The Admiral and the Shark at Leven Point
The Admiral and the Shark at Leven Point: I met three crazies on this early 90’s trip to Vidal. Diving mate Rick (also crazy) and I had headed north to dive the fish blue waters of the Natal North Coast.
Cape Vidal
We were allowed to camp. We were allowed to drive along the pristine beach highway to Leven Point (turtles and all). But. We were not allowed to catch crayfish. Or shoot any reefies. Trade-off accepted. But it was tough with all those tempting rock salmon swimming around and all over the place!
It’s far to Leven Point. It’s a lot more than eleven kilometres. Which is how everyone pronounced the place back then. Eleven Point hahaha. So about halfway back after an early dive, coming out of the sun, unbelieving, I see some dude swimming in through the waves. So I put my indicators on and found a parking quick.
Pete Kennedy and Tony Tomkinson
This is how I met Pete Kennedy. A formidable diver and character. He was out the back on his girlfriend’s Dad’s boat in about 45m. Fishing for sailfish. The Dad was Tony Tomkinson – the legendary professional hunter. Well, they couldn’t agree on something. Pete can be disagreeable. So could Tony as I found out with time. Two extraordinarily headstrong characters. Pete just said cheers to Tony. Jumped off the boat and into the azure. And swam the 5 kilometres back to the beach. Where he coincidentally met up with us. He was gonna have to walk the 10kms or so further, in his wetsuit, to get back to camp and his girlfriend! After quick introductions…Pete jumped in the back and through the sunroof, he explained how he got there. We chatted furiously after that. I became great friends with both of these guys after this weekend.
Then, a dude in a new red Toyota Venture rocked into camp later that day. He was also shooting fish. He was on his pat malone. Very cool, calm and collected. From Cape Town. And he comfortably joined our fire. He set up camp next to us. We chatted up storms of mosquitoes. These were different times. It was really hard to find someone to dive with back then. When we did meet up, it was always gonna be in a campsite like Cape Vidal.
Under the stars and around the fire we drank beer and rum. We ate steak from the Cape. Woody, our new friend had brought chunks of fillet with him all the way. They had to be eaten since there was no power here. He asked if we could dive together the next day. He confided in me that he had not yet encountered a shark underwater, yet. But that he really wanted to. I laughed to him that we would definitely be diving with sharks in the morning.
Admiral Woody Woodburne
Eventually we spoke work. I was running The Sardine News as an A3 tabloid. And selling Mydos for Brian Davey. I am still running The Sardine News. And selling Mydos. Over thirty years later. I had told him my story. Rick explained his planned protest and trajectory away from South Africa to the UK. And so we asked Woody for his story. Says he works for the SA Navy. Drives a submarine. Let me introduce to you, Vice Admiral Lambert Jackson ‘Woody’ Woodburne. The chief of the navy at that very moment. But sans uniform. Medals for leadership and initiative in combat and all. Wetsuit instead!
Early the next typically glorious morning, this unlikely four-ball loaded their gear up into the back of my old Hilux. We hit the beach in the crisp early offshore of the north coast. It is breathtakingly beautiful. Blue being the colour of everything to us stoked spearos. So clean! We don’t talk much on the way there. Nerves. Leven is hardly a point. But it has two lines of reef. One shallow. One deep. We arrived to nobody but the sun and the terns. After a quick but compulsory visit back over the dune to the bush, we calmed our nerves by chatting as we geared up. The usual briefing about the sharks for Woody. “It’s zambies that we are worried about”. I never believed in whites at this point in my life. It was just easier like that. “There are plenty raggies and blacktips. But they are only gonna bite your fish. That stupid zambie will take you out if you are not looking. Eyes peeled and look around you every few seconds.”
It’s the most rewarding baptism ever entering Mother Ocean up here at Leven Point – swimming out through the brilliant white foaming surf and into the vaste expanse of indigo blue. Never-ending intrigue, wonder – and no end to the challenges coming up. Adrenalin firing, we got to the first ledge. Pete was gone immediately. This is how he dives. On his own, but close enough to listen for shouting. Rick balanced off to one side. And the Admiral and I took a course heading up the middle of the reef, into the current, heading north to where the reserve starts. Not allowed in there. And yes, back then, the green bakkies of the Natal Parks Board, held up the law. We all had licenses.
Shark
The first fish was a Natal Snoek aka Queen Mackerel. It came past us at high speed. Instinct told me to turn around and see what was chasing it. Bang! Here is the first damn zambie of the dive. It hasn’t been a minute. And yes, he was focused on that snoek. But when he found us, he immediately started his BS. He swaggered round and round us. Pectorals down. In vague figures of eight. He was in front of us one second, disappeared, and in another second he was behind us.
I did not want Admiral Woody Woodburne to see me blow a sharks head right off with my .38 Special powerhead. Tucked in my wetsuit sleeve. I had two of them. I loaded one onto one of my guns. The weirdest thing happens when you put a powerhead on. Your demeanour changes. Now you need to set up a decent shot. The shark senses this change. And invariably leaves town. This one did just that.
After an hour, we still hadn’t shot a fish. It’s better at Leven to shoot carefully or the sharks will get your fish. Plus its like an aquarium down there. So much to see and do. A huge mamma raggie swam up the reef. 4 Metres plus and round as a wine barrel. Coasting at less than one kilometre an hour. Totally docile. Up here in the warm, they rarely harass anyone. Down south in the cold of the Kei, they can be as cunning as a Zambezi. And so the Admiral and I swam down together. It’s shallow here, like 14m. I had two huge guns trained on the shark just in case. But the Admiral was able to achieve a life-long dream and swim peacefully with a shark. Right alongside the massive beautiful animal. Very small eye btw.
And so we shot some fish and headed home. The next few days were a repeat of that morning and day. With a dive at Cape Vidal over lunch. And back to Leven Point, or Oscar’s along the way. Although none of our party really even knew where Oscar’s was. I could only find it at low tide!
The following fish were all recently shot at Cape Vidal…
Epilogue
Admiral Woody Woodburne, the submarine pilot, passed away in 2013. I shall never forget the dives and times we had that week. Tony is late too. Died exactly where he wanted to – on a hunting trip. Pete is settled and working in Durban. Rick is still travelling. And I am still right here slamming at the keyboard in Port Shepstone. 30-something years later!
Attributions
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lambert_Jackson_Woodburne#cite_note-SilentWar-11
By Navy Photo Unit, Naval Printing Press, Simon’s Tow – Original publication: unknownImmediate source: http://scientiamilitaria.journals.ac.za/pub/article/view/331/369, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=39867515
This post was sponsored by MYDO Fishing Lures, Umzimkulu Adrenalin and the Umzimkulu Marina. You can take advantage of a special spearos offer at the Marina right here.
