead a stodgy, fearful adherence to conformity and the past. It is actually a history lesson. I know this because we have discovered, through experience, that some of the things that are still taught are actually wrong (for example the procedure for a lost buddy, and the whole concept of No – Decompression diving) but there is resistance to any change. The graduates of these agencies usually have a steep learning curve when they go out into the real world and do, say, adventure diving in PNG or Komodo, with really experienced divers. They are not well prepared, no matter how high their certification. I know that is a bit provocative, but I think it is time to call the dive certification agencies to account. They have provided a convenient, if expensive and pedantic, way of increasing diver experience, but making multiple courses mandatory is outrageous. Perhaps they feel they have to do this because too many stupid people were being reckless, getting hurt and then blaming the instructor and agency, and probably the Government (Alas what happened to personal responsibility?). But remember, please, I was around near the very beginning of diver training. What started as a responsible effort to ensure potential divers had the basic, essential knowledge and skills necessary to safely use scuba underwater, has now produced a type of extreme fundamentalism – where it is not even permissible to publish a contrary view that experience could count for more than certification. That is a bit too precious for me. Diving Dunce has been trying to upset me again. “Don’t take this personally” he says, so I know it is really personal, “but this diving is not good”.
We just had some very bad unseasonable weather and I had not been able to take Telita to our first choice of sites. I am fundamentally unhappy about my lack of ability when it comes to controlling the weather, visibility and tides but, unlike others, I have read of King Canute, who brought his throne to the beach and ordered the tide not to come in. I would like to be able to tell you that he was swamped, the silly arrogant fool that he was, but he probably just got his feet wet. Whatever, I learned the lesson. Hey Guys, Weather is Out of My Control! Dunce keeps raving on about the last place he dived off some fantastic island – where every dive is perfect. Always clear, calm water with stupendous corals and lots of big animals. I must book there myself. Actually the dive was fine, a sheltered (out of the bad weather!) muck dive with plenty of exotic critters – ghost pipefish, frogfish, mantis shrimp – OK, I admit none of them were more than a meter long which would have been the smallest size for Dunce to notice. It amazes me that there are still divers out there that are distraught if they do not see sharks and barracuda on every dive. Today’s sophisticated divers generally want much more, such as wonderful weird critters. I would not run a dive cruise without searching for weird critters on at least some of the dives. Sharks are great, but getting harder to find world wide mainly because of shark finning. One thing I have noticed (let me know if you have too) but there seem to be far more turtles around these days. I guess with fewer sharks, more turtles survive. Telita Dive has a large inventory of good dive sites that can be used when the weather is not doing its bit, and an even larger inventory of excellent openwater reefs for fine weather, and we have wrecks. What people always remark on is the variety of sites we offer on any one cruise. Bad weather never lasts long. I decide to set our nautilus trap to capture and release these fascinating creatures from the deep ocean. Usually, and especially if guests have not seen nautius before, diving with them is an awesome experience. I thought Dunce would go rapturous and forget all other dive sites. On previous cruises, after the nautilus dive, guests have been known to take me aside, grasp my hand, and tell me what a deeply moving experience it was. Swimming with an animal half a billion years old … and that was just with me, before they even saw the nautilus. Anyway, when it comes time for him to collect one of the 14 nautilus we have caught to take on the dive he says “Well, I don’t like to be uncooperative,” so I know he has no intention of cooperating, “but no thanks, I’ll just watch the others”. “Dear Sir” says I, “We need you to help return the Nautilus back to their abyssal homes” (sotto voce “All the way to 250 meters preferably”). He must have read my mind since later, after an exploratory dive he reports that the new reef is dead and covered with algae and how sorry he is for the local people for this to be happening to them. “Don’t get upset” Dunce says, so I know he wants me to get upset, “I know you are trying to take us to good sites, it is just so sad.” I think evil thoughts – it will be sad for you when I turn off your air at 40 m, Ha Ha Ha! Then, justice! The next diver comes out of the water raving about all the beautiful live corals and caverns and says how she would have loved to spend another couple of hours on the dive….. her buddy surfaces and I check with him. “Dunce had a bad dive” I informed him. “No such thing as a bad dive! Only bad divers!” Now the ball is rolling “Even the worst dive is better than a day in the office”. I love these two. I decide to check the dive out myself. There is some algae but what is more obvious is that, along with a multitude of healthy adult corals, there are hundreds of young corals regenerating on the reef. This reef is not sick, it is in a process of rejuvination. The dive is a joyful experience. “I really don’t want to tell you this” Dunce says, so I know he just cannot wait, “But that infected foot of yours looks very bad”. “Ah but Sir” Quoth I, “I know just where to kick it for an instant cure” …. If you gamble on the Slot (Poker) machines or Roulette wheel regularly and often, then mathematics tells us you will inevitably loose. You may hit the occasional Jackpot, but your long-term losses will more than rob you of any profit. The profit goes to the owner of the Slot machine or Roulette wheel since payouts are regulated to be less than what the machine takes. Some slot machines have their software regulated so that the payout may be as little as 75% of the input! Roulette can be a bit better with typically a 95% return but, with either game, you may not understand that if you play enough, your losses are guaranteed.
