ABOUT THE BOOK
Against the Tide is a bold and exhilarating new memoir that plunges readers into the extraordinary life of Jean Napier Hattingh - a woman who carved her own path in one of the most male-dominated extreme sports on earth. Blending high-adrenaline adventure with deep personal reflections, the book traces Napier Hattingh’s journey through decades of diving, travel and record-breaking spearfishing achievements.
From thrilling underwater hunts to a harrowing near-death experience, Napier Hattingh’s story reveals not only the physical dangers of the deep, but the societal biases she had to push against to claim her place in the sport she loved. Her unapologetic voice and raw honesty challenge long-held gender norms in extreme sports, offering a powerful testament to courage, identity and perseverance.
With vivid storytelling and a wicked sense of humour, Against the Tide is a compelling read for anyone drawn to stories of adventure, passion, diving and the sea.
EXTRACT
1992 – 1997
Narrow escapes in the Transkei
The Transkei wild coast is a great diving area, and I spent a lot of time with friends spearing off Mbolompo Point and other spots to bag yellowtail, musselcracker and a vast variety of delicious eating fish. I had a house at Hole-in-the-wall, right at the beach, and regularly donned my diving gear, grabbed my gun and swam off for many hours of solitary diving. I enjoyed these times as I escaped reality for a while and experienced some deep meditative therapy, often returning with a stringer full of fish.
I’d started walking a lot as well, miles and miles, mostly alone, which set the tone for my continued love of hiking in wild places in future years.
One day, my friend Berto and I walked way down the coast with all our diving gear, intending to float back with the current, spearing fish along the way. We found what looked like a suitable entry point for a shore dive and clambered down a cliff onto a large rock ledge about six metres above a deep pool. We kitted up there and as I sat, ready to leap into the water with legs dangling over the edge, a massive wave rumbled in out of nowhere, lifted me up and slammed me against the back wall of the ledge. It swept me off and down into the now foaming sea below.
The force of the water surge washed both my flippers off my feet, tore the mask off my face, and somehow managed to break the barrel of my gun, presumably on a submerged rock. I was churned around helplessly in the seething pool, as if in a washing machine.
Berto jumped in to try to help me. Mercifully, another large swell lifted both of us over a section of jagged sandstone and deposited us onto the sand. With nothing hurt except for a bruised ego, I managed to retrieve my fins and mask further up the beach and, marvelling at the fact that I had been spared serious injury, carried on with the dive, supporting my buddy but with my gun out of commission.
I continued my underwater hockey pursuits and spent many days driving the 225 kilometres from Umtata to East London to play and train for the International Tripartite Games to be held in Wellington, New Zealand, in 1995. I was awarded my Springbok colours in the women’s masters team.
The trip was fantastic. Our team won the masters category and our women’s first team was also victorious. After the tournament, we spent a week travelling around North Island to see the sights, including the thermal pools at Rotorua and the Waitomo glowworm caves. On the way home, I spent a couple of glorious days snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef in Australia with teammate Cathy, followed by three days in Hong Kong, where Cathy went down with a bad flu, leaving me to walk the city alone, day and night, to see as much as possible. I represented South Africa again the following year in Durban.
One of my most memorable dives from my time in the Transkei was during the sardine run – an incredible annual phenomenon along southern Africa’s east coast, with millions of small sardines in great shoals darkening the sea for weeks on end. Folk gather along the beaches with all manner of receptacles to scoop up the fish as they wash ashore. Others take to their boats with nets and, of course, many species of fish, dolphins and sharks join in the feeding frenzy.
Diving off Mbolompo point, I was not expecting to get caught in the run, but a vast shoal suddenly moved in and surrounded me, filling the ocean from top to bottom as far as I could see. The skipper of the boat I was diving off spotted a whale far out at sea and, gunning the engine, roared off in hot pursuit leaving me to fend for myself in the sardine soup. I floated in a weak current parallel to a sheer cliff face which soared out of the ocean surface, with no chance of me getting out of the water had I wished to.
‘Oh well,’ I thought. ‘May as well make the most of the situation.’ During the next 15 minutes I counted over 60 sharks swimming directly underneath me. This included two Great Whites, which I estimated to be about six metres below my chest. Fortunately, they were all stuffed full of sardines and did not even give me the time of day so, although quite startled at first, I soon relaxed and thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle until the boat returned to check on me. Another lifetime memory was made that day.
I bagged many good fish on the Wild Coast during those years, including a monster 28-kilogram kob.
Against the Tide: A Memoir by Jean Napier Hattingh is published by Ulwandle Publishers. Available online and in all good bookstores. Extract provided by Janine Daniels (J Doubled Publicity).
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