Letters: The Great White Way

Having dived with the same south African company as Tim Cahill, I wasn't surprised by his article on great whites ("Here, Sharky, Sharky," August). The White Shark Research Institute does indeed have the best boat, but the antagonism, competitiveness, and lack of ethical conduct by all operators in the area are sure to destroy this lucrative and educational experience — most likely in the very near future.

Your account of the dangers of the South African white shark industry — both the operators and the conditions — was a delight to read. It was also, from my experience, wholly accurate.

Cahill's report, which includes an anecdote describing the use of a killer-whale dummy to ward off sharks, reminded me of University of California behaviorist Pete Klimley. When Klimley wanted to know why some hammerheads school, he did the logical (though not very smart) thing: He swam with them. When he wanted to know if whites feared killer whales, he donned an orca suit and dove in again. The results were inconclusive; they say more about the bizarre lengths to which some scientists will go to get answers, making them perhaps the most fascinating animals of all.

Cahill's article certainly had shock value, but he didn't address one of the most important problems facing sharks: These great predators are so dangerously overfished that the ocean's food chain is being turned upside down. More than 60 million sharks will be felled this year alone — many of them by Japanese ships whose fishermen cut off the fins and toss the bleeding animals back into the water to die. Given the many ecological threats facing our oceans and their inhabitants, it's easy to overlook the plight of a creature as seemingly unsympathetic as a shark. But in good conscience, we shouldn't.

Left Behind

There are many lessons to be learned from someone who made no compromises during life and who showed tremendous generosity after death ("An Unexpected Cash Flow," Dispatches, August). Steve Arrowsmith was my roommate in college, but I lost track of him in 1985. Two weeks ago I was passing through Yosemite, and Steve came to mind as I crossed the Tuolumne River, one of his guiding locales. I promised myself I would look him up when I got home. But with your magazine waiting in my mailbox, I had to search no further. I'll honor my friend by making a few donations to the causes that were important to him.

It's nice to be reminded that benefaction can come from unlikely quarters. Perhaps, with Arrowsmith in mind, I'll remember to be a little less judgmental of the ragtag guides leading my next river trip.

And No, He's Not Related to Santa

Paul Claus may be the "King of the Alaskan bush pilots," but as a businessman he's an uncontrolled crash landing ("The First Law of Gravity," August). I'd wager that clients who pay $700 a night to experience his rude behavior don't ask for a repeat performance.

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