Purple Smudge

The voice of the spotter pilot, Wayne Davis, crackled over the speakers of the boat. He could see the shark clearly from the air. Actually he could see a shark when it was within 18ft of the water’s surface. Which is pretty remarkable considering the murkiness of the waters off Cape Cod.

Looking down all I could see was the shadow of our boat on the opaque water. Earlier we had been able to see plankton, ethereally moving through the water, glowing blue. Now though, nothing. It was like trying to look through something solid. No matter how hard I strained my eyes, all I saw was green.

Wayne followed the shark, circling up in the clouds. He told the Captain exactly where to move the boat, telling him which direction to turn towards, how many boat lengths forward to go, and when to stop. The Captain followed his lead, expertly maneuvering the whale watching boat through the shallow water.


We were only 50 ft from shore, and according to Wayne, we were in the right spot. If we stayed put the shark would swim right by us. So we waited.

My heart raced. I leaned over the side of the boat, scanning the water below me for any signs of the shark. There were people all around me, lining the railings of the boat, waiting anxiously for the shark to appear.

Wayne’s voice had been replaced by that of scientist Megan Winton. She stood on the bow of the boat, sharing shark facts with us, waiting like the rest of us for the shark to come into view. And then it did. We couldn’t see it yet, but Megan could.

She called out the white shark’s movements like a sports announcer would an exciting play. I hung onto her every word, hoping the next one would mean that shark was near me. The closer it got to the boat the more excited I became.

The shark was very close now. It was coming from the left side of the boat and was going to swim right across the bow. Any minute we would all be able to see it. Suddenly there was a collective gasp from the left side of the boat. They could see the shark.

I fought the urge to run to the other side of the boat, to push my way through the crowd to catch a glimpse of the shark. It was coming my way. I just had to be patient, to wait just a few minutes longer, minutes that felt like hours

Photo by Atlantic White Shark Conservancy

Photo by Atlantic White Shark Conservancy

Then the people around me began to yell and point. I followed their fingers and there it was. A shadow moving through the water. “It looks like a purple smudge” Megan had told us, and she was right. As the shark swam by its outline became a little clearer. I could even make out its dorsal fin.

I couldn’t stop smiling. It was a white shark. It was incredible.

Photo by Lisa Hughes

Photo by Lisa Hughes


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