Most other casino games are similar and – unless you can inject a bit of skill into the equation for example by being an expert blackjack or poker player – casino gambling is a mug’s game to be done for short term fun, and not profit. The odds are against you, and the more you partake, the more you loose. Professional gamblers actually do not gamble very much. They do not play slot machines or roulette, and they hedge their bets and set the odds so, whatever the outcome, they will make a percentage. Diving philosophy is totally the opposite. If you want to have a rich personal dive history full of treasured experiences of all the legendary creatures, reefs and wrecks underwater, then the winning formula is to dive as regularly and often as possible. I remember one diver client complaining that he was unlucky. He complained that every time he came on one of our Sunday dive trips in Port Moresby we had been to the same inshore site, and he never had a chance to see Nessie our tame moray eel, and Gobbler the grouper, and sharks, and wrecks that were on the outer barrier reef. It turned out that he only came diving twice that year and had picked two days where strong South-East trade winds were blowing, and thus our choice of possible dive sites limited, and the outer reef impossible. I introduced him to one of our regular divers and asked the regular to recite the wonderful diving experiences that he had over the past year. This diver was a good friend of Gobbler and Nessie, had dived the wrecks and seen a whale shark, a hammerhead, and manta rays. He had made some exploratory dives to new sites, and discovered a new species of nudibranch. What was the difference? Well the “lucky” diver went diving every weekend and in the course of the year logged some fantastic diving experiences. So when people ask me how to get all the great underwater encounters, I have to tell them that the big secret is to do lots and lots of diving. You have to BE THERE; you are not going to get them by playing a round of golf instead of being out on the dive boat. Some dive sites are notoriously difficult to get on. The marvellous Yongala shipwreck off Townsville in Australia is particularly tricky. The wreck is offshore and not sheltered by any reef or island. If the wind blows it rapidly becomes too rough to moor a dive boat comfortably – or even safely – and the dive has to be aborted. Even when the weather is calm there can be a strong current, and poor visibility. My first trip to the wreck was spoiled by torrential rain, and flooded roads, north of Townsville – I could not even drive there from Cairns. My second attempt was foiled by the Southeast trade winds blowing at 25 knots. But my third attempt, aboard Mike Ball’s Spoil Sport, was a brilliant success. The sea was flat calm, the water clear and the current easily manageable. The day and a half that we were on the wreck was enough for me to make a total of seven magical dives (on Nitrox – the wreck is 15 – 30 meters deep). Earlier this year I tried to get to the wreck again but the day I was booked turned windy and miserable, and the operator cancelled. As a dive leader I have learned over the years that it is useless to curse the Gods when weather makes a dive too difficult. Judgement, and some strength of character, is vital to make the abort decision in spite of pressure from guests anxious to make the scheduled dive. These are the same guests who will be in distress, and require rescuing, if you do allow the dive to go ahead. The answer is patience and to keep trying. You can keep on trying, regularly and often, with the certain knowledge that, in diving, this means eventually coming up a winner. Most of the divers I meet these days are shooting digital cameras. Sometimes they laugh at me, and mock my film cameras, and say things like “I only shot 200 images on that last dive, how many did you shoot Bob?”
