They Called Her Darkness (and she was huge)
How a Bull Shark dive has prepared me for long term travel...
I knew about the bull shark dive before we even left for Fiji. It was quietly pencilled in the back of my mind — like a dare you regret accepting, but pride won’t let you back out.
A friend had done the dive just a few months earlier and I had commented on her post that she was crazy brave and I don’t think I could ever do anything like that.
And yet, the minute we booked for Fiji, there it was circling my head — like one of the sharks themselves, quiet but constant, waiting for its moment.
Fiji is known for its shark dives. People fly in from all over the world to do the famous one off Beqa Island — a 30-metre descent into deep blue, run by marine biologists in a conservation area. It’s dramatic, intense, and by all accounts, unforgettable.
But it’s also… a lot.
Two dives. Open water. Serious depth. For me, that felt like too big a leap.
The one my friend had done — the one I kept telling myself I definitely wasn’t doing — was at Barefoot Kuata. Shallower at just 12 metres. Run by an experienced dive team with a strong safety record. Still absolutely mental, don’t get me wrong, but somehow a little more doable.
The irony, of course, is that a bull shark can eat you just as easily at 12 metres as it can at 30.
But somehow, twelve felt… less lethal.
I Said No. And Then I Signed the Waiver
Barefoot Kuata was our last stop after working our way down through the Yasawas Islands. And I’d quietly hoped that by the time we arrived, I would have the courage of my convictions to say No!.
I’d told myself, “you’re not doing it. Just enjoy the trip. You don’t need to prove anything.” I’d already decided: absolutely not.
When we arrived, straight after check-in, we were told that the shark dive sold out fast and if we wanted to go we should head straight to the dive shop.
As my husband was all in, he headed off with me in tow behind him.
That’s where I met Semi. A former life coach, his goal was to eliminate the monsters of fear and doubt in people’s heads, and prove that sharks are not the man eating beasts we perceive them to be.
He had the calm presence of someone who’s seen it all — including the panicked Brits with quivering fins who show up asking him to swear on his grandmother’s life that it’s safe.
“Is it really safe?” I asked the million dollar question.
“As safe as we can make it,” he said, without flinching. “No accidents in ten years. We’ve got a big team. One staff member per diver. But they’re wild animals. We do what we can. You still need to sign a waiver.”
I nodded slowly. That made it feel real.
Then I surprised all of us (husband included) by saying, “Ok, sod it. Sign me up.”
Why I Had to Do It
I didn’t sleep that night. Barely touched dinner. Breakfast was a green tea I couldn’t finish. My stomach was in knots, my head filled with visions of bull sharks confusing my yellow fins for a fishy snack.
But here’s the thing: I had to do it.
We’re going full-time nomadic from January — starting in South America. And as much as I’ve travelled a lot already over the years, most of it’s been in safe, well-organised, relatively cushy environments.
This time it’s different. We’re backpacking. Off-path. No five-star fallback plan.
And honestly, I’ve gotten soft.
I feel fear more acutely in my 50s. I doubt myself more. My adventurous muscle has atrophied a bit. And I don’t want that to be the energy I bring into this next chapter.
I want to meet the world with resilience. Bravery. Curiosity. I want to grab life by the horns — or in this case, the dorsal fin.
So yes. A bull shark dive felt extreme. But maybe it was exactly the wake-up call I needed.
Note to Self
The morning of the dive, I scribbled down a note to myself — just to remember how scared I was. Here it is verbatim;
I guess I was this nervous before my bungee jump in my 20s. But I was in my 20s!
I had a terrible night’s sleep, and right now I feel so nervous I’m on the edge of tears. My only thoughts go to all the things that can go wrong and I’m honestly wondering why the heck I’m doing it.
But I know why. It’s because I need to start pushing myself. Full-time travel is coming and I need to be more resilient. Maybe a bull shark dive is a bit extreme — but hey, may as well start at the top.
My stomach is churning, my head is racing, and I’m sipping green tea with no appetite.
I don’t want to live in fear. I want to grab life and see and do as much as possible without holding myself back.
As Roosevelt said (was it Roosevelt?) — the only thing to fear is fear itself.
Lets see 🤞
The Briefing Didn’t Help
We met at the dive shop early that morning, pulling on wetsuits and trying to look more confident than we felt. Well — everyone else looked confident. I was quietly choking back tears.
Semi gathered us for a safety briefing. Not one of those reassuring, “You’ll be fine, it’s all good fun” talks.
No, this was more “Whatever you do, don’t raise your arms above your head. Don’t flail. Don’t distract the sharks. Stay low, stay still, and for the love of sanity, don’t stand up.”
Right. Got it. Don’t look like food.
