Shark bite Saturday

 So, there I was, out on a boat dive with two mates, enjoying our second drift when I landed a fish. Feeling good, I started making my way back to the boat—except, minor issue, the boat was drifting faster than my dreams of a safe return. Before I could reach it, I spotted a massive bait ball, fish everywhere, sharks in full-on party mode. My dive buddies were closer to the boat, so I thought, why rush? Might as well hang around, try my luck, and wait for them to swing back.

I got my first fish off my shooting line, reloaded, and—because I’m not one to waste a perfectly good opportunity —I stuck the fish on my spear tip through the mouth. (For those who don’t know, this is the underwater equivalent of carrying a meat platter through a lion enclosure.)

At first, it was mostly just smaller fish and sharks going nuts, nothing too exciting. But then, some quality Fulvies showed up, and I figured, why not? I lined up, took the shot—decent placement, but not a stone shot, thanks to the barracuda already weighing down my spear. Normally, no big deal… except, this Fulvie was now putting on a full Broadway performance. And as you all know, a struggling Fulvie is basically a dinner bell for sharks.

Cue the blacktips. Now, I usually don’t mind them too much around Scotties, but lately, they’ve been getting bold. No personal space, no fear, just pure shark audacity. So there I was, trying to land the Fulvie while fending off these enthusiastic, uninvited dinner guests.

And then—because clearly, things weren’t chaotic enough—I caught something huge in my peripheral vision. A potato bass. But not just any potato bass—this guy came flying up from the bottom like an underwater missile, gunning for my fish. Usually, these guys hang around mid-water, lurking like creepy uncles at a wedding, but this one? This one meant business.

Now, let me clarify something: If it had just been the sharks getting too pushy, I’d have cut my losses and let them take the fish. At least they remove it from the spear. But a potato bass? Different story. These guys have a nasty habit of grabbing your fish and your spear and dragging you down like a cartoon villain. And considering my lines were already a tangled nightmare from managing two fish, getting pulled under was a very real risk.

So now my priorities shifted: Job #1—keep the potato bass from stealing a fish. Job #2—avoid getting tangled. Job #3—oh right, the increasingly impatient sharks.

I started jabbing the potato bass with my gun barrel, but he was relentless. Every time I pushed him away, he came straight back, determined to rob me blind. Meanwhile, the blacktips were still swarming, completely indifferent to my existential crisis. And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse—BAM. A blacktip bit me. Not an attack—more of a “Hey, move it, I’m trying to eat here” kind of bite. I was too busy keeping my fish from Mr. Potato Bass to even blame him.

At this point, the potato finally gave up (probably insulted by my lack of generosity), but the blacktip? Oh no, he was committed. Even as the boat arrived, he kept coming at me like a pushy salesman who just won’t take “no” for an answer. Only when one of my dive buddies jumped in to help did he finally lose interest, allowing me to scramble back onto the boat like a man who had seen things.

So yeah, that’s how my casual dive turned into a full-on survival challenge. Moral of the story? If you ever find yourself fending off sharks and a potato bass at the same time, just remember: You are the weakest link. Goodbye.