Internationally Independent

With more than two hours before the sun was to rise, Toukam and I awoke and hurriedly prepared ourselves for a day on the high seas. At 6AM, we started the 45 minute drive to Simons Town, which lies on the Cape Peninsula. The drive was peaceful, and the lack of other cars on the road made for smooth driving that allowed us to comfortably greet Independence Day.

Arriving in Simons Town, we had pre-dawn glimpses of quaint shops and a naval base before parking on Wharf Drive and walking to the end of the jetty where Blue Pointer II, our cruising yawl, sat. Rob, our skipper for the day, cheerily greeted us and helped us onto the swaying vessel, where we did our best to greet the darkened faces of the crew and our fellow shipmates. The crew wasted no time starting up the engines and darting at top speed out of the harbor, past the lighthouse, and into the Homeric wine dark sea. Our destination was Seal Island, a tiny piece of exposed rock in the middle of False Bay, the expanse of water between the Cape Peninsula and the mainland.

The island is so named because on top of the island and its frothy shores lie hundreds, if not thousands, of seals and their avionic friends. They seem to enjoy their isolated getaway, but it comes with its downsides. From dawn until dusk massive great white sharks circle the island, keeping their eyes out for a stray seal or two. Once sighted, the sharks charge at full force towards their prey, frequently launching their whole bodies out of the water, preferably with a seal in their jaws. If they don't act quickly, though, the seal has a chance to escape and so ensues a chase that thrills and entertains the foreigners on the boats surrounding the island.

The Rosy-Fingered Dawn

We arrived just as the rosy-fingered dawn was beginning and trolled around for about an hour and a half, seeing perhaps three shark attacks. As it became apparent that the sharks were not feeling very lively on this particular Independence Day, our guides employed the use of a creatively shaped wet suit. They attached the seal-reminiscent piece of neoprene to a fishing line and let it drag behind the boat for the remainder of our time. Sadly, the sharks must have been extra alert because nothing went in for the kill.

Eventually we slowed and let the anchor down about 200 yards from the island. This is where it started to get interesting. The crew untied the large, 8 foot tall cube of metal grating from the back of the boat and let it splash into the dark waters. The buoys did their job and the cage was successfully maneuvered to the side of the boat. Next, they tied some rather large pieces of fish to a line and let it float in the water while filling a bucket up with water mixed with fish pieces, letting it splash into the water intermittently. Finally, they let another, less sophisticated seal decoy float in the water.

The Cage

To make sure that we weren't getting our hoped up, Rob informed us that great whites tend to come to the boat in "approximately 5 minutes to 5 days" from the chum being put into the water. Luckily for us, we were closer to the 5 minutes side. We saw the boat next to us attract a shark and after about an hour we got our own friends to play with. One of them was really taken by our seal decoy and even took a bite out of it, leaving the tail for us to marvel at. The chum had worked its magic and the first pair to enter the tank, a high school aged brother and sister from Alberta, donned their charter-provided wet suits, gloves, masks, and boots and jumped into the cage.

Shark!

The process of the cage would be that once there were two people in it, one man would manage the bait line, pulling it closer to the boat to lure the shark towards the cage, while another would keep his eyes out for our carnivorous subjects to alert the divers when to hold their breath and dive for a look and where those of us on the boat could see the shark. It was slow going at first, but definitely thrilling. The sharks ranged from about 12 feet in length to nearly 20. Some would come up only for a quick look at what we had to offer while others would make multiple passes at the the boat in valiant attempts to outsmart the bait man.

As the next two pairings, a father and son from Cape Town and another duo from Alberta, got into the cage the sea started to calm, allowing the boat's sways to not be as seasickness-inducing. The sun was out, and a cool breeze kept the climate perfect for shark viewing. Toukam and I entertained ourselves with surface viewing and picture taking, but soon we felt the urge to go and get to know our guests. Rob assigned us some gear and after some rather unbalanced dressing we were ready to get up close and personal with those monsters of the deep.

The Cage Experience

Toukam and I Suited Up

I had been given an already wet wetsuit and therefore was not too shocked by the cold water as I climbed into the cage. At first, I was worried that we wouldn't get the chance to see many sharks, but I was pleasantly surprised when rather quickly I heard Rob call out that there was one coming. I took a deep breath and submerged myself at the bottom of the cage, grasping onto the metal bars to keep me under. As I peered through the murky water, I got my first glimpse of the shark as its gigantic but graceful body glided past the bait.

