Drowning My Ego In The Maldives

Coming up shallow in The Philippines

Have you heard of the Maldivian island Fuvamullah? Possibly, as it may have recently graced your IG algorithm. If you’re like me and have an affinity nay obsession with sharks then it most probably has. Well, I turned that obsession into adventure and graced this island with my enthusiastic presence with the sole intent on having experiences with these gorgeous Tigers. Some say, “Stupid.” I say, “Shhh I’m dreaming here.” I’m not going to say much in this particular article about those experiences other than that they were life changing! But what I am more interested in focussing on, for this article, were the non Tiger Shark dives.

I was so focused on Tigers, as I eagerly booked my package to Fuvamullah, that I didn’t even consider the other animals just waiting for me; most specifically Thresher Sharks. Threshers were always on my radar, I mean, with that elegant tail and eyes of a Victorian child about to die of consumption, how could you not be obsessed? But what I was unhappily aware of was how difficult it was to get remotely close to these damn things.

Facing Fear in the Blue

I remember one dive specifically, where we were trying to find Hammerheads. I remember this dive, in particular, because it was not one of my favourites. I could even say it was one of the scariest experiences of my life. Technically, I probably didn’t have anything to worry about but technically doesn’t really cut it when you’re 40 meters down, narced, and questioning life choices.

The dive started out as all dives should, with a very detailed briefing. It seemed straight forward enough; dive down deep, swim away from the reef into the blue, and look for sharks. Or I guess anything of interest. That’s exactly what I did and found myself exactly in that position. I was very deep, a little past my comfort zone, I was definitely narced which in this case only served to heighten my anxiety, and I was swimming into current, thus, blowing through air rather quickly. Everyone was in front of me, as for some reason I found myself in a group of bloody olympic swimmers, and I was desperately looking for anything to make this scenario worth it.

I had visions of getting low on air and having to surface by myself; having to swim three km back to the island on the waters surface; in the sun; looking like a delectable seal. This was worrying because, you may recall, which creature it was I was originally here to see (a very large apex predator who patrols round this island all day). Do The Maldives even have seals? I couldn’t google right then. This could not be how it ends!

Then I saw a tail swish below me. A Thresher shark! It was completely distinguishable by that stunning tail (fun fact: did you know Threshers slap each other with their tails during sex—those kinky minxes?). I only saw a quick swish before my NDL got low and I started shallowing up. But it was a brush with beauty I wouldn’t forget easily.

I was still pissing myself with fear as I got into the lower 30 meters. As I steadily climbed, I finally started to calm down and realised I was okay. I surfaced shaken but alive, and I had a revelation, as I scoured the surface looking for the other divers in my group—maybe being a real diver isn’t about conquering your fear of the extreme, it’s about knowing when to politely swim away from it.

Shifting Philosophy

I, thusly, did the logical thing; I fled to the Philippines. It was not just to escape the currents; I needed to reset. What I learned, in between packing my gear and nursing a bruised ego (so bruised I had to call my scuba Mom, Dad, and Auntie for a little sympathy) is this: knowing your limits isn’t weakness, it’s grace.

At this point in my life I was craving a quiet descent, the slow unfurling of light on coral, and the kind of dive where your breath is a lullaby. Now, of course, I wanted sharks, let’s not be crazy! I had a feeling, though, that I was capable of working smarter not harder.

I’ve taught yoga for most of my life and something about where I was after The Maldives felt similar. It reminded me of something I noticed in yoga as well; this tendency I had to chase complexity. The more acrobatic the shape, the more impressive it felt. We twist, balance, contort, to find stillness that was already available. But the practices that change us aren’t always the dramatic ones. Sometimes it’s the gentleness, the quiet of breath work, the moments of not pushing but of releasing.

Deeper, Darker, Dangerous in diving has a place, it’s an adventure sport for a reason. But we can seek what we want from the ocean, the experiences that better us, on our own terms. Once I stopped chasing asana, my yoga practice lost a lot of the stress that was woven into the fabric of my asana. When I let that go I really started to enjoy my moments on the mat more. It was time to put this personal philosophy to the test, at depth.

Meeting the Threshers

I booked Malapascua, Philippines pretty off the cusp. Most of my students were out of town for the summer so I had a little free time and decided it was time to put my plan into action. I won’t bore you with the details but after a lovely Cathay flight and a less than lovely bus ride from Cebu City to the very north of the island, I was on the very lovely island of Malapasuca.

Every time I land on an island like this I have to ask myself ‘is this the one I don’t leave?’ The island was definitely beautiful and everyone super friendly, I mean it’s the Philippines after all, but I was focused on one thing and one thing only—San Miguel nay I mean Thresher Sharks!

I booked with a dive company introduced to me through Ewan (the name I gave my ChatGPT), which was reputed for being the first ones on the dive sites and getting everyone into the water first. Allowing you to be there with as few divers as possible.

It was a 4:00 wake up but these are the sacrifices we make—begrudgingly, but we make them. The boat ride to the dive site was about an hour and with calm waters I used most of that time to nap. Beginning the dive we descended down a line to the top of a pinnacle and made our way over to one side to wait for the guests of honour.

The visibility was good, the water was warm, and the current was very friendly. I drifted along at 15 meters enjoying myself immensely despite the knot in my stomach as the Threshers were definitely common but not guaranteed.

The knot evaporated in about 6 minutes because, as we floated over to the side of the pinnacle, a stunning image emerged over the rocks. A blue, no green, no silver, NO all the colours, bullet of a haunted eyed Thresher began swimming slow circles so close to us, looking for cleaner fish to do their duties. This island is the only place in the entire world where Thresher Sharks come this close to the surface to be cleaned of parasites after a long night of hunting.

It swam towards us for a brief second and then disappeared. “Mission accomplished,” I thought, but no, the show was not over! Over the next four days I had the absolute privilege of coming face to face with these beauties. I will be honest, sometimes a little too face to face; as it turns out. Under the right circumstances Threshers are not the shy delicate types their reputation describes them as. They were playful and curious and again are just the puppies of the sea. Don’t touch the puppies!

Lessons from the Ocean

On my last diving day I had had some of the most beautiful underwater experiences of my life, and as I hung there in the blue, a Thresher’s silver tail passed by like a slow pendulum. I realised I was still—calm, comfortable, and enjoying my breath.

I hadn’t chased this moment, I hadn’t fought for it. I’d simply moved in the right ways, at the right time, and it had found me. Sometimes, the rarest wonders arrive when you stop thrashing the waters. Stay soft, stay in love with the ocean, because she is not a prize to be won with depth but a companion to be met in stillness.

Written by: Mark Scodellaro