The shampoo bottle skittered away from my grasp and looped around the shower tray for the umpteenth time. I had never taken sea sickness medication, but I was beginning to think perhaps now might be a good time to start. I was aboard the Southern Sport, leaving behind the port of Ensenada, Mexico and with it the calm of All Saints Bay, and was now several hours into the journey heading south-west into the north Pacific.



After around 24 hours the volcanic rocks of Guadalupe Island appeared on the horizon. Well known as a white shark aggregation site, the island is a shark biologist’s idea of paradise. I hasten to add that such idyllic surroundings are not part of my day-to-day routine.

The volcanic Guadalupe Island. Photograph: Lauren Smith

Ordinarily, I can be found in green water of around 9°C (12°C if I’m lucky) with an air temperature to match, along the Moray Firth coastline in the north-east of Scotland. It’s not an area you would necessarily associate with sharks; however, it was at Aberdeen University that I undertook my doctorate, which focused on determining how sharks perceive changes in pressure. Among other things, I spent my doctoral years deploying data storage tags on juvenile sharks, examining diel and tidal rhythms and using acoustic tracking to determine use of home ranges and how these were affected by individual preference and predator avoidance. It was during this time that my interest in sharks turned into an all-consuming passion (others might say obsession).

Since then, I have worked on various aspects of shark biology and conservation, and have published papers on the shark immune system, shark parasites and the elasmobranch electrosensory system. Most of my work has focused on the humble small-spotted catshark (also known as the dogfish), a small, sedate coastal species that maxes out lengthwise at around one metre. As wonderful as this species is, from time to time I go off in search of larger species in warmer waters, sometimes to carry out research and other times purely to indulge myself. This has led to trips to the Bahamas, Hawaii, Philippines, Palau and the Azores, to dive with great hammerheads, bulls, tigers, lemons, nurse, grey reef, blacktips, blue sharks and manta rays, to name a few!

This trip to Guadalupe Island was primarily for fun. I wanted to get some good photographs, observe white shark behaviour, and to see how the shark tourism here was managed. This particular excursion had been organised by Big Fish Expeditions, owned and operated by Andy Murch. I had chosen both this company and the location not only for the likelihood of sharks in good numbers, but also for the assurance of responsible shark diving operations. Restrictions are in place for the number of boats (just six) allowed on site at any one time and daily visits from fisheries scientists (who come aboard to ensure you are observing good diving practices) are routine.

It is, of course, essential that shark tourism is responsible. If you’re thinking of swimming with sharks, you need to look for companies who can reassure you about the following points. Firstly, ensuring that the sharks are not harmed. This means that their natural behaviour is not heavily impacted upon by divers and the habitat location is not affected or altered. There should also be restrictions on the number of people in the water at any one time, with a respectful distance maintained between divers and sharks. Human-shark interaction should be via a camera lens only, with no physical interaction allowed.

Recognising the economic importance of shark tourism is crucial given the current risk of extinction to the world’s sharks and ray species. In 2014, a paper by Nicolas Dulvy and collaborators outlined their work with more than 300 scientists around the world to assess the conservation status of all known cartilaginous species: the chondrichthyes, all 1,041 of them. Based on this, they estimate that one in four of these species are threatened with extinction, mainly as a result of overfishing. Moreover, only 389 of these species (37.4%) are considered to be safe from extinction: the lowest fraction among all vertebrate groups studied to date. When you consider that a 2013 report concluded that within the next 20 years shark tourism could generate more than 780 million US dollars per year in tourist expenditures around the world. By comparison, the landed value of global shark fisheries in 2013 was around 630 million USD, a figure which has been in decline for the past decade.

White sharks such as the ones I had come to Guadalupe Island to observe are considered vulnerable to extinction by the International Union Conservation Nature. In 2003 a study by Julia Baum and fellow researchers suggested a 79% decline in abundance in the north west Atlantic alone. The species is protected off South Africa, the Maldives, Australia, the US Atlantic Seaboard and Gulf Coast and in the majority of the Mediterranean. However, enforcement of this protection, as with all species, can be weak and therefore of limited effectiveness, particularly for such a highly migratory species.

A shark seen through the crystal-clear waters of Guadalupe. Photograph: Lauren Smith

We were to anchor in the north-east bay of Guadalupe Island in the shallowest area, with depths of around 90m. The rest of the island drops off to depths in excess of 3500m. The warmer southern currents and the northern upwelling mean that a stack of nutrients enrich the body of water surrounding the island, as well as there being an abundance of pelagic fish species. The island serves as a haul-out and pupping site for the northern elephant seal, the Guadalupe fur seal and the Californian sea lion.

White sharks are known to feed on both fish and marine mammals, with dietary shifts occurring with the age and size of the shark, something which is reflected in their dentition. Juveniles have narrower pointy teeth with cusplets (small nodules either side of the main body of the tooth), ideal for gripping fish prey. Mature individuals have broad triangular serrated teeth with no cusplets, for eating much larger prey such as seals and other mammals.

White sharks group and forage around Guadalupe Island from July through to February every year. Unlike other well known sites such as South Africa, Australia and New Zealand, the waters surrounding Guadalupe were practically crystal clear, with visibility typically ranging from an incredible 20-45m. And yet, despite this theoretical perfection, as we prepared to drop anchor I was gripped by a familiar mix of anxiety and desperation. What if the sharks aren’t here this year? What if my camera housing floods? What if my memory card corrupts? I want to get in the water now!

To avoid making a complete and utter nuisance of myself, I retreated to the top deck, camera in hand, whilst the anchor was dropped and the cages lowered. Within minutes I spotted my first white shark cruising passed the boat. I took a few shots during a cacophony of cries of “Tiburón!” ( “shark!”) from the crew and the bellows of male elephant seals echoing around the bay.

A great white shark, as seen from the boat. Photograph: Lauren Smith

I clambered into the diving cage, wondering if this precaution was entirely necessary. I have dived with a number of different species in the wild without any protection, and all of these came with their own “human interaction” statistics. However, I had to acknowledge the isolated nature of the dive site, and it goes without saying that any negative interaction between a diver and a white shark (even if instigated by the diver) would result in a media frenzy, doing little to raise the profile of sharks amongst the public.

One of the crew handed me my camera and I sank to the bottom of the cage. I only had to wait a matter of seconds for a white shark to hove into view and from there on in the action was relentless! It was truly a shark biologist and photographer’s dream: three entire days of sharks. At one point we had eight sharks, all within view; some sharks would hang around and check us out for a couple of hours, others would stay with us from sunrise to sunset, even accompanying us deeper in a submerged cage. One shark didn’t even bother making a pass at the bait, preferring instead to eyeball the strange neoprene-clad animals in the cage.

Lauren Smith with a curious shark Photograph: Gordon Diack/Lauren Smith

Throughout our dives we were privy to lesser-seen behavioural interactions between the sharks. For example, when two sharks approached each other head on, the smaller would give way. If already positioned side-on, they would size each other up, and again the smaller and less dominant individual would veer off. Although this was interesting, my favourite behaviour by far was when a shark - how shall I say this? - expelled its waste directly in front of us. This involved an astounding amount of drama: jaw gaping, tail thrashing, body convulsing; so much so that I became completely and utterly distracted and failed to photograph this momentous event!

Everything about these animals fascinated me: their curiosity, speed, size, behaviours towards one another; their sheer presence blew me away. I had always held back from adding the word “great” to their name before; I thought it somehow unfair to the 500 other species of shark. Not any more. This trip has allowed me to fully comprehend the greatness of the white shark.