Days Five & Six: Dancing With Mantas

There was never any doubt in my mind that the first time I’d see a manta underwater I’d get emotional. That I would get over taken by a swell of happy tears. On the first day, on the first dive, one glides right by me. Right on cue the emotions well up — a mix of awe and happiness that I get to witness these beautiful creatures up close. Socorro mantas are special. They are inquisitive and very friendly, willing to come up close to divers and interact.

Diving with a single manta — one who chooses to come close to investigate — is magical. But seeing three at the same time is otherworldly. Watching them dance and glide with each other, as though performing an underwater ballet.

But the true manta magic occurs on the final two days of diving.

On the final two dives of our last two days we are treated to a spectacular show. Three mantas, gliding in from the blue, to grace us with their presence. One comes in slowly at first and of course it’s a thrill. But in the distance, we can see two others — their silhouettes swaying in the water column. It’s an incredible sight. The fly through the water, two mantas following the first. Several groups of divers in the water — all thirty of us — are mesmerized by the sight in front of us. How lucky we are, to see not one, not two, but three mantas. And to have them so curious they’ll come in for close encounters.

At some point time seems to stop as one gorgeous female, with a wingspan of at least twenty feet, glides in right in front of me. She comes up short in the water to show me her entire underside before gliding down making eye contact and the flying right over me, nearly skimming the top of my head. The moment is something far beyond my wildest dreams for encounters with a manta. It feels, very much, that in that moment that one manta and I connected on a very basic level.

Hours later, other divers tell me they saw the encounter. Tell me they are jealous. Tell me it was incredible to witness. Hours later, I am still riding the high of that encounter.

My heart physically aches a little when the dive is over, knowing that I won’t get to see these beautiful creatures anytime soon. But this encounter will be burned into my mind — recalling it when I need a dose of manta magic.

Isla Guadalupe

*Note: This is a revised post from an old blog of mine. The trip was taken in 2015

The sun is just setting over the horizon as I get my first look at Isla Guadalupe. The dim light and low hanging clouds create an almost primeval atmosphere which is magnified when I remember what’s swimming just below the boat, Great Whites.

My fellow boat mates and I made the 20+ hour trip from San Diego to the island in the hopes of spending some face-to-face time with them and we’re bursting with anticipation to get in the water. But we have to wait until the second day when the sun is up and we’ve all been given our safety briefing. During dinner the conversation turns to sharks, there are a few who’ve made this trip before and are captivating the “first-timers” with stories from previous trips. We can only hope we come back with stories equally as enthralling.

The first day starts off slow, but the anticipation is palpable. Each of us is vying for position as we wait for the cages to lower into the water—once in, we get a complete 360 degree view. At first it’s an endless expanse of blue that occasionally is interrupted by a tuna swimming through my field of vision. My head is on a swivel, though, looking for any shadow or hint of an incoming shark. The minutes tick by and nothing. We strike out. At least for the first dive.

Each person is scheduled to make at least 4 throughout the day, more if someone doesn't show up at their scheduled time and you're able to steal their spot. By mid-morning, the sharks have joined us but they are coy. Coming in just close enough to make their presence known but not close enough to get a good look (or a good picture). With them so far off in the distance, I've taken to standing atop the cages instead of remaining inside in the hope of getting a better look. But the sharks remain elusive, much more wary (it would seem) of us then we are of them.  

Day two starts much the same way, takes a little bit before the sharks show up but there's a different kind of electricity in the air. Bruce, a 17 foot male, arrives at mid-day to ramps things up. Suddenly, the whole dynamic underwater has changed. He's not shy, coming in for close passes and rushing the surface to get the tuna the crew has dangled as an enticement. Those in the water are thrilled with the interactions we're all getting great photos. Bruce gets more confident making closer passes, eventually getting so close that his long fins slice through our cage.

At this point, most of us are keeping all limbs inside the cages, but one diver is still hanging out trying to get just the right shot. In a split second, Bruce rushes the cage, the diver being pulled inside just in time, bites it and shakes it like a rag doll. That diver got one hell of a shot. Evening descends and were all tired but happy with the days events.

Our third day starts slow and remains so throughout the day. We've been joined by another dive company and they're trying to entice the sharks to their cages. It's an anti-climactic end after the adrenaline enduing action from the previous day. It's not long before crews are pulling cages from the water for the final time and we're making our way back towards Mexico and eventually San Diego.