I jump into the cold water, wiping bubbles from the camera lens, checking and setting the white balance and locking the focus all while I am finning toward and checking the scene exploding in front of me. I am trying to work out where to start. In front of me I can see an immense ball of fish, numbers impossible to count, and the only words that can describe their state are "sheer panic," for they are being harried and hunted from every possible direction. I begin to roll the camera at this living ball of fish, for that's what it is, a "sardine bait ball."

We have been searching for this natural phenomenon for four weeks. We have only seen tantalizing glimpses of them up until now, but today is D day. Having said that, we have already been spoiled by snorkeling with humpback whales, inshore and offshore bottle-nosed dolphins, common dolphins and pan-tropical spotted dolphins, as well as diving with the occasional copper, dusky and ragged tooth sharks. All this, though, has just been eclipsed.

We have traveled much farther south to meet the sardines this year. They have failed to travel north up the Kwazulu-Natal coastline, as they normally do at this time of year, to where we have been waiting for them, searching for them and dreaming of them. Now we have found them, and more importantly, so have the thousands of common dolphins, cape gannets, dusky and copper sharks as well as the cape fur seals.

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I adjust my position and camera. The silvery ball in my camera monitor suddenly melts to the left, just as if you tipped a ball of mercury, as a pod of 15-20 common dolphins tear in from the right and wheel around the fish, emitting streams of bubbles to form a gaseous net. As the dolphins race past they pick off fish at the sides of the ball and push them upward to press them against the surface of the ocean. Within split seconds I feel as if I am back on some desolate Southeast Asian coral reef being bombed by dynamite fishermen, as extremely loud underwater explosions resonate through the water and literally shake my body. It takes me a few seconds to realize that this volley of explosions is the result of the tens of birds I now see swimming before me, trailing a silvery exhaust of bubbles as they swim after and jab at the panicking fish.

Suddenly there is a loud metal clang as my dive cylinder clashes with that of my safety diver behind me. A quick glance over my shoulder tells me he is working hard as he coolly and calmly pushes away the next round of guests to this highly movable and ultimate of fast-food outlets. Excited and driven by the frantic evasive maneuvers of the fish between dolphins and gannets, three- to four-meter copper and dusky sharks circle beneath and to the sides in some kind of holding pattern before swinging in to blindly chomp their way through the fish.

However, their curiosity of the two bubble blowers next to their dinner party has to be satisfied first. The bigger sharks calmly swim up and try to bump us with their snouts. They just want to find out what we are made of. The smaller ones dash up before turning at the last moment in some childlike game of chicken. That's of little conciliation for myself or Keith, my safety diver. We are here to document the sardine run through the eyes of a British underwater photographer who was bitten by a copper shark last year on his first encounter with a bait ball, so we eye the approaching set of jaws with respect.

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Having said that, this is the moment I have been dreaming of for so long. I turn back to the murderous assault unfolding before me, ignore the bumps of the passing sharks and concentrate on documenting the pursuit of their real victims. Anyway, my adrenaline levels are now so high that I don't think I would have even noticed losing a leg or safety diver unless it ruined my shot!

I'm in full-automated film mode now and scan the action for shots. It's virtually impossible. Just as one shot seems to finish there's another burst of action that leads straight into another. The visibility is getting worse, and I check the position of the sun, always trying to keep it behind me unless I sink down to silhouette the action against its glow.

It's snowing. Thousands of small silvery sardine scales cascade down and the water turns oily as the fish are mashed up by the diners. I feel as if I am in one of those souvenir snow domes you keep on your desk as a paperweight.

The bait ball is getting smaller and its motion increasingly frantic, becoming the true definition of mass hysteria if there ever was one. The dolphins are wheeling around in tight, highly organized packs, faster and faster. The bombing from the gannets above is incessant, and the sharks brush past, mouths agape, automatically chomping into the melee.

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