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- Written by: Chris Sayer
Penzance harbour is slowly stirring on a misty Tuesday morning, with not only the sound of seagulls piercing through the heavy wet air. I’m not sure there’s ever an ideal time to inhale a noseful of mashed-up fish guts, but it’s absolutely not 6am.
“The chum? It’s a mix of minced-up fresh fish, ground bran, and a secret mix of fish oils.”“I’m not sure there’s ever an ideal time to inhale a noseful of mashed-up fish guts, but it’s absolutely not 6am”Revealing part of the closely guarded blend that’ll soon be chucked into a mesh bag and dangled off the side of his boat is Kieren, a locally renowned charter boat skipper who’s preparing to take us miles out to sea in the hope of coming face-to-face with the apex predator we’ve hopped aboard his vessel to meet. One tempted to us by his smelly concoction of “chum” that looks distressingly like last night’s chilli. “We’ve got ideal fishing conditions today,” he tells us as we motor out of the harbour whilst the sun finally rises towards The Lizard, the most south-westerly point of the British mainland. “But not ideal weather for our sharks. It’s a bit warm – they’ll be feeling a little lethargic.”

“People are also coming to him for the caring and considered way he handles these cold-blooded hunting machines when they surface on the end of his floats and lines”It’s this respectful manner that springs into action a little over an hour into our first drift, as one of the four floats – a DIY rig made from a fluorescent Mountain Dew bottle – plummets under the surface, and a loud “We’re on!” from one of the Liverpool lads marks the start of a 10-minute duel through the calm water’s surface. Reels creak and scream, rods bend and backs strain, before our torpedo-shaped visitor looms up from the dark. Like a member of an F1 pit crew, Kieren leaps over the side of his boat armed with only a T-bar tool and pair of labourer’s gloves to whip the surprisingly small barbless hook from the corner of the shark’s mouth in one swift expert movement. Quickly, the fish slashes its tail to retreat beneath the thick blanket of darkness beneath the boat. Seeing this perfectly-formed prehistoric machine glide back into its habitat, a calm celebratory mood comes over the successful crew – one a lot like gazing into a recently lit roaring campfire. The pressure is off. We’ve met who we’ve come to see. But there’s no denying that the nine other Blues we’re visited by through the 11-hour day – all released with the same forensic yet relaxed methods – feel equally as special.





“Global populations of oceanic shark and rays have declined by 71% in the last fifty years”“The reality is that some species have declined by 90%,” Tom ‘The Blowfish’ Hird, marine biologist, broadcaster and The Shark Trust UK ambassador tells me a few days after my feet are back on dry land. “In fact, some hypotheses state that the Oceanic White Tip has declined by 99%. It’s a precipitous drop that just isn’t getting the same headlines as, say, pandas dying in China. Sharks – the wardens of our oceans – are critical. They really are on life support.” It’s a population destruction of cataclysmic proportions, with 143 species of shark now listed as ‘Under Threat’ by the International Union for Conservation of Nature. And it’s a morbidly impressive dent given the microscopic timeframe the decline occupies in the shark’s legacy, which has seen them patrolling the Earth’s oceans for more than 400 million years. How the hell have we managed it?



“The UK is soon to bolster its reputation as a global leader in marine protection by becoming the first European nation to ban the import and export of detached shark fins”“Sharks live long and breed late, often with small litters,” Tom says, when I ask why shark populations are finding it difficult to bounce back. “Take the Great White. A big female might not be ready to have a litter until she’s 20 years old, and even then, she’ll produce two pups, perhaps more. Then again, there is just so much we don’t know about these sharks and their birthing patterns. We’ve never seen them birth, and we don’t even know where they go to do it.” It’s a fight that is no doubt engaging to read about – another chapter of schadenfreude in the story of our destructive attitude towards our planet. But with the main antagonists making bloody waves on the other side of the planet and the protagonists hidden deep underwater, you’d be forgiven for thinking, “Yeah? So what? I live in the UK. This isn’t my problem?”. Unfortunately for you, it is.

“It’s a premonition that seems almost too sci-fi to believe – spineless lumps of leggy goo the ultimate downfall of humanity”It’s a premonition that seems almost too sci-fi to believe – spineless lumps of leggy goo the ultimate downfall of humanity. But if you were part of the record numbers of staycationers in Cornwall this summer, there’s a strong probability that you’ll have noticed how Compass Jellyfish are now as much a staple feature of the Great British Summer Holiday as ice cream and sand in your sandwiches. Even steaming out of Penzance harbour with Kieren, we plow through huge blooms of them – more than our skipper has ever seen before, he tells us.

“The protection has led to 25-times more sharks inside the reserve than immediately outside it. This is the story of how sharks can bounce back”Places like Misool Eco Resort are an example of that healing. Situated in the far-flung south of Indonesia – one of the world’s biggest players in the export of shark fins – it’s a diving and conservation area built on a former finning camp that has transformed 300,000 acres into a protected marine reserve where finning, harvesting of turtle eggs, and the (absolutely insane-sounding) practice of cyanide fishing is banned, leading it to become one of only a few places on the planet where the quality of reef is improving year on year. “It gives me hope,” says dive instructor and conservationist Jo Marlow, who has worked with the Misool Foundation for six years now. “There are now multiple shark nurseries all around Misool. Reports show that the protection has led to 25-times more sharks inside the reserve than immediately outside it. This is the story of how sharks can bounce back.”

“Fundamentally, it’s a form of employment that will rely on healthy shark numbers and help to make them more valuable alive than dead”“Now, things are thriving. A few years ago, a regular season would see 300 sharks, but now the best season is up to 1800. Not only are we strictly catch and release, and keep the shark in the water at all times now, but all the sharks we catch today, and that I’ve seen through the season, will be recorded, along with the individual locations where we saw and released them. I’ll calculate a rough size for each, and as we’ve done for many years, will pass on that data to the Pat Smith Database – the biggest dataset for shark captures in Europe, and the second biggest in the world.” “When it’s done correctly and with respect, it’s brilliant,” Tom reiterates to me later. “Currently fishing with a line and hook is the only way scientists can get close enough to study sharks. There’s no escaping the fact that they do feel pain and will register the experience, but that’s more reason to release it correctly, professionally and with respect. It’s a great way to educate through citizen science too, and fundamentally, it’s a form of employment that will rely on healthy shark numbers and help to make them more valuable alive than dead.”

