Andrew Carter
I first met Andrew while traveling through Cornwall two years ago. He’d been attacked by a shark while surfing at his local break in South Africa. So I caught up with him, and he told me his amazing story.
It was about exactly two years ago today. I was paddling out at my home break. I’d just finished work in my surf shop and paddled out at Noon Reef, which is a reef break—kind of like surfing the Cribbar or something, with rocks.
There were three of us sitting about 200 meters out to sea. I had just caught a wave that turned into a bit of a flat section, so I kicked out before the inside section started bowling up and paddled back to the peak. I didn’t see anything coming—didn’t see the shark at all.
The next thing I knew, it felt like I was being tackled from behind on my left side. I was lifted out of the water and then pulled back under. My head and shoulders were still out of the water, but the shark had my leg—and my board—in its mouth. It was biting and pulling at the same time.
In that split second, I realized this was a life-and-death situation. I didn’t feel any pain—just pure adrenaline. I was hanging onto my board as hard as I could, thinking, If I let go, this thing’s going to pull me off the board.
Then, I think luck—or whatever it was—took over. The shark opened its mouth to get a better bite, and because of the buoyancy of the board and how hard I was pulling, I flung over the other side. The board wedged into the shark’s mouth. When it closed its mouth again, it clamped down on the board while I was sitting on the other side of it. The shark started thrashing with my board still in its mouth, just next to me.
I thought, I’ll swim for the land. I took my leash off, turned around, and started swimming. After six or seven strokes, I realized I was still a long way from shore. I didn’t think I’d make it before the shark figured out what was going on.
I turned around to look back at my board, just in time to see the shark let go and disappear underwater. In my mind, I thought, It’s coming for me again. My best chance was to get back to the board—get something under me.
So I swam back, grabbed the board, and at that moment, a set wave came through. As I grabbed my board, a wave broke right next to me. I turned, paddled three strokes, and caught it. It carried me almost all the way to shore. But there was still a deep channel—maybe 50 or 100 meters—I had to battle through.
I had this big trail of blood behind me, and every stroke I was thinking, This thing’s going to nail me. It was only when I got into two or three feet of water that I realized: I’m actually getting away from this. I’m going to live.
That’s when the second wave of reality hit. I suddenly realized how badly I’d been bitten. There was blood all over the rocks as I crawled up. I started screaming for help. Some people came down and started helping me. But I still thought I was going to die from blood loss. I was lying there, losing consciousness, thinking, Well, this is it. But I was still pretty happy to be out of the water.
Then someone told me—just in the edge of my subconscious—that someone else had been attacked as well. I remember thinking, If they’re as bad as I am, they’re in serious trouble. It turned out that just after the shark attacked me and everyone was paddling in, it attacked the other guy too. He lost his leg in the attack and sadly died from blood loss a day later.
After I was lying on the beach, they used my board as a stretcher and carried me up to the car park, where the ambulances were waiting. One of my good mates was there, running around trying to help. I said to him, Just get me the best surgeon you can—fly him in from the States if you have to. I don’t care what it costs, I want the best.
He made some calls and was told that one of the top surgeons in the country was in our hometown—he happened to be playing golf at a nearby course. They got him on his cell phone, and he was at the hospital waiting when the ambulance arrived. He was ready to operate.
He did a four-hour operation, stitching all my muscles back together. The muscles had been severed from my knee right around to the top of my backside. The scar has healed so well now. The bite went all the way around and ended up on top of my hip. The surgeon told me afterward how lucky I was—that it had been a great white. Because their teeth are so straight and sharp, it was like someone had taken a Stanley knife and made a clean cut. If it had been another species, it might have shredded everything.
Even then, the danger wasn’t over. For four days after the surgery, the biggest threat was septicemia. They didn’t know if they’d have to cut it open again or remove meat that had gone bad. It was touch and go.
Another part of the miracle was that my sciatic nerve—which operates your whole leg—was lying loose in the wound. The teeth had just missed it. There were pressure marks from the bite, but if it had been severed, that would’ve been the end of my leg.
Do you get nightmares?
No, actually. That’s something a lot of people ask. In the first few days, I was on morphine—pretty heavily dosed for seven days. Even the fact that the other guy had died didn’t really register; I was just too out of it.
On the seventh day, I decided to go without morphine. I wanted to face the pain. That’s when I realized it wasn’t just the pain the morphine was masking—it was the trauma. That night, the first night without it, I totally lost it. I was checking behind curtains, in the walls. I thought there were sharks in the room. I was on my own and had to spend the night with the lights on.
After that, I had one or two flashbacks, but really, it just faded. People ask if I have nightmares, if I’m scared to surf again. But it’s not like that. It’s more about the unknown. People have car accidents and drive again—it’s the same thing. Sharks are just such an enigma.
As for the other guy—Bruce—I think about him. Every time I get a really good barrel, I think about Bruce. He was killed, but we all have to live with the fact that we’re going to die one day. I’m not callous about it, and I’m not sad either. I just think: we carry on. There’s more to life than just this world. So I have a barrel for him every now and again.
I remember lying on those rocks, thinking, At best, I’m going to lose my leg. I didn’t think I’d live, let alone surf again. And I remember thinking, If I can’t surf, I don’t know if I even want to be around.
But I’ve been given a second chance. And when I get back in the water, it puts everything into perspective.
So why go back to Noon Reef?
Well, Noon Reef is the best wave in the area. It’s such an exhilarating feeling—riding those big open-faced walls. There’s no other wave around that gives me that same rush. Maybe Sunset Beach in Hawaii.
And you know what? Sometimes the waves are so good, they’re almost worth dying for.
