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I say Blacktip... Those dude are beasts IMO
Dive for the thrill, shoot for the kill.
My guess it was one of these.
Once her legs got caught in the beater bars, it ripped her in half.
then why are most Great White bites to the upper leg, hip, stomach, or chest?
i was just curious about some attack statistics and looked some up. very interesting stuff, btw.
but i noticed something unusual. they gave a disclaimer for the stats: "unprovoked great white shark attacks" or something.
are there idiots out there provoking shark attacks on themselves?
I wonder how long you would live after being cut in half or if it is instant death.
I know nothing about sharks. But swimming where they tell you not to because of sharks, seems like provoking them
It's like walking down the street in Detroit at 2 am. You may not be doing anything, but I doubt it ends well
If you get bit while cage diving with them or something like that it counts as provoked. But there are very few provoked GW attacks. The same goes for sharks that bite you when you catch them on rod and reel, pull them over the side, and they bite your foot. Lots of idiots out there.
This post has been edited 2 times, most recently by Weedline 12 months ago
"Because Bama now sucks just like FSU used to suck when we were getting dominated by OU. Does it make sense now?"- Sliger (FSU Fan)
well, that makes since, i guess. the cage thing is a little stretch, but i can see the argument. they did lure them in to see them most likely. and the catching-bite i get completely.
the only other scenario that just hit me is those idiots that lure them right to the boat and then touch the sharks nose. if one of them lost an arm, i wouldn't feel to bad for them.
it's just funny reading it when looking for stats on shark attacks, and then there's a disclaimer "unprovoked". first reactions to it was 'there is some idiot out there in a seal outfit, that took a bath in blood before going for a dip, all in the name of science to describe a shark bite'
going where there might be danger is different than provoking.
that like saying going in the woods is provoking a bear attack. not really, though it is possible to happen. poking a bear with a stick, now that would be provoking.
Does anyone know the depth she was in when she was attacked? Because there has never been a fatal Bull Shark attack in more than 20 feet of water. They have always been a Tiger, GW, or Oceanic White Tip.
This post was edited by Weedline 12 months ago
There is no "then why". Most shark bites are to the limbs. That includes GWs. Most GW bites are people having their legs munched or arms torn off. Same w Tigers.
There's prob a higher instance of GW torso bites, but that doesn't mean they "go for the torso". It's because they're huge. If you're lying down on your surf board a bite to the thigh will prob include your lower torso.
It would take a few minutes. Especially in this case. However, she probably went into shock from the force of the shark bite and drowned. The extreme drop in blood pressure would kill you on land, but because she was in water, she probably drowned. Also, lack of oxygen to the brain would cause it to shut down.
When I worked for the railroad, there was a man who was riding on the side of a train car in a yard setting off cars in yard tracks. Yard tracks are about 4 feet apart so it gets really tight sometime. Anyway, someone left a car hanging beyond the cut line (the line that marks where the train tracks start getting closer. The conductor was riding a car and that car was hit by the car hanging out beyond the line and it derailed the car on top of the conductor. The "truck" of the car (The truck is what the train wheels are on... 5 tons of steel.) severed his lower half of his body and he was drug away from his radio. BUT, the weight of the wheels I guess completely sealed the wounds so he wasn't bleeding out and all of his vital organs were good. Anyway he was trapped under the car for 45 minutes. He couldn't get his engineer to call for help so he made four calls.
1. Trainmaster- tell him there was a derailment and to shut down the mainline. (dude was thinking about the safety of others over himself.) He also told him that he was trapped under a car and was probably gonna die.
2. Dispatcher- shut down the mainline.
3. 911- he was still alive after 14 minutes and told them that there was an accident and he was cut in half.
4. His wife. Imagine that convo.
it took emergency responders 45 minutes to get to him. he was barely alive because he had gone into shock and eventually lost a ton of blood. He spent 4 months in the hospital, 37 surgeries. The railroad paid every bit of the bills and he is now in charge of something in one of the ATL yards I believe. Amazing story. Awesome dude.
doesn't matter... still not a bull shark.
Can't be a white tip, but those mother fvckers scare the shit out of me. She would have been ripped to shreds.
Mako? Blue Shark? They live in that part of the world...
