Transcript of Episode 8

Kingdom of the Dead

The call about the body on the beach came in at 7 that morning. A local fisherman and his wife had been enjoying a sunrise stroll when they made the unpleasant discovery. Local services were soon at hand to oversee the grim scene. The body of the female was lying face up on the sand at Franskraal. It was obvious to the team attending that she had died a violent death in the waters of Gansbaai- the great white shark capital of the world. The victim was known to some of those present and had visited the area twice in the previous year. Examining her injuries, the cause of her demise became clear. Around her midsection white skin had been ripped apart, revealing a gaping hole just below the shark’s pectoral fin.

The discovery of the female great white shark on the beach at Franskraal on the morning of May 3rd 2017 was recognized straight away as a remarkable event in South Africa- though at the time its full significance was not yet fully understood. A marine biologist and shark expert, Dr Malcolm Smale, was flown in specially from Port Elizabeth to conduct a necropsy on the unlikely victim. Dr Smale began his dissection early the following morning supported by the White Shark Research Group. Measuring just under 5 meters long and weighing around 1,100 kilos, it was hard to fathom what could have taken down such an enormous animal. Alison Towner, had been one of the first on the scene the previous morning and was once again pondering this question as she assisted in the necropsy. Her mind was constantly being drawn back to nearly two months earlier and another call out just a few minutes down the coast.

On a bright morning in early February, responding to a report, the Dyer Island Conservation Trust, had found a deceased great white on the damp sand at Pearly Beach. A juvenile female at 2.6 metres long, there were no blatant signs of what might have caused her death. The area was known for strong currents and two whale sharks had been stranded there in recent years. It was certainly not unheard of for a shark to beach itself in rough conditions or in overenthusiastic pursuit of prey. Yet it was still rare enough to raise some doubts. These doubts were amplified when Alison Towner and staff brushed sand off the shark’s body to reveal what would be described as ‘strange and mysterious markings’. On and near the dorsal fin they noted these numerous raking lines across the regular dark grey skin. They didn’t appear to match the more commonly observed marks from watercraft accidents, or tussles with seals or members of its own kind, and Alison decided to photograph them for later analysis.

Growing up in the north of England, Alison Towner hadn’t exactly come from a white shark hotspot, yet they had come to be the focus of her life’s obsession and work. Her connection with sharks had been built on deep sentimental roots. When her father passed away early in her childhood, she maintained a bond with him through repeated readings of a novel he had written, inspired by the marine creatures that captured his imagination. After completing her training as a marine biologist, Alison travelled overseas, working as a dive instructor, before landing her dream job in Gansbaai researching its iconic species. From the first time she set eyes on a great white shark in person- an unfulfilled dream of her late father’s- she was so captivated that she decided to stay on in the little South African town, where she knew she could always be near them. Since 2007 she had been working and gaining invaluable experience with the Dyer Island Conservation Trust and Marine Dynamics tour group- but nothing could have prepared her for the incredible events of 2017.

After she had studied the juvenile great white washed up in February of that year, Alison Towner had already held suspicions over what may have been behind its death- but at that time nothing could be concluded. However, as the necropsy was being conducted on the much larger female two months later, another clue stood out to her. Looking inside the open wound, she found only a vast cavity where the liver should have been. The involvement of a rival marine predator in the death in February had been suspected, but this fresh new evidence was almost overwhelming.

Although Alison Towner had never observed the mark of this grisly extraction before, she was aware from the research of others in her field that it was a rare but distinctive hallmark of this particular predator. On February 8th 2017, a pair of them had been spotted in the bay, and the very next morning she had been alerted to the first dead shark. With the second death and the missing liver, the signs now squarely pointed towards orcas as the perpetrators. However, there were still many unanswered questions and much to learn about these unfamiliar creatures for Alison and her team. Searching in a marine biology handbook for the animal listed as Orca Orcinus would perhaps have provided an ominous marker of what had begun, and what lay ahead- the scientific name Orcinus translating from Ancient Latin as ‘from the kingdom of the dead’.    

Though orcas are also known as ‘killer whales’ they are in fact members of the dolphin family- earning that title from being killers of whales, rather than being strictly classified as whales themselves. In spite of the intimidating name and their position at the top of the food chain, the threat posed to humans by these animals is, perhaps surprisingly, almost non-existent- in stark contrast to the threat humans present to them. As depicted in the 2013 documentary Blackfish, orcas in captivity may very occasionally harm people- though whether they do so intentionally or not is still debated. It has been suggested that due to the psychological stress of life in enclosures, the species can develop abnormal or aggressive behavioural traits. Between 1991 and 2010, Tilikum, an Icelandic male orca, was involved in three fatalities- drowning two trainers, as well as killing and disfiguring a man who had snuck into his tank after closing time. Blackfish argued that these traumatic deaths, as well as a number of other similar non-fatal interactions, come about due to the unnatural conditions of aquarium life.

