From the journal of Alec Galloway –
The first time I saw Grace was onstage. I had traveled from the Bay area down to Monterey to hear her speak about great white sharks. The topic was enough to mesmerize the boy in me—I’ve long been fascinated with Carcharodon Carcharias and as an underwater filmmaker have had several opportunities to document the elegant and always frightening fish—but I won’t lie that getting a chance to see Dr. Grace Mann in person was filled with a healthy dose of male appreciation.
I guess I should back up. While this was the first time I would be in the same room with Grace, she’d been on my radar long before that. I had read a paper she’d co-authored a few years back about an early prototype of her shark sonar array, and even then, I’d thought the idea of tracking sharks with artificial intelligence inside a specified grid had merit. Later, when a photo of her freediving with a male great white shark off the coast of Oahu went viral, I was filled with equal parts terror and admiration. Her passion for sharks was evident, and her poise while in the water indicated a level of bravery reserved for very few. And if I’m being totally honest, my respect quickly veered into crush-territory. So when the opportunity came my way to possibly film a documentary about her, I was immediately interested. But it turned out Grace wasn’t.
I’d heard about the project from an old surfing buddy of mine, Brad Michaels, who happened to be Grace’s ex. Michaels had been, and still was, an ass. Grace wasn’t too keen on him, and that sentiment had been transferred to me, causing her to reject my application for the documentary three times. In a last-ditch effort, I came to her lecture to meet her in person and plead my case, and I was nervous. The last time I’d had these many butterflies around a girl was fifth grade when Lisa Jones agreed to meet me behind a dumpster for a kiss (which never happened because I chickened out). Not that I was looking to kiss Grace Mann. I wanted the job. Period. Yeah, that’s what I told myself at the time.
Her lecture encompassed the work that the California Marine Institute (CMI) had conducted a few years ago with captive juvenile great white sharks. Grace was thorough, informative, and I knew immediately her easy charm and intelligence would shine on film. CMI was behind the doc—they wanted to feature the shark array testing she was about to embark on down in Baja Mexico—and although I had CMI in my court, Grace was still given final approval on who to hire.
At the end of her talk, while I was basking in the afterglow of hearing her speak, she managed to leave the small theater before I realized it. I barely caught up to her in the parking lot. It wasn’t how I envisioned our first in-face meeting, me trying to catch my breath and she having no idea who I was. Once I introduced myself, it didn’t get any better. I got the sense she was annoyed that I’d popped up unannounced. It was all or nothing, however, so I asked her to have a drink with me so that we could talk. I’m still surprised she said yes. We drove separate cars to a nearby pub called THE BULLDOG—prophetic because Grace is definitely stubborn—and our first encounter lasted about fifteen minutes, if that, but I gained a sliver of hope. She knew I’d recently been in South Africa filming great whites near Seal Island. She’d done her homework, and was even maybe a tiny bit curious about me. I was optimistic that I had a chance with her. A work chance, that is.
Hell, who was I kidding. I was a goner the minute I laid eyes on her.
Don't miss Alec and Grace's romance in the full-lenth novel, DEEP BLUE!