I've now gone through every fatal Bull Shark death. If she was indeed bitten in half by a Bull, she will be the first person on record since they started keeping records around the world in the 1600's to ever be bitten in half by a Bull Shark. There are, however, multiple "bitten in half" deaths by Tiger's and GW's. There is also a few from Oceanic White Tips. But they couldn't be for certain it was an OWT and not a Tiger. Take it FWIW
Don't white tips attack in groups? I could have sworn you told a story about a diver in the 70's watching his buddy get ripped to shreds by a group of them.
I would have thought if it was a white tip it would have been a really really really gruesome and slow death
I am terrified of those bastards when I dive.
They can. They are nomads in the open ocean. They are what we call as the Ted Bundy of sharks. They look normal enough but are sociopathic killers. Since they live primarily in the open ocean, their smell of blood has to be amazing. It is, and they are usually the first on the scene of a ship wreck. When they show up, they don't bump you or screw around. They come in right after you. You are alive and wiggling when they eat you. No, they don't let you bleed to death like a Tiger or GW. As soon as he swallows your leg he's coming back for more.
They have to be aggressive because there is limited food in these areas and it is highly competitive. It's not uncommon for more than one to show up. They are responsible for more deaths on humans than every single other shark species combined. So that ,means count up all the deaths of Great Whites, Bulls, Tigers, and every single other shark that swims in the ocean and they still don't add up to the deaths the OWT has killed. They are also the furthest away from humans of any of the species. They come in contact with us the least. If these things swam where Bull Sharks swam nobody would ever go in the water.
Be forewarned. There's no traces of my trademark dry humor to found in this story and there's no happy ending. It's probably as close as I've come to my trip to Valhalla. In October of 1972 it happened like this:
Rod Temple and Robbie McIlvaine were waiting for me when I drove up to the beach at Cane Bay on St. Croix's north shore. This area of the Virgin Islands had some of the best wall diving in the eastern Caribbean and the drop off was an easy swim from shore eliminating a long boat ride from Christiansted. We unloaded our gear and began to dress under the shade of the palms while a dozen or so tourists watched with interest. Diving was still not an every day sport for most people and the double tanks and underwater camera equipment held a certain fascination.
We were setting off to recover some samples from a collecting experiment we have placed on the wall for a local marine science lab. Six days before we had positioned our large support float right over the drop off with the research vessel and carefully loaded our sediment traps, nets and lines so they'd be ready for positioning in various locations in the shallow patch reef and the deep wall. Today we planned to inspect one project at 210 feet and shoot some photography of the area. Rod transferred the dive profile and decompression information to his slate as Robbie and I rounded up the remainder of the equipment and walked into the warm ocean to begin our leisurely surface swim to the float station about 300 yards offshore.
We'd done Cane Bay hundreds of times in the last two years both for work and for fun and this October morning was no different than scores of others as we snorkeled over the clear sand a few feet beneath our fins. As usual, Rod struck a livelier pace and forged on ahead while we wallowed in his wake towing the photo gear and another plexi-glass sand trap the lab wanted set in the chute that spilled over the wall.
Reaching the float, Robbie retrieved the snap swivels that would anchor the trap into our rope grid strung on the wall face. Rod reviewed the deco schedule, "Look, if we can get this thing set up and check out the project at 210 in fifteen minutes, we can save a lot of decompression. Can you do the photos in that time frame if I run the lines on the plexi trays?"
"Sure," I replied, "but don't go wandering off in case Robbie needs help getting snapped in with the trap. That thing's a ***** to swim with."
"No problem," Rod smiled back. "I don't mind doing the heavy work for you lazy Yanks."
His British enthusiasm belied the fact that Robbie and I were about twice his size and strength although he was older and more experienced. We both gave him an "up yours" salute knowing full well that any heavy lifting always came our way while Rod handled the paperwork. As the time keeper and dive leader, he would keep track of our dive profile, work in progress, remaining air status, and then run the deco schedule.
He eased away from the float and begin to swim the short distance over the deep blue that marked the drop off. The visibility was great, over 125 feet horizontally and even better looking up and down. A mild swell wrapped around the point and the sea was calm. Two of the Navy vessels that we worked with on submarine listening tests were just a few miles offshore and we could hear their acoustical sound generators pinging away as we descended.
