In the early 70's was the swing shift harbormaster at Pillar Point Harbor, Half Moon Bay. Ca. We were right in the middle of what is known as the Red Triangle, the heart of the Great White Shark activity area in northern California.
Came on shift just in time to hear a frantic call come over the VHF radio in the office... "May Day May Day, this is the dive boat Moki at the Farrallon Islands, we have a severe shark attack victim, need urgent medical assistance, Repeat...."
The diver Ron had been on the bottom in 30' of water, raking sea urchins for the Japanese market, diving with a hooka so he could just stay under and work for hours....his partner Steve is up on the deck of their Radon boat feeding the hookah hose when all of a sudden the hose just starts cutting an arc through the water and than gets heavy...Steve, all 240# of him, grabs the safety line which tied off to a chest harness on Ron, pulling with all his might, feet braced against the gunnel, line whipping back and forth, Steve almost getting pulled over the side multiple times, than the line gets lighter and Steve starts pulling hand over hand...Ron surfaces, Steve hauls him over the side and lays him down...blood leaking from a massive bite around his side, hips and back...Steve makes the mayday call, and with luck, there is a Coast Guard chopper on a routine training flight just minutes away. Chopper drops the Stokes basket, Ron gets hauled up, the CG chopper has him on the roof pad at Letterman Hospital in 20 mins and he's into trauma surgery immediately.
Steve returns to port to put the Radon on the trailer and get to the hospital, he's shaken up, says he has no idea how Ron can make it he was so badly bitten. Ron had been diving with a Glock in a thigh holster, when he got taken, the shark bite was over the gun, so Ron could never get to it. He had been able to get to the short sheath knife strapped to his off hand forearm, however, and had kept stabbing the shark the entire time he was in it's jaws, and later said he believes that why it finally let him go.
Steve calls in the next day to say Ron made it, had been in surgery for hours, a dozen transfusions, he was going to live, likely be in the hospital for the next few weeks.
The following year I'm working a double shift to cover someone out, in the morning I see the Moki roll into the launch ramp area, go over, it's Ron and Steve, Ron walking with a hitch. We talk a bit, he lifts his shirt, drops his pants to his knees, looks like a chain saw had been used on him. Chunks missing. 980 stitches to close him up. Ask him what are they doing.
Ron says he's been attacked by that shark every night in his dreams, figures the only way to end it was to go back to the exact spot he got hit, and put in some work.
That afternoon the Moki was back safely with a load of urchins, Ron and Steve came into the office to say good-by. They were hauling the boat to their home town of Santa Barbra, and said they would never dive in this area again.
Good choice.