Hilton Head charter captain tags 10-foot great white shark days before typical season’s end
A week had passed and Chip Michalove couldn’t stop obsessing over the great white shark he’d seen. The one he thought got away.
Ten feet long and nearly 1,000 pounds, the infamous fish circled his boat days ago, toying with the Hilton Head charter captain. It took the bait then, but Michalove missed the hookset to then get it tagged.
“We were so aggravated,” said Michalove, deemed the great white shark whisperer for his knack at finding and tagging sharks off Hilton Head. “Every single day, I have thought about this loss.”
Is it still in that spot? Michalove asked himself over and and over. Yes, the shark was. And unusually so.
With March nearly gone, Michalove was late. Most of his days start before sunrise, with a wake-up call around 4:30 a.m. But Monday was different.
“We shoved off a little after 9 a.m., we had lines in at 10,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time I targeted a white shark and didn’t have the baits in the water at sunrise.”
Late March was a stretch.
Typically, water miles off the coast of Hilton Head is too murky green by now and great whites are busy migrating north. It’s a time of year for sharks that Michalove compared to I-95’s congestion during Thanksgiving, and for scientists and shark enthusiasts, the “bottom of the ninth.”
Conditions aside, the group, which included a family from Minnesota, took a chance. Three hours later, Michalove’s fixation came circling to quell the questions on his mind.
The 10-foot, 9-year-old glory, with seal scratches on its head, took the bait. And this time, Michalove didn’t miss the hookset. Great whites with their girth and intelligence don’t hold back when caught, moving like freight trains once they chomp the bait, they spin around and then charge at the boat.
There’s never time to relax, Michalove said. It’s the antithesis of what most fishermen seek. But for the adept fisherman, it pumps his adrenaline so rapidly, he doesn’t even bother putting his hand to his heart. It beats out of his chest.
On Monday afternoon, pulled to the side of the boat with one motor in gear to ensure oxygen was still moving through the shark’s gills, the crew managed to get acoustic and PSAT tags attached to the female great white that would later be named Reese.
It’s a process that took about 10 minutes, but for Michalove it felt like two days.
She was too squirrelly to allow for a third tag. But between the two tags, biologists like the “shark godfather” Greg Skomal with the Massachusetts Division of Marine Fisheries can track Reese’s movements. The saltiness of water she prefers. And if she hauls it to New England, where receivers off the beach monitor the acoustic tag, they’ll know to alert for when Reese enters certain waters.
“It’s almost like playing God,” Michalove said. “Like you’re learning things you’re not supposed to know.”
Catch. Tag. Release. It’s a twofer.
Michalove can better identify where to tag the “baddest fish in the ocean,” and the science community can study the vulnerable animals. After all, only a select number of people are certified to tag great whites.
The journey didn’t begin smoothly seven years ago. Much like the recent chase for Reese.
“The first three I hooked, I lost because I couldn’t figure out the right tackle,” he said. “I couldn’t call anybody up the street or in Charleston and say, ‘How are you landing a 2,000 pound fish?’”
He’s learned how over the years, tagging four this season, including Reese. But don’t ask. Michalove will not disclose the bait he uses or where he fishes.
And he assures, there’s no need to worry. South Carolina’s small waves, lack of seals and murky surf means the sharks won’t be making their way to swimming waters.
A shark by any other name
Reese isn’t a name pulled from a hat.
Neither were his other tagged sharks, such as Hunter, named after a Bluffton High School student back in 2017. Then there was Bill, labeled for a Hilton Head island fisherman Bill Masters, who died after fighting cancer in November 2020.
Reese holds similar depth. A longtime family friend’s daughter, Reese (whose last name is withheld for privacy), is hospitalized in Kentucky and is going through a rough patch, Michalove said. One he said is an “hour-by-hour” struggle.
When Reese, a high school senior, heard the news that Michalove had named the sleekest, strongest fish in the sea after her, she smiled.
And that’s what Michalove wants. He knows how it feels to question whether you’ll lose everything.
When Hurricane Matthew hit in 2016, he evacuated to Asheville. Would his house survive? His boat? What about his business — Outcast Sport Fishing — predicated on taking people out on the water?
Amid the uncertainty immediately following Hurricane Matthew, a text from an unknown number sent a ding to his phone.
“I’m your charter for tomorrow. And I know it’s not going to happen. And watching all this on the news has broken my heart,” the 2016 text read.
The customer paid the hundreds for a trip they knew they’d never take, yet never asked for a refund. It changed Michalove’s perspective.
“It made me realize there’s more to life than doing everything for yourself,” he said.
This story was originally published March 30, 2022 at 4:50 AM with the headline "Hilton Head charter captain tags 10-foot great white shark days before typical season’s end."
