How to Stay Calm in Rough Seas Filled with Large Sharks

Black tip reef shark

I’ve been scuba diving for about 20 years. Most of my dives have been in the calm, tropical waters of the Caribbean, on the massive reef running alongside the coast of the Yucatan peninsula near Cozumel, Mexico.

For several years I made an annual dive trip and fell in love with Cozumel and the Palancar Reef. Ideal for diving. Visibility for a hundred feet. A full rainbow of colorful coral and fish, and warm, relaxing water. Currents can be strong but they’re usually steady. And in my experience, the sharks have been small – mostly nurse sharks no more than four feet in length, and keeping their distance.

On Thanksgiving Day of 2021, I got a different diving perspective when I dived a couple of tanks with my son, Elliot, off the coast of Big Pine Key, Florida. We boated about an hour south from land to check out the Looe Key Reef. The sun was shining but the wind was blowing, making for a rough, undulating, bucking ride out to the dive site on our 18-foot catamaran-style boat.

The water’s surface was frothy and choppy as we dropped the six feet into the sea off the side of the boat and did our checks before submerging. More challenging, the strong current was fitful, like the wind. Strong splashy waves followed by a couple of weak laps, so that you let down your guard a bit. Then another, stronger wave splashing seawater in your face.

Salt water slopped into our eyes and noses as we checked on each other, our heads bobbing just above the surface. It was time to get down. We bit on our regulators, took a couple breaths of air-gas mixture, then deflated our buoyancy compensator vests and descended under water.

As we dropped to 10 feet, then 20, clearing our ear pressure, the surface current eased and we got a clear view of the billions of gallons of ocean spreading another 20 feet beneath us. This would not be a particularly deep dive, 40 feet at the deepest. But that’s plenty of depth in which to float and flit along with the fish.

The Largest Shark I’ve Ever Seen

After about 10 minutes of floating and swimming through and over coral mounds, enjoying the plethora of vivid colors and fish – parrot fish, lion fish, barracudas, groupers – I spotted the largest shark I’d ever seen while diving. He or she circled about 20 feet away. Nurse shark, we figured, but larger than those I was used to seeing in Mexico. This one at least 6 feet.

Our shark maintained its perimeter but continued circling, a large 180 around us. I kept my eye on it, not because I was alarmed or worried about an unlikely attack, but because I was mesmerized. These ancient creatures are the kings of the sea. They’ve adapted over 450 million years to become a relatively intelligent predator at the top of the food chain. And as long as you don’t threaten them or their offspring, they are not likely to attack.

We floated for a while longer when Elliot pointed off to our 3 o’clock. I looked and peered through the dim haze of water and saw nothing. I looked back at Elliot and he pointed again. Again I looked and saw nothing. I gave him a big shrug, letting go of the moment. We turned and continued swimming.

Then I saw it. At least eight feet long. And fat. About five feet below me, a Black Tip Reef shark (we determined this later). It was hovering against the sea bottom, then suddenly curled on itself and swam away from us.

Now I got it. He was pointing at this sizable shark. And despite the unlikelihood of a shark attack on a diver, I would not have come so nonchalantly close to this beast if I had seen it. One doesn’t want to spook them.

Astronomical Odds

A few statistics learned over the years helped me stay calm so close to a shark that outweighed me by more than 150 pounds.

For one thing, even if a shark decides to come after you, there’s little you can do to avoid it if you’re in open water. It definitely won’t help you to panic and try to swim away, that may be the worst thing you can do because it might prompt the shark to pursue. In the event a shark does show signs of aggression, it’s better to hold still and maintain eye contact, or better yet, start swimming toward it. At that point it will likely swim away.

More importantly: A scuba diver’s chance of getting bitten by a shark is one in 136 million. It almost never happens. Sharks are curious to check out divers, but once they see these floating, bubbling animals they move on to less threatening prey.

Sharks primarily eat smaller fish and invertebrates. Some larger sharks may prey on seals, sea lions and other mammals. In other words, sharks don’t want a fight, and they’re not looking to eat humans.

Surfers, and to a lesser extent, snorkelers, are more likely to be attacked by a shark because the shark mistakes these surface splashing creatures for seals, one of their favorite meals. Still, the odds of anyone getting attacked by a shark remain low – about one in 17 million. And we humans are much more likely to die of heart disease (one in five), cancer (one in seven) or stroke (one in 24) than from a shark attack.

Comforting, I know.

