Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.
—JOHANN GOETHE
I TAKE A LAST DEEP BREATH BEFORE diving underwater. As I kick deeper, bands of sunlight dance across the reef on Grand Cayman Island. I'm trying to stay calm and move gracefully so I can stay down longer and not frighten the teeming life around me.
The yellowtail jacks grow accustomed to my presence and swim closer. I try to reach out and touch them. The school—an undulating wall of fish— parts perfectly around my arm. I'm only eight years old; it is another five years until I'm old enough to start scuba diving lessons. For now though, the way I've learned to explore the ocean is through free diving and holding my breath for as long as I can.
The longer I stay underwater, the less the fish are afraid of me. They're very sensitive, moving every time my heart beats. Underwater, for a couple minutes at a time, I get to fly in this magical and colorful world, meeting and interacting with creatures beyond my wildest imagination. As much as I love the colorful fish and coral formations, I'm really in search of one animal in particular—a shark.
Peering out from behind a rock, I finally see the telltale shape of a Caribbean reef shark just slightly bigger than me. I watch as it moves closer, swimming gracefully and without effort.
I try to stay calm but am overwhelmed with excitement. The animal I wanted to meet most was finally in front of me, the closest thing to a dragon or dinosaur possible, but even cooler because it was real and existed.
After just a few seconds, I make a break for the surface for air. The shark notices me, and instead of moving in for the attack, it flees. How impossible, I thought, the shark is scared of me.
Watching one of the oldest and most feared predators in the world retreat in fear changed something in me forever. I realized that if the shark, this fearsome beast, was afraid of me, a little boy, then I knew that despite all the fear-mongering stories in the world, I had nothing to be afraid of. From that point on, I spent as much time underwater as possible, not only to take advantage of my newfound freedom, but also to try to hang out with these fascinating predators.
Twelve years later, I had a biology degree and was chief photographer for Canadian Wildlife magazine. I soon found myself on an eighteen-hour boat ride to Darwin and Wolf Islands, one of the most important gathering places for sharks, some 160 miles (257.5 kilometers) north of the Galapagos Archipelago, 900 miles (1,448.4 kilometers) from Ecuador. I was on assignment to photograph hammerhead sharks, my favorite sharks, for the first time in my life. Here, hammerhead sharks congregate in greater concentrations than anywhere else in the world, to socialize and find mates.
I woke up at four in the morning to see if we were any closer to these mystical islands. As I looked out over the waves, I started to see little black flags sticking out of the water. Not knowing what they were, I imagined they were secret dive sites or flags to mark particularly shark-rich areas. But I would soon find out that these little, tattered flags were actually attached to longlines, which were catching and killing the very animals I had come to film.
Longlining is a brutal and indiscriminate fishing method explicitly banned in the Galapagos. A single longline can have up to sixteen thousand hooks on a sixty-two-mile (99.8-kilometer) line, almost long enough to stretch from Earth to outer space. Despite targeting specific species, they kill indiscriminately, taking seals, dolphins, sea turtles, and sea birds, contributing to humans wasting fifty-four billion pounds (24.5 billion kilograms) of fish each year as bycatch—animals that are killed and thrown back because they aren't the target species.
We spent the entire day pulling in thirty-seven miles (59.5 kilometers) of longlines, releasing the couple dozen sharks that were still alive, and throwing hundreds of dead sharks back into the sea. We were in a UNESCO World Heritage Site protected by the Ecuadorian military, supposedly one of the most protected marine reserves on the planet. If sharks are being fished here so blatantly, I feared they must be in even worse trouble in the rest of the ocean, which is mostly unprotected.
I soon found out that more than one hundred million sharks were being killed each year, and that shark populations were plummeting worldwide. What's worse, to my horror, no one cared—largely, I believed, because everyone was afraid of them.
As a photographer, I turned my efforts toward educating the public about the plight of sharks through magazine and newspaper articles. I also set up a fund so readers could donate money toward putting a patrol boat at Darwin and Wolf Islands in the Galapagos.