The record of harmful interactions between wild orcas and humans- or more accurately the lack of a record- supports this assessment. One incident is often brought up as a counterpoint. In 1972, 18 year old surfer Hans Kretschmer was in the waves less than 30 meters off Point Sur, California. The ocean was crystal clear when from his board he saw a shadow rising up out of the corner of his eye. In a split second, he was grabbed on the leg, the huge mouth opening over the end of his surfboard too. Throwing punches back at the creature’s ‘glossy, black head’, he suddenly came free from his board. All the while anticipating a second strike Hans managed to bodysurf back to shore. In hospital, he received a hundred stitches to close two wounds on his thigh where his wetsuit had been shredded. As he recuperated, curious marine biologists visited to gather details on the bite. When shown a selection of images of different marine animals, Hans Kretschmer shocked them by pointing to an orca. His friends nearby had described it as an almost cartoonish scene, the young man ‘a small helpless doll in the jaws of a huge whale’. It was speculated that the killer whale, hunting the sea lions seen chasing fish only minutes before, had mistakenly struck Hans in a first-of-its-kind occurrence.  

As fascinating as the record of this standalone wild orca attack appears, on review various details raise doubts and perhaps point towards a different conclusion. In an interview with Orcazine in 2013, Hans Kretschmer recalled the doctor telling him his injury looked like someone had chopped his leg with a sharp axe. However, an orca’s teeth puncture, crush and rake into their prey. Another set of teeth would have been needed to leave a thigh sliced surgically to the bone, an artery fortuitously missed, as in Hans Kretschmer’s case. Those of another supreme predator that inhabits the waters of California- of course, the great white shark. Tellingly, the case of Hans Kretschmer is today listed and examined in the records of The Global Shark Attack File. Its investigation describes the tell-tale ‘razor-like cuts’ on the victim, while examination of tooth marks on the destroyed surfboard and wetsuit were determined by investigator Ralph Collier to come from a white shark.

Ultimately, the modus operandi of the creature that smashed up Hans Kretschmer’s surfboard is much more recognizable today than it would have been in 1972. The characteristic ‘bite-and-spit’ strike, has grown increasingly familiar as surfing has grown in popularity on the US West Coast in the decades since. All the while, a wild orca attack on a surfer, or any water user for that matter, has never again been reported. Though it appears humans are strictly not on the menu for these enormous carnivores, a wide range of species- around 140- most certainly are; depending on where in the world they live. Within the orca species there are eleven ecotypes- each of which has their own range of behaviours, culture, distinguishing physical characteristics, and for some, particular dialects to communicate within their populations.

Another specific feature of each grouping is their highly selective diet. In most cases the various types will eat fish or mammals, but not both. Even within those parameters they tend to specialize. For instance, not only do resident orcas in the North Pacific eat exclusively fish, but 96% of their diet is chinook salmon. So wedded are they to their chosen food source, that they can in fact struggle to adapt to another. And when salmon numbers crash, the mortality rate of orcas will rise with it, in spite of the availability of similar prey. Somewhat like nomadic humans it’s thought that their movements, hunting techniques and lifestyles have developed around their food sources, essentially creating particular cultures within ecotypes. Taking this fact into consideration, what might have compeled orcas off the coast of South Africa to start hunting great white sharks? And was the apparent feeding on the liver of the shark at Franskraal just a freak event, or a sign of some greater shift taking place?

Before the day of the necropsy on the Franskraal female was even done, another call arrived for Shark Watch South Africa. As sunset approached on that Thursday, Alison Towner and her team were once again heading back to Franksraal Beach. If any doubt remained over orca involvement, the sight that met them dispelled it. The mutilated remains of a male great white shark had been discarded on the sand. Though they were able to measure it at around 3.5 metres in length, the task was made harder by the substantial damage done to his midsection. Not only was the liver again missing, but also the heart and a large quantity of flesh and viscera. Like the previous victim, this was one of many adult white sharks that would habitually return to Gansbaai each May to hunt young fur seals. Using all their experience and nous, the naive seals would normally provide rich pickings, but this year these formidable sharks had unwittingly themselves become prey. 

