My heart is thumping as the 6-foot blue shark swims toward me, nearing the diving cage that is all that protects me and my camera from the silvery, sleek-torsoed projectile. It is only as the shark comes close enough to look me in the eye, though, that I realize the opening in the cages camera window is wide enough to admit the razor-sharp teeth. There isn time to think. With all my might, I take my small point-and-shoot underwater camera and punch the shark in the snout, my instinctive fear fueling the single blow.

The cage from which the divers will photograph the sharks is lowered into the sea. Mary L. Peachin / Special to the Arizona Daily Star Sharkmaster Jessie Harper feeds bait (mackerel) to blue sharks to draw them close to the cage used by photographers A scuba diver jumps off the stern to swim to the shark cage below. A blue shark, attracted by the floating bait, swims towards the divers in the cage.

No doubt about it: Scuba diving with sharks is not for everyone. Some folks get nervous just watching sharks glide by the sides of an aquarium tank. But for the diver, there is a natural progression from the interest of observing small, colorful reef fish to the excitement of scanning the blue water away from the reef wall searching for a glimpse of the "big stuff": open-water pelagics, including sharks, whales and mantas. I had more than a hundred dives under my weight belt before I experienced my first shark sighting.

San Diego is the spawning grounds of blue and mako sharks, and I recently revisited the up-close adrenaline-filled experience of cage diving with San Diego Shark Diving Expeditions.

Eight experienced divers board the 30-foot D&D II - I hope the initials don stand for "Death and Disaster" - in the early morning from the dock of West Mission Bay Marina, in the Quivira Basin. Sitting on uncomfortable aluminum benches lined with scuba tanks, we huddle under jackets or wrap ourselves with towels to warm from the damp chill of the morning Pacific fog.

Our knowledgeable and friendly captain, Scott Sindby, uses a GPS (global positioning system) unit to navigate the 9 1/2 miles to offshore spawning grounds in the La Jolla Abyss. The trip takes about an hour and a half, during which time Scott offers divers the latest seasickness preventative. A Sea Pen (available only in Mexico) stamps a red dab of ink on the palm. A Dramamine-like substance penetrates on a time-released basis. "Don use too much," Scott cautions. "One diver painted her hand and slept the entire trip."

We travel for about an hour before stopping for a checkout dive. This is our last chance to be sure our equipment is in working order and to test our mettle for shark diving. We familiarize ourselves with entering and exiting the cage and check that we are wearing enough weight to make us negatively buoyant (thats diver talk for heavy), which makes it easier to stand in the cage and thus to admire and photograph the sharks.

Experienced divers with extended strobes on their cameras are allowed to dive outside the cage, with the proviso that we assume all liability for our own safety. The witnessed liability release read, in part: "Scuba diving is dangerous; the open sea is a dangerous environment. The primary intent of the expedition is to attract dangerous and unpredictable sharks by baiting them. There may also be other animals and water conditions that are dangerous."

Id signed a few releases in my time, but this one certainly got my attention.

The boat operates with a crew of six: Captain Sindby, sharkmaster Jessie Harper, owner Paul Anes, chummer Kevin Nau, divemaster Christine Simon and videographer Perry Armor. Kevins sole responsibility is to chop the bait (also called "chum") used to attract sharks. In addition to the buckets of crushed mackerel, tuna and sardines spread by the sharkmasters, larger chunks of bait are tossed overboard to attract sharks swimming at lower depths. Tuna blood adds flavor to the mix. All this is augmented by the "mako magnet," an electronic device that emits a pitch that sounds like the cries of a wounded fish.

Clad in chain-mail suits and headphones that let them communicate with the boat crew, Jessie and owner Paul Anes swim around the cages releasing bait. Christine assists divers with their equipment, while Perry shoots videos, which divers can buy after the trip. Perry has a setup that, in the diving world, is the ultimate convenience: a dry suit fitted with a condom catheter attached to a P-valve that exits through the leg of his suit. (In diving, its said that there are divers who pee in their wetsuits and those who admit to peeing in their wetsuits.)

We are instructed to stay next to the cage and not below, where ascending air bubbles might obstruct the view of divers in the cage. If an aggressive mako (a cousin to the Great White) appears, we are to put our backs to the cage and keep eyes glued to the shark. If two mako appear, we are to scurry into the cage.

The mako warnings prove useful. Twenty-three minutes after we begin chumming, a 6-foot mako comes after the bait. Fortunately, the mako swims off, and we have only a smaller one darting around the cage.

My moment of truth arrives. It is time to jump into the water with the sharks. I stand on the scuba-dive platform at the stern of the boat watching the sharks circle the boat, their fins snaking along the choppy surface of the cobalt blue Pacific. As I put the regulator in my mouth, I can hear little besides my own breathing.

Chain-suited Jessie makes a 360-degree turn in the water to check for sharks swimming between me, on the dive platform, and the shark cage.

With a circle of my fingers, I signal OK and take a giant stride into the 3,500-foot-deep, frigid (60ish-degree) water. The "adrenaline junkie" persona has superseded my other roles of wife, mother, businesswoman and community volunteer.

As I descend quickly to the cage, my eyes sweep the water for sharks. Comforted by the security of the bars, I feel the chill of the water and the current swaying the cage. I wedge my fins under the bottom bar to steady myself and turn on my camera.

As I focus on sharks gulping chunks of bait, I am totally distracted from the chill and the queasiness of potential seasickness. My concern about the size of the camera opening turns out to be realistic. After I successfully bop the first shark that tried to enter the cage, I feel a false sense of security that my camera will protect me.

Time passes quickly as 36 frames lick through the camera. We are allocated 40 minutes for each of our two cage dives. Being a warm-water diver, I have not adequately prepared with the proper hooded wetsuit, and Im beginning to get chilled to the bone. I welcome the return to the surface.

Then I realize that, when it is time to ascend to the boat, I will not be able to see the sharks behind me in open water.

Thus, exiting the cage turns out to be the most frightening part of the experience. By the time it was my turn to dive, the sharks had been in a feeding frenzy for more than two hours. But I ascend quickly with no problems - and sprawl, emotionally exhausted, on the deck of the boat.

Even then, I am already planning my next encounter with sharks.

I think of diving in tropical and warm ocean waters. Cold water, baited sharks and swaying cages are not my preference. I have a distaste for being cramped in a cage shared with two strangers. I prefer open-water shark diving where I can scan the blue water away from the reef wall.

But one constant of both open-water and caged diving is the adrenaline rush. The feeling builds from the time you sign up for the trip until you make your final exit from the water. And with or without cage, it is easy to remember that the anxiety will be overtaken by the graceful beauty of these great creatures - and that the sleek, beautiful sharks deserve both respect and admiration.

If you go

San Diego Shark Diving Expeditions runs daylong Saturday trips twice a month. The cost of $260 includes two 30-40 minute cage dives. All divers must be certified and experienced. A hooded wetsuit should be included with your dive gear. Underwater cameras and video are available for rental.

For further information: San Diego Shark Diving Expeditions, (888) SDSHARK,
(619) 299-8560 or
http://www.sdsharkdiving.com/.