The first pass was not very close to the cage, but soon after I surfaced I was once again instructed to go under. This time the shark became a little more interested in the bait, taking a lunge at it as the bait man tried to get it out of reach. Seeing the jaws of the beast open and its eyes roll back, doing what it does best in the natural world, was inspiring. Though it would have been terrifying without the cage, the metal bars in front of me seemed to bar the passage of fear as efficiently as it did the intrusion of a shark. Instead of panic, I felt awe for the huge beast that sailed out into the sea.

Thankfully, it returned and proceeded to make about five more passes, coming closer and closer to the cage each time. A couple times it was so close that I could have easily reached through the bars and grabbed its fin. Luckily, my adventurous spirit was kept at bay and I contented myself with a more casual observation. Nearly 20 minutes after getting into the cage, I reluctantly lifted myself out and back onto the deck. I had definitely gotten my money's worth.

Impersonating the Shark After the Dive

For the next two hours or so, I walked around the boat, enjoying each new pass that the sharks made at the boat. There were a bunch of passengers left to dive, including a university lecturer from Australia, some Irishmen, and a Brit. Eventually, after putting another batch of chum into the water and saying goodbye to our newly made friends, we found ourselves speeding once again along the now glassy sea under the one o'clock sun. As we neared the harbor, we passed by South Africans in their sailboats as well as the pride of the South African navy.

Back on solid land, Toukam and I filled our empty stomachs at the Salty Sea Dog, a comfortable and sassily-decorated fish and chips joint on the wharf. It was a cheap and delicious meal, and we left feeling like we had experienced the best of Simons Town. The drive home was a little warm, but it was eased by the great views and energizing music of Justice. We made it back to the apartment at about three and spent the next couple hours doing a little work and dozing off.

After a visit to the internet cafe, we went to dinner at what I thought would be the most appropriate dining establishment for the 4th. It's called Spur, and it's a South African chain of restaurants that have the oddly specific theme of Native Americans. All of their materials bear the insignia of an Indian chief, complete with feather headdress. Inside, the menus contain mildly offensive but hilariously stereotypical stories about chiefs and braves, while also projecting the feeling of a family-friendly steakhouse. I've always been a connoisseur of all things that represent a foreign country's imitation of the States, so I found this especially hilarious.

The Restaurant

We sat down at the booth table overlooking the quiet street below and reviewed the menu of burgers, steak, ribs, and other "Native American food." Determined to have the most American meal possible to make up for not having even a single interaction with an American all day, I got buffalo wings and a cheeseburger, with classic Coca Cola to wash it down. The wings came and were a fantastic replication of the American original, which brought joy to my red white and blue heart. However, when my double "cheeseburger" arrived, I realized that it can never be this easy to replace the States.

What faced me when the waiter served me was a hamburger bun with each of the two sides faced up and topped with a hamburger patty, which was positively drenched with what can only be described as watered down nacho cheese sauce. I marveled at the sheer cultural disconnect that had just occurred. In the place of what should have been a sesame bun filled with a hamburger patty, slightly melted piece of cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, and ketchup there stood an inconceivable mess of bread and patty, swimming in a nearly inedible cheesy sauce. Luckily, it was made more acceptable by my forcible removing of some of the sauce. It was the saddest cheeseburger I have ever witnessed. The french fries, however, redeemed the entree as much as a side dish can for such a meal.

The "Burger"

Slightly traumatized by such a misadventure, I hoped and prayed that my dessert would do my home justice. In fact, my chocolate malt milkshake did that and more. It was a perfectly textured mix of solid and liquid that went smoothly, albeit quickly, down my throat. With such a victorious finale to my attempt at recreating 4th of July eating I left Spur, knowing that I would most likely never return but having had a thoroughly enjoyable time complete with in-seat grooving to "Dancing Queen" as it blasted over the speakers.

In summary, I have to say that this, the Independence Day of 2009, stands out as one of the most successful to date. I swam with one of the world's fiercest predators, enjoyed an exotic locale, and had a halfway decent American meal to top it all off. My sincerest hope, Reader, is that you had such a high quality holiday. May God bless you, and may He bless our great country.