Rod settled in on top of the wall at 100 feet and we joined up to check gauges before slipping over in a gentle glide to the first work station at 180 feet. Robbie re-arranged the open ends of the traps to aim in the west quadrant this week and I fired off photos to record the scene. Most of the scientists who contracted us didn't do much diving themselves and they insisted on reams of photography so they could get an accurate idea of conditions in the deep water zones they were studying.
Signaling that we were finished, Rod led us over the coral buttresses and came to rest next to the deep project. It had slid a bit deeper during the week so Robbie and I eased it back into position and hoped it would stay put this time. This occupied our attention for most of ten minutes when Rod excitedly tapped me on the shoulder to point out the approach of two oceanic white tip sharks. This was nothing new to us as we dove with sharks routinely but it was rare to see these open ocean species in so close to shore. They passed within about ten feet of us and I shot a few photos as they swam off to the east.
We finished up the required observations and Rod filled out the field logs on his slate. Right on schedule he indicated, we were going to get out with only about 20 minutes deco it looked like. Robbie started up first and pointed out the sharks again as they swam by him headed over the coral and down into the sand chute. I remember thinking how strange it was to see oceanic white
tips right here on the wall at Cane Bay. It was kind of like walking off your back porch and seeing an African lion when you expected an alley cat.
We'd had our fair share of nasty encounters with white tips when we worked offshore. They frequently bit our equipment, the steel cables deployed from the research vessel, and even the shafts and propellers on occasion. We were convinced that they would bite us as well once they got going and never turned our backs on them without another diver riding shotgun. But these two didn't seem to pay us any attention and I turned to begin the ascent behind Robbie.
Our plan called for Rod to be the last guy up. I rendezvoused with Robbie at about 175 just over a ledge and we both rested on the coral to wait for him to join us. He was late and Robbie fidgeted pointing to his pressure gauge not wanting to run low on air. I shrugged and gave him a "what am I supposed to do" look and we continued to wait. Suddenly Robbie dropped his extra gear and catapulted himself toward the wall pointing at a mass of bubble exhaust coming from the deeper water.
We both figured that Rod had some sort of air failure either at the manifold of his doubles or a regulator. Since my air consumption was lower, I decided to send Robbie up and I would go see if Rod needed help. As I descended in the bubble cloud, Robbie gave me an anxious OK sign and started up.
But when I reached Rod things were about as bad as they could get. One of the sharks had bitten him on the left thigh without provocation and blood was gushing in green clouds from the wound. I was horrified and couldn't believe my eyes. He was desperately trying to beat the 12 foot animal off his leg and keep from sinking deeper. I had no idea where the second shark was and lunged to grab his right shoulder harness strap to pull him up.
Almost simultaneously the second shark hit Rod in the same leg and bit him savagely. I could see Rod desperately gouging at the shark's eyes and gills as he grimly fought to beat off his attackers. With my free hand I blindly punched at the writhing torsos of the animals as they tore great hunks of flesh from my friend in flashes of open jaws and vicious teeth. Locked in mortal combat, we both beat at the sharks in frantic panic. And then they suddenly let go. I dragged Rod up the sand chute, half walking and half swimming. Once clear of the silt I could see Robbie about 100 feet above us looking on in horror. He started down to us as I lifted Rod off the bottom and kicked with all my might toward the surface.
But in less than fifteen seconds the first shark returned and hit him again and began towing us both over the drop off. The attack had probably only lasted a minute at this point but Rod had lost a huge amount of blood and tissue and had gone limp in my grasp. I was still behind him clutching his right harness strap as the second larger shark hit him again on the opposite side down around the left calf. Like the other, this shark bit and hung on as we tumbled down the wall face.
We were dropping rapidly now completely out of control. My efforts to kick up were fruitless as the sharks continued to bite and tear at their victim, all the while dragging us deeper. I felt Rod move again to fend off another attack and my hopes soared upon realizing that he was still alive. I clung briefly to the edge of the drop off wall to arrest our rapid descent. The coral outcropping gave us some slight protection and for a moment the attacks stopped.