The week had one more nasty surprise in store. Usually a Sunday afternoon visit to the picturesque Struisbaai would be an idyllic way to round off the weekend. But for the Dyer Island Conservation Team there was a feeling of disconcertment as they stood examining the latest victim. Another adult white shark lay before them- a four and a half metre long male displaying the now familiar signs of death by orca . The usually dark grey upper had whitened from extreme bleed-out, adding to the haunting effect of seeing such a magnificent predator disposed of in so clinical a manner. Inside his stomach the team found the remnants of a successful hunt- the remains of a cape fur seal; as well as signs of possible cannibalism- a shark vertebrae was extracted from the putrid juices. And in his sizeable jaw the barb of a stingray was found, further adding to the battle-hardened impression. Why would any animal consider this warrior shark viable prey? How could it be overcome? And why would orcas go to all that trouble? The answers to all of these questions narrowed down to the same point- the site of the vicious gouging wound and the liver stolen from within.

For the great white shark and most of the wider shark family, the liver is not just another organ. In many ways it is an exceptional and crucial component of these creatures’ remarkable abilities and survival. Practically it helps provide buoyancy, allowing sharks to stay afloat in water. It also functions as a vital energy store, supporting the most central requirements of their lives- providing the fuel for the incredible migration, growth and reproduction cycles that many sharks undergo. It’s size befits its importance. In a great white shark it can account for up to 25% of its total body weight and fills up 90% of the space inside their body cavity. For any animal daring enough to try, it naturally makes a rewarding meal, full of rich liquid fats like squalene. Shark skin is made up of teethlike plates that wear down tooth enamel and even after all that effort, in terms of nutritional value, the flesh underneath pales in comparison to the prized organ orcas consider a delicacy.

The week of attacks on white sharks by orcas in South Africa was sudden and shocking for marine biologists, but this behaviour was not entirely unknown. In 1997, in Northern California, a cruise full of excited tourists headed out to the Farallon Islands during the autumn shark season, hoping to see its famous attraction, the great white. But on that day the orca would steal the limelight. As the boat approached the island’s waters, a 6 metre long female orca was spotted, with her calf in tow. Then something caught a crew member’s attention- a dark shadow appeared to be hugging the side of their boat. Cautiously it turned and moved out from the hull revealing itself to be a sub-adult white shark. Soon the mother orca noticed this figure too, and as the shadow went away from the boat, she suddenly dipped below the surface heading in its direction. What happened next left those onboard stunned and with a unique story to tell.

Just a few moments later the orca remerged, this time with its target gripped between its teeth. The white underside of the motionless shark faced upwards, as it was carried across the surface. Naturalist and Farallon-based shark expert Peter Pyle was racing to the scene, having been alerted over the radio by the tour boat’s captain. He arrived just in time to wave farewell to the defeated shark, having plunged his pole cam into the water at the very moment its vanquisher opened its jaws and let it sink down to a seafloor grave. But something had been left behind. Peter Pyle witnessed what would one day become a trademark of such encounters- a large liver, cut loose and floating up to the surface. In astonishment he watched as the mother and her calf proceeded to feast upon it. Within a few minutes they were gone, leaving behind only a scattering of scraps for the seabirds to descend on.

Though such encounters almost undoubtedly happen away from human eyes, the next to be witnessed came eighteen years later, off the Neptune Islands in South Australia- a renowned shark cage diving hotspot, in a country where it’s otherwise prohibited. On a February morning in 2015 the Shark Warrior boat had been cruising near Action Bay on the north side of the island. When the day trippers in the cage and the boat’s part-glass bottom first heard the clicks and whistles of orcas, some assumed the company was playing them over the sound system. But from above deck, a mass of movement could be seen around a kilometre away. Very soon it was confirmed to be a pod of orcas and they were swimming swiftly in the direction of the boat. Nobody had any idea why they were moving with such agility and purpose as they came near, until a shark’s fin broke the surface.

The crew had no experience of interactions between these two top predators but the meeting took on a definite pattern. The pod of six orcas was chasing the lone shark, a sub-adult white shark. Two of the hunting party were only calves but at 3 metres long already nearly matched the size of the animal they pursued. Over the next hour a prolonged chase took place. Though the shark attempted to evade them and occasionally to fend them off with the threat of its jaws, it was fighting a losing battle. As seen in their hunting of whales, the orcas used their superior numbers and organisation to herd and wear down their prey. Taking turns, one orca kept it near the surface, with others cutting off escape routes. Intermittently, one of the adult members of the pod would find the right moment to slam the shark, tiring it out with repeated blows and chops from its tail, almost like body shots in a boxing match. In desperation the shark eventually pulled a sharp U-turn and made a break for freedom. But the moment had arrived for the calves to earn their stripes, halting it in its tracks. Then the matriarch of the pod breached and her more than 3 tons of bulk crashed down onto the trapped shark, forcing them both under. The witnesses on the boat drew their breath as the commotion died down. Within a few moments a blood slick began to run across the ripples and it was all over.

