Cape Town Should Stop Selling Ghost Dives

There was a time when Cape Town’s Millers Point was legendary. Ask any diver who explored False Bay ten or fifteen years ago and they’ll describe it the same way: a dive site where sevengill sharks — prehistoric, broad-nosed, three-metre-long predators — swam in numbers. Not one. Not two. Whole schools! Divers would descend into the kelp forest and within minutes find themselves surrounded by these slow-moving but powerful sharks, gliding past with that unmistakable swagger.

Sevengill Shark swimming through a kelp forest

For years, Millers Point was one of the most reliable places in the world to see sevengills. Tourists came from across the globe for the chance to swim alongside an animal that looked like it swam straight out of the Jurassic period. Operators sold “cowshark dives” (as sevengills are commonly called in South Africa), confident that their guests would leave buzzing with excitement.

But that was then. The reality today is far less glamorous: it has been almost a decade since sevengill sharks were reliably seen at Millers Point.

And yet — against all evidence — many dive shops, tour agencies even hotels and popular online publications continue to market “sevengill shark dives” as if nothing has changed.

Screenshot from getaway website promoting shark diving

The Harsh Reality: Sharks That Aren’t There

Divers booking these trips often arrive with enormous excitement. They’ve seen the photos, read the blogs, and watched the videos online. For some, this is their once-in-a-lifetime dive holiday. But what happens when they descend into Millers Point?

They see kelp. They see reef fish. They see urchins, sponges, and sometimes seals. But they do not see sevengill sharks.

Instead of awe, divers climb back onto the boat with disappointment. They were sold the dream of a guaranteed shark encounter, only to discover that the promise hasn’t been true for years. It does not mean they had a bad dive, their expectations were simply not met.

That’s not just bad luck — it’s false advertising. And worse, it undermines Cape Town’s credibility as a diving destination.

Where Did the Sevengills Go?

The million-rand question is: what happened to them? Why did sevengill sharks vanish from Millers Point after being so reliable for decades?

The truth is, no one can say for certain. Shark ecologists and local divers point to several possibilities:

Shifts in prey distribution – Sevengills feed on fish, smaller sharks, and even seals. If prey availability shifted deeper or to other areas, the sharks may have followed.
Environmental change – False Bay has seen warmer water intrusions, algal blooms, and habitat shifts over the last decade. Subtle changes in water temperature or oxygen levels could have driven sharks away.
Fishing pressure – Sevengills are not immune to fishing impacts. South African Sevengill sharks are targeted for the fish and chips industry in Australia often sold as flake and are sometimes caught as bycatch. Sustained removals may have reduced local populations.

Human activity – Millers Point is close to a busy boat launch site. Constant disturbance, combined with diver traffic, could have altered their natural patterns.

One of the last scientific surveys to record sevengill sharks at Millers Point was conducted more than a decade ago. Since then, sightings have been anecdotal, scattered, and unreliable. Divers rarely report encounters, but the “guaranteed sharks” at Millers Point has been over for years.

Research and the Missing Data

Globally, sevengill sharks (Notorynchus cepedianus) are poorly studied. They are listed as "Vulnerable" but “Data Deficient” on the IUCN Red List, which essentially means we don’t know enough to make a proper assessment of their conservation status. In South Africa, research has largely focused on great whites and smaller coastal species, leaving sevengills as a mystery.

Studies from California and Tasmania show that sevengills are highly mobile, capable of moving long distances in response to food availability and breeding cycles. It’s possible the False Bay sharks shifted elsewhere, temporarily or permanently. But without long-term monitoring, we are left guessing.

And yet, even in the face of this scientific uncertainty, the marketing machine rolls on, promising encounters that cannot be delivered.

Diver Anecdotes: The Ghost Dive

Speak to seasoned Cape Town divers and you’ll hear the same story. “I remember the first time I did a cowshark dive at Millers, we saw so many sharks in one dive. They were huge, confident, almost brushing past us. I still think about it."

We often hear from divers who felt cheated after their dives in Cape Town, having been promised to dive with Sevengill sharks but only found out afterwards that the sharks have been gone for nearly a decade. Some even say that their operators claims it was unusual to not see sharks on the day and even trying to entice them to book for a second day.

Local instructors tell a similar story: divers arriving with sky-high expectations, only to leave frustrated as their company had promised something they can't deliver. Some divers vow never to book with that operator again. Some take to forums and online review platforms to air their disappointment.

This isn’t just a minor letdown. It damages reputations, relationships, and ultimately, Cape Town’s standing in the global dive community.

The Ethics of Wildlife Tourism

At the heart of this issue is a bigger question: what are the ethics of selling wildlife experiences when the wildlife is no longer there?

Adventure tourism relies on the thrill of the encounter. Whale watching, shark cage diving, gorilla trekking — all of these activities promise proximity to iconic species. But the best operators manage expectations carefully. They remind guests that wildlife is wild, unpredictable, and never guaranteed. Where poor operators use it as an excuse to the false promise.

The problem with sevengill shark dives in Cape Town is not that the animals are unpredictable — it’s that they are completely absent. Operators aren’t just overselling the odds; they’re selling an encounter that hasn’t happened in years.

That’s more than a grey area. It’s a breach of trust.

Selling the Past vs. Celebrating the Present

Here’s the thing: Cape Town doesn’t need to cling to the ghost of sevengill sharks to attract divers. Our waters are alive with biodiversity:

Towering kelp forests that rival any rainforest for beauty.
Colorful reef systems teeming with nudibranchs, fish, and invertebrates.
Historic shipwrecks, each with its own story and marine life.
Offshore expeditions where pelagic species like Blue and Mako sharks or tuna — make surprise appearances.

scuba diver exploring a wreck in false bay

The kelp forests alone have become a global icon, celebrated in films like My Octopus Teacher. Divers leave blown away by the experience of floating among giant kelp stalks, sunlight streaming down like stained glass in a cathedral.

That’s what dive tourism should be selling — the raw, honest adventure of what’s really there today. Not the fading memory of sevengill sharks at Millers Point.

Why Honesty Matters

When dive shops and tour companies mislead divers, they erode trust. And once trust is broken, it’s hard to win back. Divers are a passionate, connected community. Word spreads quickly. One disappointed diver’s online review or post can ripple across forums and social media, influencing dozens of future bookings.

More importantly, honesty builds credibility. When operators are upfront about what divers can realistically expect, those divers are more likely to return, recommend, and trust future experiences.

Wildlife tourism done right celebrates the unpredictability of the ocean. Every dive becomes an exploration, not a guaranteed show. That’s the mindset Cape Town should foster.

Final Thought: Stop Selling Ghosts

The sevengill sharks of Millers Point may one day return. Ecosystems shift, prey populations recover, and sometimes species surprise us by coming back when we least expect it. If that happens, it will be a cause for celebration.

But until then, we must stop pretending. To sell “sevengill shark dives” in False Bay today is to sell a ghost. It’s dishonest, it’s damaging, and it’s unnecessary.

Cape Town diving is world-class. The kelp forests alone are worth the trip. We don’t need smoke and mirrors — we need integrity.

Divers deserve the truth. And the ocean deserves better than being used as a stage set for marketing spin.

Sevengill Shark Diving