Then they sit down in the saloon with their computers and call people over to see their best shots. “There is a bit of back scatter in this one but I’ll just remove it with photoshop, how long will it be before you see your shots Bob? Ha! Ha!”. I could take this for a while, but now I am fighting back. “Guys, I aim to shoot ONE PERFECT SHOT, and I do not need photoshop because I do not shoot backscatter. Quality always beats quantity, and I can wait until my films are developed. Instant gratification is associated with low IQ, you know”. One thing I have noticed with digital photographers is that they spend an awful lot of time underwater pushing buttons and staring into their camera deleting images to make space for another 50 shots usually while the perfect subject swims past – and they miss it. They can spend the whole dive fiddling with their camera and images, until the battery goes flat, and not shoot any new images at all. Or they start shooting too early and carry on way too late instead of choosing the one perfect moment. My 15Kg camera rig consists of a Nikon F3 in a huge Aquatica housing, and two Ikelite 150 strobes, that I have had for nearly 20 years. And I have got spares, for the camera and housing anyway, enough to last me another 20 years. To cut the weight I bought an Ikelite 100A strobe a few years back to replace one of the 150’s. I use manual (two wire) EO cords and the rig always works. ALWAYS. After thousands of dives, it has never flooded, nor failed, and every film I have shot with it has turned out just fine. But the insults continue. “Bought that from Noah did you Bob?” Ha! Ha! “Was that salvaged from a Spanish Galleon Bob?” Ha! Ha! “Have to make your own film soon Bob!” Ha! Ha! Very funny indeed, and, sorry to say, they may have a point. I just tried to buy another Ikelite 100A strobe and was told they have stopped making them. Ikelite only makes digital strobes now. They claim that they work with the “Old” film cameras – but that is true only if you shoot using a “Through The Lens” metering cord – TTL, remember, the system that automatically gives you the wrong exposure – but I shoot MANUAL and with my EO cords the new strobes will not fire. The way I take photos is to set focus, shutter speed, f-stop, get my twin strobes pointing the right way, and shoot, and I rarely get it wrong. If I am not sure, I bracket the exposure. Then I know I have it. I once asked my mate Kevin Deacon what exposure he used to take one of his beautiful prize winning pre-digital shots. “All of them” was the reply …. So, seriously, has anyone out there got a new/near new, never flooded, Ikelite 100A for sale?? Please contact me if you have, and I do not need cords, batteries or arms, just the strobe. I’m at <[email protected]> Now, to really annoy my digital friends, some of whom could have bought a good CAR for the price they just paid for their new digital rig, I got my very OLD camera out and took it on the FeBrina this May/June leading four dive cruises out of wonderful Walindi. It is a Nikonos 2 with a 28mm lens I bought for $200 in 1969. Later, the legendary, original model, 15mm lens was produced, and I brought that along as well. In those days we used bulb flash and I admit I did abandon bulbs years ago and switched to the same Ikelite strobes I use with the F3 – I can even swap strobes between cameras underwater when the need arises. “How long have you had your camera?” I innocently inquire, adding quickly “I’ve had mine 38 years, still works like new, perfect optics you know”. Ha! Ha! And it is true. My beautiful manual Nikonos works perfectly and produces wonderful images. I expect it will last another 38 years. Seems most of the digital cameras last about 6 months before they become redundant then you need to replace them with the latest model, which of course does not fit in your housing so you need a new housing as well. This all seems very wasteful to me. The Global Warming police may well complain about my Carbon Footprint when developing film, but I must gain a million points just from using the same cameras for so long – it must take a lot of energy to produce a new camera and housing (and computer). To make my point crystal clear I’ve just dusted off my very first, hence OLDEST, underwater camera. It is nearly 40 years old. I gave it to my mother when I bought my Nikonos and she safely stored it all these years, as mothers do, then recently gave it back to me, as mothers do, along with some embarrassing infant school diaries I wrote. It is a spring wound Ricoh automatic half frame (72 shots) camera in a round, screw together, housing. It works just fine, I’m thinking of taking it along on dive trips and offering it for hire to those digital divers whose cameras have shorted out because one drop of water fell on the electronics. Ha! Ha! [email protected] August 2007 Not so long ago, sharks were as natural a part of the diving environment as masks and fins, and divers prepared to meet them in various fashions.