This became my mission not just because I loved sharks but also because I loved the ocean. Sharks have been here for more than 450 million years—150 million years before the dinosaurs. They're the world's ultimate survivors. Having lived through five mass extinctions, they evolved into one of the most highly adapted and successful animals on Earth. They're the world's foremost predator, responsible for shaping today's oceans and much of the life in it.
Sharks sit on top of oceanic ecosystems, the very ecosystems that consume carbon dioxide and provide the oxygen in the air we breathe. If we look to basic biology, we know that if sharks are eliminated, the species below them in the food chain will dramatically increase in population, setting off a chain reaction that would reshape the marine ecosystem. At the bottom of this chain, we find tiny plants that convert carbon dioxide into oxygen, producing more than half the oxygen in our atmosphere. Removing the top predator from the most important ecosystem on this planet could have huge consequences for our own survival.
But why were people killing them?
The simple answer is money. There is an enormous and growing demand for shark fin soup. Through much of Asia, but most popularly China, shark fin soup is a status symbol and is served as a sign of respect. Now a ubiquitous dish at banquets and weddings, a single pound (.5 kilogram) of shark fin sells for more than three hundred dollars. Once reserved for emperors, the booming middle class in China has created such a massive demand that a single whale shark fin can fetch more than fifty thousand dollars. Shark bodies are less valuable and spoil quickly, so fishermen started finning to increase profits. They cut the fins off and throw the rest, 95 percent of it, overboard. By drying the fins, fishermen can avoid expensive refrigeration systems, and even the most decrepit boats can fin sharks and turn a huge profit. Though this practice has been outlawed in many countries, it continues unmonitored and unabated in international waters, spurred on by what is estimated to be a multibillion-dollar market worldwide.
The huge demand for fins and poor fishing regulations have decimated shark populations in every ocean on Earth. Studies from Dalhousie University show that shark and large predator populations in the oceans have dropped an estimated 90 percent in the last fifty years. The U.S. National Marine Fisheries Service says some species of shark, such as tiger, bull, mako, and great white, have dropped by more than 95 percent and are on the verge of extinction.
Realizing the gravity of the situation and my lack of success using print media, I knew I needed a more powerful weapon. I needed to not just educate the public about the plight of sharks but also reverse the media's portrayal of sharks as menacing predators to people—something Hollywood had perfected. As long as people believed all sharks were like the ones portrayed in Jaws, nobody would want to protect them.
Once I was back in my home city of Toronto, my dad told me about a new kind of video camera that George Lucas was using to shoot Star Wars. High-definition cameras were brand new and were high-enough resolution for their images to be printed in magazines. With this new technology, I started plotting out a film that would visually capture the public's attention while changing its views of sharks.
I immediately started looking around for equipment and financing and, most important, people who were willing to undertake this journey with me. There were, however, few organizations working to protect sharks. I heard about the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society and the work they were doing with whale conservation. I got in contact with their leader, Captain Paul Watson, to look into a campaign to save sharks. Watson has been battling illegal whaling for years. He's been shot at and rammed and sunk a whole Norwegian whaling fleet in the process. Watson invited me to join a campaign on their 165-foot (50.3-meter) ship, the Ocean Warrior, to confront shark poaching in the oceans of South and Central America.
Getting into gear as fast as I could, I assembled a makeshift crew out of a couple of longtime friends and borrowed enough money to rent HD cameras. We quickly jumped on a plane and met Watson and the crew of the Ocean Warrior in Los Angeles.
Boarding one of the most radical marine conservation ships in the world, we started a two-week trip south to Costa Rica. Costa Rica's Cocos Island is home to some of the greatest concentrations of sharks in the world. Without the ability to effectively protect their waters from foreign poaching, Costa Rica's president had asked for Sea Shepherd's help. Twelve days into our journey, in Guatemalan waters, we came across our first illegal sharkfishing boat.
