How to Swim With Sharks Without Sleeping With The Fishes

Chuck Noris Sees You

If you can see Chuck Norris, Chuck Norris can see you. If you can’t see Chuck Norris, you may be only seconds away from death.
Chuck Norris Facts

I never really understood the meaning of those words until today. I always thought they were just fable. A story frazzled parents told their kids in order to scare them to sleep. But staring into the steely eyes of a cold-blooded killing machine changes a man.

Yeah, I’ve seen Chuck Norris. Only I’m not talking about the Texas Ranger. I’m talking about Chuck Norris, the 7 foot, 230 pound Sand Tiger Shark at Siam Ocean World—so dubbed by me, in honor of his deathly steel gaze and deadly round-house kicking ability (okay, so I may have made up the part about the round-house).

Alright, I’m exaggerating just a smidge. I’ll be the first to admit—there isn’t any real danger here. It’s a controlled environment inhabited only by non-aggressive (and presumably, well-fed) marine predators.

But it’s not so much about confronting real danger as it is about confronting irrational fear. The fears we all have that keep us from living life to the full. The fears that keep us from expanding to our potential. Those are the fears that need smashing.

Even though when I get on a commercial airliner, I know intellectually that the chances that I’m going to a horrible, fiery death are infintecimal, there’s still a little voice that asks—what if?

And even though I know it would be commercial suicide for a multi-million dollar tourist attraction to offer an experience that had even the slightest chance of resulting in maimed, lacerated tourist corpses, there’s still a little voice that says—but you can never be too sure… (this is Thailand, after all)

So I decided it would be a good idea to bone up on my shark-repellant jujitsu skills—just in case.

The Secret Art of Shaolin Shark Boxing

So what is the recommended course of action should you find yourself the object of unwanted elasmobranch attention? Swift blow to the nose? Preemptive eye gouge? Volley of colorful language?

Most expert advice in this category is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine. But for the information of readers here are some emerging themes:

• Don’t panic (in large, friendly letters)
• Get out of the water (counter-intuitive, I know)
• Hit it with whatever you have “on hand”—but preferably not with your hands (since they may be bitten off, I guess—ouch)
• Go for the gills (because the scrotum is harder to locate?)
• Be as aggressive as possible; but don’t provoke it unnecessarily (wait, what?)

But here’s my favorite piece of shark survival advice:

• Don’t bleed

That’s right. Should you find that despite following the above ANSI approved survival procedure to a tee, you still sustain lacerations or loss of appendages, you must do your best not to bleed into the water, since blood is to shark as oatmeal is to cookie monster; and will send him into a psychotic feeding frenzy. Hence, this somewhat-less-than-helpful advice from the University of Chicago Press (1987):

Admittedly, it is difficult not to bleed when injured. … Those who cannot learn to control their bleeding should not attempt to swim with sharks, for the peril is too great.

So, feeling completely at ease and confident that this was a capital idea (thanks, Jodi) I decided to test the waters with a controlled training run at Siam Ocean World, Bangkok, home to a variety of predatory sharks and rays. The following is an account of that episode.

Remember kids, don’t try this at home (if there are Sharks in your house, I suggest that you move).

D-Day

Registration is at 10.30 AM sharp. Of course, there’s the usual disclaimer that carefully explains that in the off chance that you do end up maimed and lacerated—you were like that when you got here. And should you suffer further misfortune during an attempted “rescue operation” (ha ha), we’re not responsible for that either.

I ask the attendant for clarification:

I take it that if I don’t sign this, then I don’t get to dive?

I can’t tell if her laughter is nervous or polite, but it’s evident she thinks I’m joking.

I’m not. But I have my answer, so I go ahead and sign it.

HER: You’ve seen the sharks through the tunnel glass, right?

ME: Yes.

HER: They’re 30% bigger than they appear.

ME: Fantastic.

So, after handing over the last piece of paper I’ll ever sign, I’m escorted to the diving zone where my dive master, Popeye (spitting image of his cartoon namesake) gets me fitted out with wetsuit and weight belt.

This is followed by a basic education in diving apparatus and submarine sign-language. I learn how to say, “OK”, “Got a problem” and “Dude, where’s my air!?”. Mention of marine predators is conspicuously absent from the discussion.

But, armed with my meticulous research on secret Shaolin Shark Boxing techniques, acceleration of the hemostatic reflex, and a crash course in not drowning I take to the water like Charles Bronson to a gay pride march.

It takes about 12 and a half seconds for me to realize that any intention I may have had about going toe to toe with one of these kings of the deep was pure, unadulterated foolishness. I may as well have been on another planet, in someone else’s body, wearing seven pairs of overalls for all the corporal dexterity I have under water.

Visor half full of sea water, completely clueless about depth control and struggling not to continually roll over due to a poorly distributed weight belt, if a hungry Sand Tiger had decided I looked like lunch, I wouldn’t have had much say in the matter.

So I reverted to plan B: hope for the best.

Fortunately, I remember my training and manage to communicate the pencil roll problem to Popeye who proceeds to adjust my belt so I can stay upright without cramping up on one side.

The plan is simple: descend to the tank bed, equalize, and wait for the sharks to come to us. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, for one thing—and I’m a little embarrassed to admit this—it seems I have a buoyancy problem (support group, anyone?). Apparently I didn’t pack enough lead, and I find it almost impossible to actually kneel down on the ground per instructions, and instead spend the whole time flailing around trying to get my legs back under me. This is problematic for two important reasons:

1. At least half of my rather pedestrian shark-dive video footage features me flopping around like a marionette.
2. The sharks have shown up in numbers and I’m not completely sure I have enough self-control not to inadvertently collide with one of them (which I was advised would fall into the category of very-bad-ideas).

Fortunately, Popeye comes to my rescue, grabbing onto my diver to keep me from floating up and—quite literally—butting heads with Chucky. I’ve always said you can’t keep me down—I never though it would turn out to be a health hazard.

Before long though, I’ve found my sea-legs (still attached), and start to explore this strangely beautiful, alien environment. In truth, there’s no real fear. Although getting up close and personal with these great marine predators inspires… let’s call it respect… the experience is far more about awe and curiosity than intimidation.

Given that, I looked on this episode as a kind of training run. A prelude to meeting one of these awesome creatures in a more natural setting. And it’s taught me a few important lessons:

1. Sharks are not mindless killing machines. That’s just a stereotype. Most are just trying to make their way in the world. The real Chuck Norris has eaten more people than the average Shark. True fact.
2. Underwater my environmental awareness is almost zero and it’s obvious I need to have a lot more dive-time under my belt before even thinking about getting close-up with one of these beasts on its own turf (a thousand years ought to do it). More than once I glanced up to see a pair of beady eyes and broad, toothy grin heading straight for me. Not something I’d like to experience in the wild.

As for the aquarium diving experience:

Is it scary?

Honestly no.

Should you do it?

Only if you like trying new things and being amazed.

At 7100 baht, this experience doesn’t come cheaply.

Fortunately though, it wont cost you an arm and a leg.

Photo by Richard Ling

Juicy Video

Shark Diving in Bangkok Thailand from Lachlan Cotter on Vimeo.

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