One diver had flown all the way from Miami USA to Alotau in PNG to join one of our Telita Cruises. With some surprise I watched this keen young man proudly unpack an anti-shark “bang stick” and bandolier of .357 magnum bullets from his dive bag. No shark is going to get me, he explained. He had, through some disturbing chance, managed to carry the bang stick and ammunition through both Australian and PNG customs. His luck ran out on board Telita as I proceeded, to his dismay, to immediately dump the bullets overboard in 200 metres of water. No diver with a bang stick is going to get me, I explained. A married couple occasionally joined our weekend day trips to the Papuan Barrier Reef. They had made themselves two impressive shark sticks about one metre long, painted white, with a nail implanted in one end, a lanyard in the other, and never dived without them. They experienced a fair bit of teasing from other guests, but were confident that the sticks would work, although they had never actually had a shark swim close enough to use them. We departed the dock strictly at 8 am and never waited for anyone. This day the couple had a flat tyre on the way to the dock and arrived just a minute before departure time. They grabbed their dive bags, jumped on the boat and we cast off. A few seconds later they realised that they had left their shark sticks in the boot of the car. They proceeded to have a major discussion deciding whether it was safe to dive or not. Bravery triumphed! They went into the water without their sticks, tempting the Gods of course …. and Inevitably a large hammerhead came up to them and started circling. Without their trusty sticks they just knew their number was up. The hammerhead eventually got bored and swam away. The divers were convinced it was a miracle, and made it back to the dive platform where they vomited from the shock. They obviously reformed their lives since we never saw them again. I have to confess to making a shark stick myself in my early years of diving in PNG. Dinah and I were exploring new diving areas, and at many of the sites we would find ourselves surrounded by large numbers of excited Grey Reef Sharks within moments of entering the water. But we learned that after the initial excitement the sharks calmed down, and often would not be seen again if we repeated the dive. Over the years and after many thousands of dives in tropical waters we realise that the risk to a diver from a shark is very small. We have inevitably had surprise encounters with large Tiger, Great Hammerhead and even Bull Sharks and could easily have been bitten had the sharks that intention. The only times we have had problems was once when I was catching lobsters while snorkelling, and once when Dinah was hand feeding Silvertip Sharks with tuna baits. Even then, and Dinah did get bitten, it was our silly mistake since the shark thought a white knee pad was the bait. Attacks by sharks are usually caused by carrying baits, spear-fishing, thrashing on the surface or finning like a wounded fish. I suggest you check your buddy out next time you dive together …. As individual dive sites become more popular so sharks tend to stay clear and encounters become rarer. Dive operators the world over have found that with few exceptions the only reliable way of getting divers to see sharks is to establish feeding stations. These are now controversial. In 1988 we established a wonderful Silvertip Shark feeding station near Kavieng in PNG where we entertained a family of eleven beautiful Silvertips for several years. I found out recently that there are now very few, if any, Silvertips at the site anymore – most had been killed for their fins. We recently ran a series of cruises through the Louisiade Archipelago, an area once famous for its shark action. Only a few years ago divers reported being chased out of the water by shivers of large sharks – this time, on almost every likely shark dive, we found a string of shark buoys permanently moored to catch all the sharks in the area. Some reefs had long lines hung up on them where long-line fishing vessels had illegally fished too close to the reefs targeting sharks. Sharks were scarce. Is there hope, well yes. In Milne Bay PNG in January 2005 twenty one illegal foreign fishing boats were arrested and seized in the Province. Conservation International is well established in the Provincial Capital and is establishing protected marine areas and, in exchange for not fishing, is helping villagers create sustainable agricultural and business projects. There is also the ironically useful news that many sharks are so contaminated with mercury that people who eat shark fin soup risk brain damage. Let’s save the sharks, condemn the shark killers! And if you hear anyone say anything silly, ask them if they have been eating shark fin soup. SAVE THE SHARKS – Eat Whale Fin Soup “We wanna to seea tha Bigga Sharka” It was late 1970’s, and I was leading a special dive charter aboard the Melanesian Explorer, an ex Japanese harbour ferry converted to a tourist expedition ship. This usually cruised northern PNG, chugging pods of elderly, safari clad, Americans and Europeans on the adventure of a lifetime up the muddy effluent of the Sepik River . At villages they rowdily competed for the attention of the locals, who, disguised as natives, were willing to jump up and down, and exchange lumps of roughly carved timber, for cash in order to buy new outboard motors. The MX, as it was known, was not my idea of a dive boat. The fittings were quite luxurious – but everything was cramped, and it was certainly not designed for 190 cm Caucasian dive instructors as I discovered by banging my head on the upper deck when attempting to board the vessel. The group I was hired to take diving consisted of thirteen Italian males (Oh so Male!) and two females – who were, naturally, not to be permitted to dive. The men all sported hairy chests displayed in apish opulence through the failure of the top five buttons of their short sleeved shirts. Nestled in the hair, and strung by gold anchor chain, were massive gold pendants in the shape of …. SHARKS! No that is not true – it was not actually anchor chain, I just made that up. I mentioned the short sleeves because the next