It was called the Varadero, a Costa Rican longliner, pulling in sharks and cutting off their fins, which is illegal in Guatemala. Sea Shepherd contacted the Guatemalan authorities, who then asked Sea Shepherd to bring the boat into port for arrest. As much as Sea Shepherd was known for being radicals, in this moment we were working within the law.
Captain Watson hailed the pirate boat on our radio and ordered them to stop. He informed them that they were illegally fishing and ordered them to release the sharks on their lines. I ran out on deck and began filming as the fishermen ignored Watson's demands and continued killing sharks.
Racing the Ocean Warrior ahead, Sea Shepherd tried to intercept the lines and free the sharks. The Ocean Warrior was a much bigger and faster ship, but the Varadero darted ahead and seemed always to have another longline to pull in. Disabling them was the next tactic. Using a high-pressure water cannon, Sea Shepherd attempted to spray their boat to try to flood their engines.
Doggedly pursuing them with the water cannon on full blast, Sea Shepherd's translator kept repeating over the radio in Spanish, “You are illegally fishing in these waters. Guatemalan authorities have ordered you to stop.” This had no effect, and the chase went on for hours. But just then, almost in a flash, I heard lots of commotion and screaming, and then: “We're going to hit!”
I grabbed a railing with one hand and filmed with the other as we collided with the pirate fishing boat. Then it was a shudder to the side of the ship and a loud thud as the boats crashed into one another. Finally, the Varadero agreed to follow us into port to meet the Guatemalan authorities.
Halfway to Guatemala, Watson heard from the authorities that they were on the way to arrest both the Varadero and the Ocean Warrior. They asked us to stay put until they arrived, at which point we would be escorted back to shore to meet with the authorities.
I couldn't believe it. We were in trouble for enforcing their laws. Figuring some strings had been pulled, and not wanting to risk time in prison, Watson made the only decision he could in order to not compromise the entire mission. We ditched the Varadero and hightailed it to international waters, onward to Costa Rica.
Arriving in Costa Rica, the situation was not any better. We were charged with seven counts of attempted murder. The Costa Rican Coast Guard boarded the ship to search for evidence and told us we were going to be thrown in jail for trying to kill the fishermen aboard the Varadero. It was crazy. We were confined to port under house arrest and couldn't move, despite the forty-three testimonials and footage from three video cameras. The trials lasted weeks, with each case being thrown out with our overwhelming evidence and immediately reinstated with a new judge and prosecutor. Almost daily, the court sent prosecutors and judges to our boat to interview us, search the boat, and see the footage of the incident. Realizing the tapes might be confiscated and that we might need foreign pressure to get out of this, I shipped the tapes to Canada just in time, as they scoured the ship looking for them.
I couldn't believe that Costa Rica was putting us through all this when they were the ones who invited us to help them fight shark poaching. When we met William, an ex–shark fisherman, it became very clear that this was a much bigger issue than we had thought.
We sneaked ashore in Puntarenas, and William took us to where he believed the shark-finning mafia had illegal operations. Combing the high seas for a particular fishing vessel is like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but all fins have to be brought back to land to be dried and packed before being sold to the dealers. This was our chance to find out what was really going on with shark fishing in Costa Rica.
In a secluded area of town were warehouses on the water surrounded by high cement walls, barbed wire, and security cameras. We parked a few blocks away and headed back on foot, camera in hand. Unable to see anything at first, I climbed onto a transport truck so I could see over the huge walls and into the operation.
As far as the eye could see, there were tens of thousands of shark fins drying on the roofs of these warehouses. I started filming immediately, zooming in on the field of fins laid out to dry in the hot sun. Only visible from above, this whole area was a secret port where fins could be landed unchecked by authorities and dried out of sight.
I hadn't been up there for more than thirty seconds before I was spotted. Immediately, a few men climbed onto the roofs of the closest building, shoving the fins off the roof and out of sight. They had seen the camera and were clearly panicking, kicking and pushing the fins off the roof. There were far too many to cover up, and they must have realized that I was filming the cover-up as well.
