The red rocks of Isla Guadalupe gleamed in the morning sun, a clear sky welcoming us after a stomach-churning 14-hour crossing. The crashing waves and the cries of the sea lions on the nearby shore were the only sounds to be heard a hundred and fifty miles from the mainland. The water churned as the foot-high fins cut the surface like a knife through cerulean silk. It was a perfect day for diving.

“We have a 16-footer,” announced Patric Douglas, the team leading our expedition. Beneath his glasses, Douglas smiled like a proud dad as he pointed to the great white shark surrounding the cages. Not wanting to miss out on the action, I hurried to join the other divers, who had already scrambled into their wetsuits before the great white shark disappeared into the cobalt depths.

Moments later, after nearly being knocked overboard by the tidal surge, I was safely inside the 100-square-foot cage, the hookah’s regulator springing from between my clenched teeth onto the deck above. The current shook the cage, and us, only slightly more gently than a washing machine.

And then it appeared. Like a ghostly shadow, the shark approached from below, slowly moving its huge tail from side to side as if it had all the time in the world. This was nothing like seeing a shark confined to an aquarium tank. With our cage hanging over the side of the 88-foot MV Islander, my cage mates and I knew very well that we were just visitors to the shark’s domain.

As the giant approached, we determined that it was a female, and when it slithered past just inches from our cage, its length was so great that it seemed like an eternity before it passed. I’ve heard that great white sharks can reach such lengths, and more, and for a better perspective, I told myself I’d be seeing creatures about the length of a VW bus. What he hadn’t counted on was circumference. He joked with freshwater sailor friends that he was going to ride a shark, but after seeing how wide a female could grow, there was no conceivable way he could have ridden one, even if he had been suicidal enough to attempt something so ridiculous. (and illegal) feat. The six-foot-wide creature glided past, its black eye so close we could see the pupil, making the shark even more mysterious than when it seemed to have two unseeing black orbs.

When I came out 45 minutes later, he had a grin as full of teeth as a great white shark. Douglas patted me on the back after helping me out of the cage and back on deck. “Pretty boring, huh?” He guffawed at his own joke while I racked my brain for a suitable adjective. What came out of my mouth cannot be printed in most reputable publications.

Only in recent years have these waters, under the jurisdiction of the Mexican state of Baja California del Norte, become famous for their population of white sharks. Other places around the world—Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, South Africa’s notorious Shark Alley, and even San Francisco’s Farallon Islands—have long been renowned for their notorious aquatic residents, but Guadalupe Island has quickly become a favorite both for its convenient location (overnight sailing from San Diego) and its warm waters and amazing visibility, which can reach up to 100 feet. Such ideal conditions attract not only adventure-seeking divers like my shipmates, but also scientists in search of the best research conditions.

During shark season (September to November), at least 50 great whites, and possibly as many as 100, patrol the waters, estimates marine biologist Mauricio Hoyos, who spends several months a year camped out in a tin shack a couple of yards away. away. of a fragrant colony of sea lions. He and a couple of dozen lobster and abalone fishermen comprised the entire population of the island, a desolate red rock long ago denuded of vegetation by a marauding herd of stray goats.

After dinner on our second night, Hoyos presented his latest finds to a galley of enthusiastic shark fans. We feel special, even privileged. Not only were we part of the elite (a couple hundred a year tops) visiting these waters, but we also got a first-hand account of the most up-to-date shark information available.

Shark Diver provides great help, both financial and practical, to Hoyos and his project. The crew provided nearly all of the research photos of the sharks, duplicates of which exist in a huge folder in the ship’s galley, each labeled with the shark’s name and distinguishable markings so passengers can identify visitors under the ship. Water. Divers, inspired by the calls aboard the Hoyos boats, often send donations or even specifically requested equipment. Shark Trust Wines, which has graced the table at many a Shark Diver meal, donates a portion of its profits to both shark conservation and research. The combination of first-hand encounters, newly acquired scientific knowledge, and cultured respect for the creatures we came to visit was just one of the many aspects of the trip that made it unique.

When we entered the kitchen our last night in Guadeloupe, we did so solemnly, well aware that our once-in-a-lifetime experience was coming to an end. It was then that we discovered that our friendly chefs had taken it upon themselves to prepare a farewell meal that we would not forget, including the 60 pound ahi tuna that had been caught the day before. Divers and crew retold the story of how we almost had two of this kind on our tables that night, and those lucky enough to be in the cages at the time shared their photos and videos.

Unlike the tuna caught that last day, the yellowfin for dinner had been landed whole, without a shark-sized chunk missing. There was quite a ruckus on board, and below, as Melanie Marks, founder of Shark Trust Wines, began fishing for a yellowfin, much to the excitement of a white patrolling just below the boat. The occupants of the cages had a spectacular view as the great white shark slowly circled towards the struggling fish on the line and then hurtled towards its prey with astonishing speed. With a single bite, the fish was sliced ​​just behind the gills, and Marks had no problem retrieving what was left of her catch. She shrugged, well aware that’s what you get when you fish the “sharkest place on Earth.”