Out of sight we can assume the same grisly extraction of the liver took place. An uncertainty over how this precise method was carried out long remained a mystery for many experts, but the work of a New Zealand-based orca researcher shed light on the likeliest scenario. Dr Ingrid Visser founded the Orca Research Trust in 1998 and had unparalleled insight into orca predation on sharks. When the attacks in Gansbaai in 2017 began she became a vital reference point. Dr Visser’s theory is that in some parts of the world certain pods or families of orcas have developed a culture of hunting sharks. She noted how in New Zealand, pods had seemingly started targeting smaller sharks and honing their skills, before graduating to more dangerous opponents like great whites. From her research vessel she had witnessed first hand predation on seven-gill sharks and used it as a template to explain what was happening hidden beneath the surface in the Farallon’s, Neptune’s and in Gansbaai.

A computer-generated recreation brought the scene to life in vivid detail. After tiring out the shark with constant harrying and blows, an orca would find the right moment to grab the flagging creature and flip it onto its back. In doing so it cleverly exploits its Achilles’ heel- once held upside down for a short period of time, a shark will fall into tonic immobility, being unable to get away. Using echolocation the orcas can detect the fatty organs inside and then the surgery begins. One orca holds the shark in place while another bites onto a pectoral fin and yanks it viciously. After repeated pulling, with a ‘ripping velcro’ sound, which Dr Ingrid Visser had heard before underwater, the shark’s middle would tear apart at just the right point to allow the huge fatty liver to pop out. Occasionally an extra vigorous rip could expose the heart as an added bonus.

Dr Visser’s belief that shark hunting specialists would begin with smaller sharks before moving onto bigger prey, was supported when Shark Watch South Africa reviewed their data from False Bay and Gansbaai. From 2014 there were various testimonies of attacks in the region by orcas on blue sharks, bronze whalers, and like in New Zealand, seven-gills- or cow sharks as they’re called in South Africa. Shark expert Alison Kock had examined some of the seven-gill corpses divers had found resting on the seabed. With echoes of Dr Ingrid Visser’s theory, she concluded from the tearing injuries it looked as if at least two orcas had worked together to cause them. Whereas orcas in South Africa had traditionally only been sighted far offshore near shipping lanes and whale migrations, in recent years there had also been a huge increase in sightings along the south-west coastline. But sightings of one particular pair had risen to prominence in the investigation into the white shark killing spree in Gansbaai.

In 2015, just around the headland in False Bay, there had been another spate of attacks on seven-gill sharks. Some boats near one of these incidents were visited by the recently fed shark killers, who swam under and around their vessels. The duo was already known to marine observers in South-West Africa, having first appeared in Ludendorf, Namibia in 2009. Brothers- and inseparable ones at that- they patrolled a territory south, around the Cape, past Gansbaai and on to Port Elizabeth. As they surfaced in tandem alongside the boats in False Bay, they were easily identifiable. Their dorsal fins, one of which drooped to the left, the other to the right, had earned them their nicknames, which would one day be known around the world- Port and Starboard.

Orcas can be broadly divided into three categories. Resident orcas live close to shore, typically feed on fish or squid and live in pods of ten to twenty members. Transient orcas on the other hand, roam across the sea in smaller pods of around five, and exclusively hunt mammals. A third group, offshore orcas follow and eat schooling fish, often living in very large pods of thirty of more. In spite of their many similarities the three differ genetically and never mix or interbreed. The shark-hunting pair of Port and Starboard belong to the offshore variety of orca, perhaps the least studied and understood by humans. Regardless it is safe to say that they are in many ways a highly unusual and intriguing pair of orcas.

The first striking thing about them is their physical appearance. Collapsed dorsal fins are commonly seen in a captive orcas, but hardly ever in those in the wild. This feature is sometimes explained as a signifier of depression or trauma in captivity, and so with Port and Starboard it has given rise to any number of dramatic backstories and psychological diagnoses to try account for their strange fins- as well as their novel behaviour. Other theories suggest the condition may be genetic or developed over extended periods unsupported above the surface of the water, but there is no definite explanation. Also noteworthy is Port and Starboard’s constant companionship. Though they have been sighted on occasion as part of a six orca pod, their bond appears unbreakable, often swimming side by side almost in sync.