A perfect Thanksgiving sea rainbow spotted on our way back from diving.

A Long, Wet Slog

I regard encounters with sharks as I do run ins with bears, snakes, moose, drug kingpins and other predatory animals. Keep your head down and move on. Most likely, these animals are not interested in attacking you unless they are threatened.

A while after our shark encounter, Elliot and I emerged on the surface and spotted our boat a good five hundred feet in the distance. We had a long, slow swim against the current to get back, and our air was running short.

Back on the boat, headed for shore, we agreed: that last slog to the boat, fighting the strong current the whole way, was more harrowing than anything we saw under water…including 8-foot sharks.

A Road Trip to Florida

A landscape view of the sea and a small island from Rowell's Waterfront Park, Key Largo, Fla

I’m always up for a road trip. There’s no feeling quite like hitting the open road in a car, the excitement of rolling miles away, the escape out of town, the change of perspective, music playing, scenery changing and open, endless road stretched out in front of you. There’s something about a road trip that inspires contemplation and a fresh view on life.

Now, some people might not label a road trip to Florida as much of an adventure. And, relatively speaking, it’s not that exotic.

Still, it checks the boxes for my definition of adventure: it’s an activity out of the ordinary; it holds a degree of risk (if you’ve driven on the Florida freeways, you know what I’m talking about; it certainly involves movement, literally in this case; and it includes a modicum of overcoming challenge.

Like some of the best adventures, my most recent road trip to Florida was borne out of necessity and urgency. My son, Elliot, who lives and works in Key Largo, was the victim of a hit-and-run rear-end car accident (his car was rear-ended; see above re: Florida drivers). As an unfortunate result, his old car was totaled; that is, not worth the expense of the body work it would take to fix it. So he needed a car, and his mother happened to be considering buying a new car anyway. So I volunteered to drive her Nissan down to Florida for Elliot to use.

This was an impromptu trip, and I opted not to take time away from work in order to do it. That meant I had very little time for the trip. Now, From Western Massachusetts, where I live, to Key Largo, at the very bottom of the state just where the string of keys begins, is about 1,600 miles. At a good pace, you’re talking about 24 hours of driving.

To avoid heavy Northeast traffic, I opted to leave at 7:30 p.m. on a Friday and drive through the night. It was a good move, as I whizzed through New York City and New Jersey, buzzed by Philadelphia, and cruised along the Washington, D.C. beltway, I-495. The drawback of night driving is the sacrifice of any scenery. It’s just you and the dark highway with shadows of trees and the moon’s glow keeping you company.

I crossed the border from Virginia into North Carolina at around 5 a.m., ready for a nap. I pulled into the first rest area I saw. Thankfully, I was piloting an SUV that had plenty of stretch-out room in the back, and I came prepared with my well-used sleep pad and sleeping bag. Slumber came quickly and lasted a solid hour and a half, all I needed to invigorate more hours on the road.

Six more hours of friendly, rural daylight driving (minus gas and food stops) brought me to the Georgia border with Florida, and a sign that let me know, to my disappointment, that I still had six more hours to go to the keys. Florida is a long, flat state.

The details of driving through Florida are murky. At some point along these straight, flat roads shooting due south, you glaze over the reedy, swampy inlets of swamp. Now and then the view is gorgeous, like when you catch the open sea off to the left and it beckons you. But you don’t want to become too enamored with these drivers speeding dangerously past at 90 miles per hour.

I navigated through Miami highways in mid-evening, hopped happily onto Route 1 out to the keys, and arrived at my son’s place in Key Largo around 9 p.m. Exhausted, but, thanks to caffeine, ready to take him out for a beer at his choice of venue.

I spent Sunday with Elliot and flew back Monday. A compact adventure, and mission accomplished.

Along the way I learned a few things, as one always does during adventures big and small. I learned that, for me, it doesn’t matter what mode of transportation I’m using to go from one place to another. Car, truck, bike, walking, hiking, running, boating. It’s all good. The movement is the key factor, and for some reason I am happiest when I’m moving. I can’t be the only one. I’ll continue to study this phenomenon and write more about it.

I also relearned, as I do every time I travel across this country, that the United States is diverse, often beautiful, and vast. One of my favorite aspects of traveling is observing the gradual and sudden changes in terrain, landscape and culture. Seeing how and where people live.

I returned from my road trip to Florida with freshened perspective, renewed energy and a few memories. That’s why we take adventures.