Then a group of men with guns ran out of the warehouse, screaming and pointing at me. There were millions of dollars worth of shark fins on those roofs, and I was bad for business. I hurriedly scampered off the roof and sprinted to the waiting car, yelling at the driver to “Go! Go! Go!” I quickly jumped in, and so did our group, and within minutes we sped away. We headed for the center of town, where there would be the most people and the most cars—basically the most witnesses to anything that might go down. As we arrived, the mafia were nowhere to be seen. We'd lost them. I knew we had just made it and were lucky to be alive.
PHOTO BY SHARKWATER PRODUCTIONS
Back onboard the Ocean Warrior, we got a call from our lawyer asking us what we had done. Apparently we had aggravated the situation, and instead of keeping us under house arrest, they were going to imprison Captain Watson indefinitely. There was only one way out of this, to make a break for it. Watson made the order to quickly pull anchor, leaving a couple volunteers on shore, and we headed for international waters.
Only minutes from port, with the Sea Shepherd's engines on full throttle, the coast guard's ship caught up with us and ordered us back to port. They were waving machine guns, telling us they were going to shoot unless we stopped. We wrapped the ship in barbed wire so they couldn't jump onboard and raced on.
Manning the battle stations to face any boarding attempt, the activists' faces were tense as I continued to film. This was it. If we were stopped here, we could spend months, if not years in Costa Rican prison. As we crossed the line into international waters, the coast guard gave up pursuit, and the activists aboard the Ocean Warrior exploded in cheers. I breathed a big sigh of relief. We had escaped, but just barely (again and in the same day). Sailing out into the open ocean, I looked back, knowing it would be a while before I went back to Costa Rica.
This adventure, along with many more from a dozen other countries eventually became the film Sharkwater, which took me five years to complete. When I started, I was twenty-two years old, had never shot a video camera, and had no film experience or professional help. I jumped in way over my head, and in the process, I was hospitalized, lost at sea, and indebted to many. I had flesh-eating disease, West Nile virus, tuberculosis, and dengue fever. I had to beg, plead, borrow, learn, mature, grow, and become a filmmaker to get this film done. What started as a film became a mission and a way of life. Giving up was never an option, because people need this information for positive change to be effected in the world.
In revolutions of the past—from the end of slavery to movements for cultural or gender equality, from ending whaling to slowing the depletion of the ozone layer—there are some commonalities: they were always preceded by a growing awareness of an injustice. Things weren't right, and the public, when educated, forced change upon the world. My form of activism is making films, because they can educate, inspire, and create change.
PHOTO BY VERUSCHKA MATCHETT
Sharkwater went on to become the second-highest-grossing Canadian theatrical documentary of all time and had successful theatrical releases around the world. It's been cited as the inspiration for changing government policy in at least four countries and has helped spawn shark conservation groups. We amassed a massive shark conservation army, and recently, Hawaii became the first place in the world to ban shark fin soup and the possession, sale, and distribution of shark fins. When I started filming Sharkwater, there were only four countries that had banned finning. Now there are more than eighty. Change is happening, but we're finding out that the problem is much bigger than we thought. It's not just about saving sharks anymore; it's also about saving humanity.
By midcentury, scientists predict the end of fisheries, rainforests, and coral reefs; huge food and water shortages; and a population of nine billion people on a planet that can sustain far less. We'll have mass displacement due to rising sea levels, flooding, and desertification. This isn't just an issue, this is the biggest issue humanity has ever faced, and it's our own survival that's in jeopardy now.
Now, more than ever, the world needs heroes, and lots of them. And that is where you come in.
_________
Rob Stewart's film Sharkwater exposed the shark-finning industry to audiences and spawned conservation movements worldwide. Sharkwater has won thirty-five international awards and had its Asian premier in Hong Kong last summer, the epicenter for shark fin consumption. He continues to promote ocean conservation and is currently working on his next film: a how-to guide to start the revolution necessary to save the planet and, ultimately, humanity.
Twenty-five Mohawk Communicator
PHOTO BY BEN POWLESS