A final unusual thing about the brothers is their proximity to the coast- as might be expected an unconventional habit for offshore orcas. Some global studies of their fellow offshores have indicated that sharks may indeed be part of their regular diets, but perhaps what makes Port and Starboard so exceptional is that they have come inshore to hunt- and hunt the most fearsome of them all at that. Reports of illegal shooting of orcas from longline trawlers that see them as competition, as well as the accompanying overfishing of traditional food sources, may well have played a part in the disruptive inshore migration of Port and Starboard. And though they had already left a trail of destruction behind them in that week in May 2017, they weren’t going anywhere just yet.       

As the Dyer Island team stood around the whitened corpse on Pearly Beach, they knew from the stark injuries that a necropsy would not be necessary to determine the cause of death. It was the 24th of June and after a month and a half of reprieve, these ghostly remains told Alison Towner that the shark hunting had recommenced, and with great fervour. This male specimen, over 4 metres in length, had been extensively torn apart. As expected by now the liver was gone, but along with it the stomach and the testes. The absent reproductive glands symbolised the growing threat to an already vulnerable population. It takes a terribly long time for white sharks to reach sexual maturity and here was a third mature adult in only a few weeks brutally ejected from the gene pool. As she mourned this concerning loss, Alison Towner’s attention shifted to the ocean, where some movement had caught her eye. As if there had ever been any doubt, there out on the backline of the surf, she saw two drooping fins playing amongst the waves.

The death and mutilation of the white shark in June was the 4th confirmed orca predation in Gansbaai and marked a tipping point for the region’s population, who promptly vacated the area. This had occurred to some extent after each of the discoveries of cadavers. After the arrival of Port and Starboard and the first dead shark on the 9th of February there had been no sign of any white sharks from the tour boats for two full weeks. In retrospect, many in the local industry, thinking back to a painful absence of white sharks in January and February 2016, wondered if that had also been caused by the pair Alison Towner, only half-joking, called ‘the two terrorists’. The pattern now looked familiar. And although no bodies had been found back then, without a liver they would likely have sunk quickly, raising the morbid question of how many others could lie wrecked on the seafloor in Gansbaai.

However from June 2017 a more significant and enduring change got underway and not a single great white was seen for more than fifty days following the white cadaver on Pearly Beach. If the importance of the great white shark in Gansbaai had become taken for granted, their prolonged absence firmly reminded everyone of it. From a purely economic point of view the shark tourism industry had become indispensable, creating employment and drawing large amounts of tourists to an otherwise peripheral town. From a study in 2003, shark tourism in Gansbaai had attracted 30,000 cage divers that year and generated over $4 million dollars in revenue.

Other factors had already been pushing a decline in the numbers of white sharks, but it was certain the orca invasion had accelerated this downward slide drastically. This trend had been observed following the 1997 incident at the Farallon’s where the island was deserted for the rest of the shark season that year. Two theories seek to explain how this flight response is initiated. One asserts that when one of the species is killed, chemicals from the slaughter and decomposition warns other sharks that the area is not safe. A second theory is that with their prodigious sense of smell- something which orcas lack completely- great whites can detect the presence of their tormentors and take that as a cue to flee. It is entirely possible that these factors work in tandem, or even that something else is involved that isn’t yet fully understood. Sound frequencies may also play a part. In the past decade shark deterrent projects have trialled devices for swimmers that emit orca calls, continuing research begun in the 1970s. However, in spite of some promising signs none have so far managed to emulate the terrifying effect of real orcas.  

Although a head-to-head between an orca and a great white has a kind of fantasy clash of the titans appeal to it, like lion vs tiger, in reality it is no simply no contest. Great whites are often classified as apex predators in areas where they abound given their explosive power and supreme bite, but all sea creatures, even the mighty blue whale, live under the dominion of the whims of orcas. Aptly called ‘the wolves of the sea’, their combination of size, speed, intelligence and most importantly, their ability to coordinate their activities in a pod, gives them an advantage over any opponent. Any animal that becomes part of their diet has to like salmon, take the hit, or like sharks, hide away until the hunting band passes through. But with ever-dwindling resources being fought over, how many species might Orca Orcinus permanently consign to the kingdom of the dead?  

