Isle of Sharks?
By Larry O'Hanlon

Isle of Man, British Islands, 8/14/00 — I arrive here by water on a ferry from Dublin that moves so fast I fear for the life of any basking shark that gets in its way. Happily, I see no fins.

In Douglas, the largest town on the island, it is immediately clear that there are many other things on people’s minds other than the gentle plankton-eating giants that live off the coast. There's the business of tourism, which fills hotels, restaurants, B&Bs and video arcades. And there are banks. I count a dozen in a short walk along Douglas’ neat, narrow streets.

Miles later, I enter the much smaller town of Peel, nestled below heather-covered hills and between sea cliffs. This town appears to specialize in ice cream parlors, pubs and basking sharks. The last thing is only natural, since Peel is home to Ken Watterson and his Basking Shark Society.

I stumble onto the society's office along the town’s quarter-mile waterfront. The office's tiny, salt-encrusted front looks across a road and concrete promenade to the open waters of the Irish Sea. This is "Shark Central" on the Isle of Man.

But it is "Closed."

Watterson is already at it. His research boat, Jasmine, is gone from the docks, explains John Mason, proprietor of the nearby Waldick Hotel. He points across the harbor to the space where Jasmine normally docks.

The day looks ideal for shark watching, Mason explains. The calm, silvery water shimmers as it stretches flat to the northwestern horizon: perfect conditions for catching sight of shark fins sticking out of the surface.

I'm ready to search, so I wait.

Tomorrow: Rough Seas

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