Chris Murray, a 54-year-old personal injury lawyer from Manchester, set out in October 2025 to conquer one of the world’s most daunting open-water swims: the Catalina Channel. Stretching 20 miles between California’s Catalina Island and the Los Angeles shoreline, this notorious passage is famous for its strong currents, bone-chilling water, and the ever-present possibility of encounters with the ocean’s most formidable predators. Swimmers typically plunge into the darkness after nightfall, aiming to avoid the fierce afternoon winds that whip across the channel. For Murray, however, the challenge took a harrowing turn when he became the rare victim of a shark attack—an incident that would spark renewed debate about how humans coexist with these ancient marine hunters.
According to RollOnFriday, Murray had been in the water for nearly three hours, pushing through the cold and the current, when, around 1:30 a.m., he felt a sudden, sharp bite on his left hand. In the pitch black, he realized a juvenile great white shark—estimated at about one meter long—had latched onto him. "I shook it off," Murray recalled. "And then, I felt another attack and a clamp on my right foot." The way sharks hunt, he explained, is to latch on and shake, so he had to kick the predator away with his other foot.
Escorted by a dive boat aptly named the Bottom Scratcher, Murray’s ordeal didn’t end with the first bite. The crew, who had been keeping a close watch, quickly shone a powerful searchlight into the water and spotted the shark circling back for another attempt. "They put the big searchlight from the top of the boat on to the water and they could see it was coming again for another bite, so I was told to get out," Murray said. As the shark raced in for a third strike, the lawyer scrambled onto the safety of the boat.
Once aboard, the crew bandaged his wounds as best they could before transferring him to a Los Angeles Fire Department vessel. Murray was rushed to the hospital, where he received 20 stitches in his hand and more extensive treatment for his foot. Remarkably, he reported feeling no pain—just a surge of adrenaline and, perhaps most surprisingly, a sense of annoyance. "I didn't feel pain, just adrenaline," he told RollOnFriday. "I didn't even feel shocked. I felt annoyed."
The attack cut short Murray’s bid to complete the so-called ‘triple crown of open-water swimming,’ a feat that also includes a 28.5-mile swim around Manhattan and another grueling distance. He had spent six months training daily, sometimes twice a day, and described the effort as both physically demanding and financially draining. "I knew that was going to spoil it," he admitted. Still, he counts himself lucky: "I was very lucky it didn’t hit any artery or tendons. It was over very quickly." Murray expects to make a full recovery in a few weeks, though he’s currently getting around on crutches.
Despite the traumatic interruption, Murray’s swim wasn’t in vain. He managed to raise over £2,600 for UNICEF through sponsorships, adding to his impressive fundraising record. Just two years prior, he swam from Spain to Morocco across the Strait of Gibraltar, raising £3,800 for children in Ukraine. His resilience and commitment to charitable causes have earned him respect both in and out of the water.
The rarity of the incident adds to its significance. According to RollOnFriday, there have only been about a dozen documented shark bites in the Los Angeles region since 1950, and never before during this particular swimming challenge. "Swims of this nature always carry risks, but there had never been a recorded shark attack during this particular challenge," Murray noted. He expressed gratitude that his attacker was a curious juvenile rather than a fully grown adult great white, reflecting, "The experience has given me a deeper appreciation for those who suffer injury, and I’m truly thankful for the support I received throughout."
Murray’s story, while extraordinary, is part of a much broader conversation about the relationship between humans and great white sharks—a debate that’s especially heated in places like Australia. As detailed by Spiked, great whites have been protected in Australian waters for the past 25 years, a move that has sparked controversy among fishermen, locals, and some policymakers. The statistics are sobering: in the past five years alone, Australia has seen 21 fatal shark attacks, with great whites responsible for 19 of them. Dozens more non-lethal attacks have left victims with permanent, life-altering injuries.
Despite these numbers, Australian politicians and experts have consistently refused to lift protections or authorize a cull of great white sharks. The rationale? Many environmentalists and members of the public revere these apex predators, describing them as "majestic," "graceful," and "intelligent"—labels that appear frequently on social media and in popular literature. The Australian Museum in Sydney, for instance, has even described sharks as "ecosystem engineers" that play a crucial role in maintaining the health of marine environments.
Fred Pawle, writing for Spiked, argues that this reverence for sharks comes at a cost. He points out that other native animals, like kangaroos and koalas, are routinely culled to keep populations in check—often without much public outcry. Yet, when it comes to great whites, any suggestion of population control is met with fierce resistance. Pawle tested public attitudes by wearing a billboard at Manly Beach in Sydney, inviting support for a shark cull. The response was unanimous: not a single passerby supported the idea. Most believed that the ocean is the shark’s home and that humans must accept the risks of entering their domain.
This perspective, Pawle contends, has broader implications for Australian society and tourism. While the odds of a tourist being attacked by a shark remain vanishingly small, the perception of danger can influence travel decisions. Competing destinations like Thailand and Indonesia offer similar attractions at lower prices, and without the added anxiety of shark encounters. "Why would anyone bother going the greater distance to Australia, where there is an added risk of encountering one of what the locals call ‘men in grey suits’?" he asks.
The debate ultimately comes down to values: should human life and enjoyment take precedence over the protection of a dangerous, unpredictable animal? Or does reverence for the natural world, even in its most fearsome forms, define a modern, environmentally conscious nation? For swimmers like Chris Murray, the risks are real, but so too is the sense of awe and respect these creatures inspire. His experience, both traumatic and transformative, serves as a reminder of the delicate balance between adventure and safety, conservation and caution.
As Murray recovers and plans his next swim, his story continues to ripple through communities on both sides of the globe, challenging assumptions about risk, nature, and the enduring allure of the open sea.