thing that caught my attention as I greeted them from the aircraft was that each of them had a tattoo on their arms of a shark with their individual blood group underneath. The leader of the group was a wonderful diver and rogue named Scipio Silvi. His gold anchor chain clasped a giant Great White Shark tooth – extracted, he later informed me, from a Great White Shark he had speared in the Mediterranean where they are known to bother Tuna fishermen by competing for the tuna. “We wanna to seea tha Bigga Sharka” they repeated. “No problem mates, but around here you ought to have the tattoo on both arms and a leg, just to be safe”. We were headed for the fabled Wuvulu Island and the Hermit and Ninigo group in the Bismarck Sea west of Manus Island – plenty of big sharks out there. After banging my head again, this time trying to get into my cabin, I decided to set up the portable compressors and tanks on the open sun deck. More work to carry the tanks, but I was hoping to preserve some brain power for the cruise and, besides, I correctly guessed that the favourite occupation of the two ladies would be to see how little clothing they could wear without actually being naked while basting themselves in the tropical sun. I just assumed that the fumes from the cooking flesh would be filtered out by the compressor when I filled the diving tanks. The divers swaggered aboard, retired to their cabins, and we set sail. Early the next morning, after tending to the cut over my eye caused by brute contact with the saloon deck head, I came on deck. It is a favourite, magical, time for me. The dawn light glinting on a distant island promised a perfect day. Small ships move slowly – perhaps we were making 10 knots, and there is nothing that can be done to speed things up. I have learned, instead of becoming impatient, to savour these times, and my good fortune. Here I was in a South Pacific paradise, on a fabulous adventure diving unknown waters … with a bunch of crazy Italians. So I quietly contemplated the day ahead. My preparations were complete, I was ready – perhaps I should have been a trifle concerned about the competence of the divers, none of whom I had seen dive before, but Scipio knew his stuff, I was sure. After all, he had speared a Great White Shark and lived to tell the tale ….. The island crept closer and I could see the tantalising reef colour against the blue, blue water. The ship, belching its deep throated chug, seemed as eager and excited as I was. We arrived, anchored, and Scipio joined me. “Come” he said, “we go diving”. “But what about the others?” I asked “We go! The others – Pphhhht!”. So Scipio and I went off in the ship’s tender and had a marvellous dive. We were not in the water for more than a minute before a dozen Grey Reef Sharks were buzzing around us, then a couple of majestic Silvertips joined in. Grey reefs come from all directions and act rather nervously but Silvertips just come straight at you. At first the iridescent silver edges of the fins, lights in space, catch your eye shimmering towards you like some alien ship navigating from the deep. Suddenly the shark has form, body, eyes – and a mouth. Only a fool would move, the shark obviously can out swim and manoeuvre any mere diver. Sharks do not eat people, especially divers – who taste horribly of rubber and metal – unless they mistake them for something else – like a wounded struggling fish . So I kept my fins still, pretended I had not bashed my head, exuded good health, and held my camera in front of me just in case it was a dumb shark. A mere metre away it flicked its tail and made a right angle turn, eyeing me as it moved away. That was a hell of a thrill. In PNG in the 1970s and 1980s it was like that. Just about everywhere you dived there were sharks. The first dive at a site was always the best, if you dived it a second time there were never as many sharks, and if you continued to dive it sharks mostly never bothered to show. But that first dive – awesome! There were plenty of first dives to be made then, and diving at most sites was so infrequent that returning to the site at a later date usually repeated the action. If you are still a shark virgin and are still a mite concerned about meeting your first bigga sharka when diving I’ll tell you a secret. They cannot stand being stared at. So stay still, eyeball the monster – and it will swim away. Well it works for me, anyway. Scipio did know his divers – we returned to the ship to find the decks still empty and only after banging on cabin doors and yelling “Multo Bueno!” did we get the others out of their bunks. I was getting a bit of a headache from all the yelling (and contact with a couple more low deck beams) and it was even noisier once we had everyone out of the cabins and they started shouting at each other. I thought there was a fight but it turns out that this is the way Italian divers communicate. We finally got them in the water. Half were frantically pointing at their ears and wiggling their hands with the “Something’s Wrong” signal, those that could actually dive had dropped at least 50 m down the reef wall and I could make them out way below chasing the few brave sharks to make an appearance. Scipio signalled me to stand by, then demonstrated the way that he controlled ascents – namely by going out and grabbing divers as they shot back up to the surface. One dive a day was enough for our heroes but Scipio and I were into it. We dived a passage where a line of manta rays paraded past; an outer wall festooned with soft corals; a reef point where we were swarmed by thousands of trevally and barracuda. The corals were vibrant and unspoiled, the fishes abundant and the sharks, well the sharks were beautiful. No one got eaten, not even an arm chomped off, and more amazingly, no one got bent. I had the worst injuries, to my battered head, which some reckon are permanent. The guests were happy. As we said farewell each of the divers took my hand, hugged me and said “It wasa sooo wonderfull, thanka you so mucha!”. |
AuthorBob Halstead usually has Deep Thoughts on all manner of dive related activity. Have a dive in and read some of his best previously-published articles. ArchivesCategories
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