FIJI DIVE

FIJI . SHARK DIVING

Shark diving in Pacific Harbor, a couple of hours’ drive from the international airport on Viti Levu, elbowed its way onto my list because it offers a fairly certain chance of seeing what any honest diver will admit to yearn for: lots and lots of big fish.

Giant trevally, each bigger than a grown man’s torso, racing around in swarms. A grouper the size of a love seat. Schools of plump snapper. Stealthy suckerfish, with their eerily flat heads. And such vast quantities of smaller reef fish clouding the deep that they alone, not the raging seas above, often pose the biggest obstacle to an unobstructed photograph of the huge bull sharks lumbering by.

There is a trick to luring sharks, I quickly learned when I was in Fiji last fall, and it is deviously simple. Dive boats chum up the waters with hundreds of pounds of discarded fish scraps, drawing a storm of life from miles around. Purists may call it cheating. Biologists fret over the potential impact on shark behavior, or on the delicate balance of life around the reefs. But there is no debating its efficacy.

Kneeling on the sea floor, almost 100 feet down, I counted 10 adult bull sharks circling directly overhead on one of my six shark dives, their skin taut over thick layers of muscle. Higher up, as many as two dozen speedy, smaller sharks — gray reefs, black tips and white tips, with their catlike eyes — darted by our stunned group, close enough that I felt a swoosh of water on my face from a passing tail. Had we not been clamping down so tightly on our regulators, our mouths would surely have been agape.

But if attracting the sharks is a relatively crude affair, handling them is nothing short of an art. With no cage to protect us, professional divers flanked the group, gripping aluminum prods in case the predators became overzealous. Then the feeder would reach into his bag of fish parts and wave the sharks in, one by one. Clad in chain mail under his wet suit, the feeder would dangle and sway the waiting flesh, enticing the powerful beasts, some of them about eight feet long and hundreds of pounds, to eat right from his outstretched hand.

The smaller sharks, graceful and lithe, needed little encouragement. With surprising discipline, they took turns approaching the feeder in an orderly single file, snatching the treats and quickly swooping away, their white bellies nearly grazing our heads as they scurried off.

Keenly aware of the ritual, they then circled around for the next spot in line. When a brazen newcomer from another reef broke ranks and rushed up from behind, one of the feeders, Manasa Bulivou, a Fijian man who goes by the nickname Papa, deftly grabbed the five-foot shark, spun it around and socked it in the gut with an uppercut — a lesson in manners, Papa later explained.

But the big bull sharks, despite their reputation as aggressive man-eaters, were strangely shy. An enormous and visibly pregnant one the divers called Big Mama seemed almost finicky as she warily sniffed at the flesh being offered her before turning up her nose entirely. Some of the bulls lurked in the distance, no more than silhouettes in the blue. Others swam languidly toward us, as if playing a lazy game of chicken before nonchalantly turning away.