Andy, a cheerful German man who’d done dozens of shark dives, was fiddling with his GoPro and making happy conversation. He was calm, upbeat, and thrilled to be here. It didn’t make me feel better.
We climbed into a small fibreglass boat and motored out about fifteen minutes from Kuata Bay. The closer we got, the quieter I became. As tears pricked my eyes I could feel the adrenaline starting to build — that shaky, nauseous kind of anticipation you try to breathe through without letting it show.
Semi stayed close. He knew I was on the edge. He helped me into my BCD and tank because, honestly, my fingers weren’t working. I was trying to focus, but my brain was stuck in a loop of ‘What Ifs.’
What if my regulator fails?
What if I panic and can’t find the purge button?
What if I shoot to the surface?
What if the splash attracts a curious shark?
What if I can’t breathe?
What if I lose it completely?
Just before we rolled into the water, I looked at Semi and said, “So… basically… you want me to roll backwards into shark-infested waters?”
He smiled. “Yep. But I’ll be right underneath you.”
With my husband and Semi already in the water, I took a deep breath and rolled back.
The moment I hit the water, I looked down.
And there they were.
Two shadows circling, already waiting, about 12 metres below….
Twelve Metres Down
We followed the reef down with our right shoulders brushing the coral wall, apparently nothing could sneak up from that side. I clung to that idea.
At the bottom, we reached a small rocky shelf, more like a shin-height wall. That’s where they lay us down, two-by-two. My husband held my hand the whole time.
Ten divers. Eleven staff. One on each side, armed with long poles to gently redirect any overly enthusiastic sharks.
Just to our left, a man in a metal cage began feeding tuna heads into the water.
At first, there were two. Then five. Then nine massive bull sharks.
And then came her.
Darkness.
A three-metre-long female bull shark with the kind of presence that makes your blood stop moving. Thick, wide, deliberate. The staff had named her, which didn’t help. They called her Darkness. She was enormous.
The sharks circled close. At one point, one swam just inches above our heads. They swam in front of our faces. They eyeballed us. And we just lay there, trying not to move, breathe too hard, or look like we might be chewy.
Andy — the German guy — had a shiny red casing on his GoPro. One shark took a nip and bit clean through the filter. Andy was delighted. I was screaming inside.
Then a girl with a Gopro signalled to me.
I had stupidly bought the video package and she wanted to take some video footage, which meant turning around with my back to the sharks. Balancing on my knees. In a current. Surrounded by man-eating predators.
There’s video footage of me trying to turn and look vaguely composed, but all I could think was I don’t want to be filmed. I want to lie down and survive. Also, I had yellow fins. I’d wanted black ones. Semi said they didn’t matter. I wasn’t convinced.
The feeding lasted about 30 minutes. After that, we stayed put for another 10 minutes or so while the sharks gradually dispersed.
The Sharks Drifted. So Did the Fear.
Not all of them left straight away.
As we swam back up alongside the reef, I could still see some over my right shoulder, hovering — just in case there were seconds.
As we reached the top of the reef for our three-minute safety stop, something shifted.
The reef was bursting with colour. Tiny fish darting around and bright corals waving in the current. Semi gave me a little underwater applause and for the first time all day (and probably the whole trip), I felt supremely calm.
As we clambered back on to the boat, I was euphoric. Shaking, buzzing, crying and absolutely over the moon.
You’re Braver Than You Think — You Just Haven’t Been Tested Yet
Bull sharks are no joke. They’re one of the most aggressive shark species in the world. They’ve been responsible for more fatal attacks on humans than great whites or tiger sharks.
But they weren’t interested in us.
They weren’t hunting. They weren’t angry. They were just wild animals being fed by professionals.
And that’s what hit me hardest after we got out.
So much of what we fear, especially as we get older, isn’t actually a threat. It’s just unfamiliar. Intimidating. Unknown.
Fear shrinks our world. It whispers lies. Tells us we’re not ready. That something bad will happen. That we shouldn’t try.
So we imagine the worst. We catastrophise. We sit out experiences because we’re convinced the risk is too high. But most of the time? The risk is mostly in our minds.
If I hadn’t done the dive, I’d still be scared. But because I did it — despite the nerves, the tears, the yellow fins — I walked away with something much more valuable than a GoPro video.
I walked away with proof.
Proof that I can face fear. That I can feel terrified and still act. That I’m not as soft as I think I am.
And now, with full-time travel on the horizon, I feel braver, calmer and stronger.
So whatever your version of the bull shark dive is — whether it’s quitting a job, starting a business, moving abroad, or just booking the bloody flight — do it.
The sharks will swim by.
But chances are, they’re not looking at you.
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