Following the 2015 attack witnessed by those onboard the Shark Warrior, the entire great white population left the Neptune Islands almost instantly- and stayed away for eleven weeks. This had such an immediate, heavy impact on tour operators that groups lobbied the government to expand the range of permits to try to cover the white shark exodus. On the 25th of April 2015 when surfer Chris Blowes had his leg bitten clean off by a massive great white at Fishery Bay, South Australia, it was even suggested by some that it was due to the orcas starving the sharks of their food and territory in the nearby Neptune’s. While the situation at the Islands was in the end only temporary, it showed how unstable the white shark tourism industry was without white sharks- a snapshot of what would later happen for a much longer period in Gansbaai. A Neptune Island cage tour operator at the time, Matt Waller, said ‘The impact on Port Lincoln of this particular event is ongoing and it's not just Adventure Bay Charters, or one of the other shark cage diving operators- it's the bus companies, the maintenance guys, the caterers, the hotels, the accommodation and the taxis’. Since 2017, this precariousness has become a reality of life in Gansbaai.

And it’s not just the people of Gansbaai that are missing the great whites. Their periodic absences have knocked the local ecosystem off balance, affecting one already endangered species in particular- African penguins. These rare birds who live in a colony on Dyer Island have been indirect victims of the white shark exodus in quite a gory and unexpected way. Without the top predators to patrol the waters around the island, the cape fur seals have the run of the place- which is bad news for the penguins. As they return from fishing trips, bull seals are free to ambush and kill their much feebler neighbours with ease. The purpose of this surprising turn is a handy meal- but they are not particularly interested in penguin flesh- the objective is to rip apart their victims’ stomachs to rob them of their hard-earned catch.

On Thursday, October 22nd 2021, De Wet Du Toit waded into the chilly waters of Gansbaai, and in only togs and a pair of goggles, swam in the direction of Dyer Island and Shark Alley. In the days leading up to the swim, Du Toit had had to fight against fearful imaginings to psyche himself up for it. Many considered what he was doing suicidal but he was on a mission and had a point to prove. When he returned an hour and a half later, his hands were held aloft in triumph. De Wet Du Toit had just become the first person to complete the open water swim to Dyer Island and back, a total of 7.7 kilometres. The South African conservationist acknowledged that you’d have needed a death wish to attempt it only ten years earlier- but that was exactly the point he wanted to make.

Du Toit’s mission was to highlight the disappearance of white sharks from the Western Cape due to human neglect and hypocrisy. Recording the feat as part of The Last Shark Documentary he made an impassioned plea for the removal of the gillnets of Kwa-Zulu Natal province in the Eastern Cape. These nets killed over 1,000 white sharks between 1976 and 2008 and continue to devastate their population- an absurd situation, conversationists claim, when viewed in light of the species’ official protection under South African law. Unreported bycatch of these protected sharks, overfishing of their prey and illegal poaching all add to the pressure. A study by Stellenbosch University, completed in 2016, was already sounding the alarm, estimating that a total of possibly only 350 to 520 great whites were left in the country’s oceans and that such a small gene pool may not be sufficient to recover, or even sustain it.  

Shark net deaths and overfishing have continued to chip away at the great white population of South Africa’s Gansbaai, which was once thought to hold the world’s densest concentration of the mighty beasts. But as harmful as these two factors are, a larger shadow, or rather two shadows, hang like a grim reaper over the region’s white sharks. On the Marine Dynamics shark tour website the main page holds a disclaimer that reads ‘Great White Shark behaviour is less predictable post orca predation in 2017’. Next to it is a sign for a 40% off discount. In the good times a trip without a white shark would lead to hand-out vouchers for another. Now bronze whaler sharks are often the main draw in place of the whites, whose appearances can never be guaranteed anymore. On July 4th 2020, two days after Port and Starboard returned to the area, another white shark with an acoustic tracker was found stripped of its liver. When boat tours began again in September, though the plentiful bronze whaler sharks gave passengers something to talk about, a white shark was not seen again until the beginning of November.

Each time it seems as if their absence grows longer. In June 2021, Marine Dynamics’ boat had been visited by several white sharks virtually every day- right up until the depressingly familiar discovery of yet another eliverated corpse. Alison Towner and her colleagues keep a regular diary on the Marine Dynamics’ website where they log their trips and the creatures they encounter. And as of October 28th 2021, their boats are still yet to see a white shark back in Gansbaai. For the people of the one-time white shark capital of the world, they are, like the sharks, Port and Starboard, and all other creatures that live there, trying their best to survive in an increasingly unpredictable and volatile environment.