Both sharks retreated into the blue and I watched them circle our position from about ten feet away. To my horror I saw one shark swallow the remains of Rod's lower left leg right before my eyes. The other gulped a mouthful of flesh it had torn off. I tried to push Rod into the coral in an effort to shield him from another attack but there was nothing to afford any real shelter. As I turned away from the waiting predators, Rod and I came face to face for the first time during the attack. He shook his head weakly and tried to push me away. I grabbed for his waist harness for a new grip and felt my hand sink into his mutilated torso. There was no harness left to reach for. He had been disemboweled.
Shrieking into my mouthpiece in fury I pulled him from the coral and took off pumping for the surface with him clutched to my chest. Immediately the sharks were on us again. I felt the larger one actually force me to one side as it savagely sought to return to the wounds that gushed billows of dark blood into the ocean around us. Rod screamed for the last time as the second shark seized him by the mid-section and shook him. The blue water turned horribly turbid with bits of human tissue and blood. Once we were turned completely over and I felt Rod torn away from me.
I watched his lifeless body drift into the abyss with the sharks still hitting him. The attack had started around 200 feet. My depth gauge was pegged at 325 feet now but I knew we were far deeper than that. The grimness of my own situation forced itself on me through a fog of narcosis and exertion.
That's when I ran out of air. I think that subconsciously I almost decided to stay there and die. It seemed so totally hopeless and my strength was completely sapped. But I put my head back and put all my muscle into a wide steady power kick for the surface. I forced all thoughts to maintaining that kick cycle and willed myself upward.
After what seemed like an eternity I sneaked a look at my depth gauge: it was still pegged at 325 feet. I sucked hard on the regulator and got a bit of a breath. Not much, but it fueled my oxygen starved brain a bit longer and I prayed my legs would get me up shallow enough to get another breath before the effects of hypoxia shut my systems down forever.
There's really no way to describe what it's like to slowly starve the brain of oxygen in combination with adrenaline induced survival instincts. But I remember thinking if I could just concentrate on kicking I could make it. After a while the sense of urgency faded and I remember looking for the surface through a red haze that gradually closed down into a tunnel before I passed out. The panic was gone and I went to sleep thinking "damn, I almost made it."
I woke up on the surface retching and expelling huge belches of expanding air. Apparently the small volume of air in the safety vest I wore had been enough to float me the final distance and save my life. But I still had to deal with an unknown amount of omitted decompression and the certainty that I was severely bent.
Swimming to shore as fast I could, I felt my legs going numb. By the time I reached the beach I could barely stand. A couple on their honeymoon waded out and dragged me up on the sand. I gasped out instructions to get the oxygen unit from our van and collapsed. In an incredible burst of good fortune, it turned out the wife was an ER nurse from Florida and understood the pathology of decompression sickness. They got a steady flow of oxygen into me and ran to call the diving emergency numbers that I directed her to on the dive clipboard.
I drifted away again into unconsciousness and was revived at the airport where a med-evac flight was waiting to fly me to Puerto Rico. But the Navy chamber was down and it was decided to take me to the only other functional facility up on the island's northwest corner nearly 200 miles farther away. But the flight crew was afraid I wouldn't make it when we ran low on oxygen shortly after passing San Juan. So they had the police stop traffic on the main divided highway and landed on the road where a waiting Coast Guard helicopter snatched me away to the hospital roof.
Two days later I was released but with residual numbness in my arms and legs, substantial hearing loss, and legal blindness in my right eye that persists to this day.
Robbie's last view of Rod and me was as we were dragged over the wall in a cloud of blood by the sharks. He never saw my free ascent and so reported us both killed when he got to shore. It was not until I called my dad from the hospital that he knew I had survived. A week later we had Rob's memorial service at the beach. I resumed diving the next day. His body was never recovered.
Makos are usually open ocean pelagic fish(Think marlin territory). Blue sharks have smaller mouths than a big bull.
Makos and Blues are open ocean. Blues especially. They're way deep water.
Meh bring a bangstick or jab their nose with your speargun and you'll be fine... Sharks are just another thing out there in the water... You don't provoke them and keep an eye out and you'll be fine
People suck, this no different than one of you coming home and finding me riding your couch cushions down your stairs(so no gumps obviously) and then me getting mad about you getting mad.
Not deep from what I can infer. All the attacks there, save for that one have been on surfers. So all prob all have been in the 10-30 ft range.
nope nope nope... do not f with those bastards.
Also, where in the article does it say she was bitten in half?
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