Meet the adrenaline-junkie poacher hunter and her loyal side-kick, Blu

"I'm not actually sure how it happened … It's just one of those things that unfolded in front of me."

That is what Nicci Swartz from security company Dark Water Ops said on Friday about her five years of adrenaline-pumping action — fighting abalone poachers and high-speed cars chases.

"I still don't know how the last five years have gone by."

Swartz decided to take a break, along with her crime-fighting German shepherd Blu, to spend more time with her family. But she is unsure how she is going to unwind.

"It's very strange, I won't lie. I've just been to Checkers and then all sorts of stuff that I would normally be doing," Swartz said, laughing.

"Yesterday [Thursday] was full of tears. Lots and lots of tears saying goodbye."

Swartz's husband, Survivor SA winner Tom Swartz, moved from East London to Port Elizabeth at the end of 2013 to help start an anti-poaching unit at Cape Recife Lighthouse.

"I've actually got a degree in fine arts, so I thought I was going to start painting there and I'll starting sending off some paintings to Cape Town and that sort of thing. And the next thing I kind of got roped in."

Swartz started helping out with intelligence gathering by taking photographs in early 2014 before she ended up managing the unit after her husband left.

"From literally making them coffee in the mornings and taking the odd photo, I ended up managing the anti-poaching unit."

She said she had to really prove herself as a woman alongside men who had worked in Iraq, Afghanistan, the police's K9 and gang units.

She pushed to do the K9 training because she thought "it was the most incredible thing" to work with a dog every day. Eventually someone donated Blu when she was six weeks' old.

"I trained her from then by rolling a ball for her. Eventually, she was all German [shepherd] and about 18 months later we found ourselves up in Pretoria doing K9 training."

Swartz said Blu is her "guardian angel".

"Most of the poaching happens in the dark, at night, on Marine Drive. When you run out there, there is no light. You don't know what is in the bush next to you and there have been countless, countless times when Blu saved my bacon," she said.

"As she got out of the back of the bakkie, all the poachers would get into their vehicle and roll up their windows. She's quite a frightening dog but at home she's the complete opposite, she's completely normal. She just knows that as soon as she gets on her leash it's time to work."

One of their highlights was Blu snagging seven tons of abalone in a container at the Port Elizabeth harbour.

Swartz said they once received a tip-off about possible poachers. They parked and she casually took Blu out of the car.

"It's pitch, pitch dark, thinking we've missed the vehicle … I was just casually standing there with the leash wrapped around my wrist and the next minute Blu took off in the direction of the bush. She literally dragged me on my knees down this gravel road."

Swartz said her job was "awesome" but is leaving because she struggles to switch off.

"While I'm lying in my bed at night, I'm thinking, who's out there? Who's poaching? What's happening?

"Your mind never switches off. We're a small team, so we work overtime, all the time, and we do it because we're committed."

She said fighting poaching is impossible without tip-offs from the public.

"We couldn't do it without the public's information," she says.