Swimming With Manta Rays

(and spinner dolphins)

We needed the hearty lunch because we were headed out for afternoon and night snorkeling in a bay about twenty minutes by boat north from the harbor, and weren't going to get back in time for dinner. We went out with Honu Sports (Captain Lisa and Mike) with four other people who were diving off the reef there. We'd picked this tour because of the small group size, but unfortunately that meant nothing once we got out there and the other boats started arriving with dozens of people all waiting for the manta rays. It was very, very crowded in the water, and I had to watch carefully around me so I didn't get whacked in the face with someone's fin. There must have been sixty other snorkelers in a space about the size of an Olympic pool; probably nearly as many divers, but they were far enough below us that there was no danger of being bonked in the head by an oxygen tank.

When we arrived in the afternoon, though, we had the place to ourselves. A pod of spinner dolphins drifted in and out of the bay, and I was lucky enough to be in the right place to get a close encounter with a small band of five big adults, and watched the whole group swim under me and out to the deep waters. When I put my head down into the water, I could hear them calling to each other, and as they came up the young dolphins leapt into the air.

As the sun started going down, we all got back into the boat, and Mom and John and I put on the wetsuits provided for us. Mom was a little nervous about the mantas, and even more nervous about going back in the water as she and John had seen a white-tipped shark off the north end of the bay. I wasn't so (un?)lucky, but did have a nice time swimming along with a large school of Hawaiian sergeantfish (Abudefduf abdominalis, and why that name I do not know) as they darted after plankton.

Plankton is what mantas feed on, and the manta divers try to attract them by shining lights to bring the plankton swarms, which brings the mantas in to feed. At this bay there's a permanent light cluster about 35-40 feet down that they switch on after sunset, and then all the dive/snorkel groups bring hand-held lights, or floating platforms or rings with lights shining down. I couldn't wait for the divers to get off the boat so jumped in off the side, and enjoyed the sight of the cone of light coming up from the bottom as the divers gathered around the bottom light, and a swarm of silvery fish swirled in among the bubbles, taking advantage of the plankton before the mantas arrived.

And they did arrive, eventually. The night before the videographer ($45 for a commemorative DVD) counted sixteen mantas but by the time we left there were only six. But still, six mantas are an impressive show all by themselves. Their backs look like brown velvet, but their bellies are white with brown spots. I got a close-up look at one of them that had come up to one of the floating lights, and did a backwards roll in the water right underneath me, close enough to touch, though you're forbidden to touch them because of their protective coating that's easily rubbed off. The mantas winged gracefully in and out of view, sometimes stopping in one place to do a continuous barrel roll as they filtered the plankton-rich seawater into their horizontal mouths, sometimes ghosting out into the darkness only to return to the light and the muffled watery cheers of the audience above and below. Even without the DVD I will remember this experience for a long, long time.