That night. Still indescribable but I'll try.
I get back on to the boat, my pulse slowing, but not much. I throw off my snorkel and mask and exclaim, "that was literally the coolest thing I have ever seen!" The veteran divers who were with us didn't seem too impressed, they must have seen it all before. Still, I couldn't believe my eyes, continuously slapping myself to make sure that what had just happened was real.
It was, a one ton under water bird was less than three feet away from me, mouth agape and all*.
It is only about five thirty when I got out and we aren't going back in until nighttime, I go to my favorite spot, on top of the boat. I sit there, eating my Macadamia nut cookie (provided by the crew) and drinking a cup of water, letting it seep around my mouth stinging my chapped lips.
Eventually, I let the gentle rocking of the boat lull me to sleep. I woke abruptly, my brother huddled over me telling me we have to be town in the cabin area to be briefed on our next dive: The manta night dive.
Now while I was sleeping, a bunch of dive boats from the same small boat harbor we came from anchored in our cove. By now, in this little cove, there were probably 200 people, all diving/snorkeling the same spot.
I had a quick conversation with my mom and the result is me saying, "how lame is that."
It seemed like it was lame, little did I know that the more people there were the better. See we were all taking flashlights into the water so that we can actually see while night diving/snorkeling, but what I didn't know was that the lights also attract plankton, which attract manta rays, what I'm there to see.
Mike basically tells us not to touch the mantas and we all say we won't, in that monotone voice, the kind kindergartners when they are not listening.
Finally he tells us we are allowed to go in but the only rule when we were down there was that we must always leave the flashlight on to make it easier to find in case you dropped it into the pitch black abyss that was below us.
I get my wetsuit on, easily, then getting my boots on were a little harder. I got my mask on, tightened it, got my flippers on, tightened them, and I was good to go.
I pull the flashlight lanyard around my wrist as tight as it can be, step onto the back of the boat, and make the plunge.
*It should be noted that Manta Rays cannot eat anything bigger than plankton, they are filter feeders, nonetheless, it's surprising to see it coming at you.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Search for the Rays: Part III
Right when I say them, my brain snapped into action. I furiously looked around for this ray, I knew it was a Manta. Even though it would have been there prematurely (they were supposed to come during the night for easy plankton feeding), I knew it was.
I looked all around, throwing my head side to side, free-diving to 20 plus feet, even taking off my mask to get a better view above the water because they could see it pretty obviously from the boat. I didn't see anything.
I was about to give up my search but I decided to take one last look before going into the boat. I glimpse to my left, nothing, I glimpse to my right, nothi -- thrashing. Thrashing around on the top of the water, must at least be something interesting.
My dad and I venture out, intrepid explorers on a mission. We find exactly what we were looking for. A baby Manta playing on the top of the water. We cautiously go over and he senses us (he can't see too well but knows we are there) and starts moving towards us.
When an animal that weighs about a ton makes a bee-line for you, you move out of the way.
I make a short free dive and even in the midst of all this excitement, remember to blow out during my ascent, careful not to pop a lung.
After that, the Manta swam away. My heart was pounding at three thousand beats a second, I couldn't even comprehend what had just happened to me. I had just seen a Manta ray less than three feet away from me, if only I knew that this little encounter was really only foreplay to the events that would happen that night.
I looked all around, throwing my head side to side, free-diving to 20 plus feet, even taking off my mask to get a better view above the water because they could see it pretty obviously from the boat. I didn't see anything.
I was about to give up my search but I decided to take one last look before going into the boat. I glimpse to my left, nothing, I glimpse to my right, nothi -- thrashing. Thrashing around on the top of the water, must at least be something interesting.
My dad and I venture out, intrepid explorers on a mission. We find exactly what we were looking for. A baby Manta playing on the top of the water. We cautiously go over and he senses us (he can't see too well but knows we are there) and starts moving towards us.
When an animal that weighs about a ton makes a bee-line for you, you move out of the way.
I make a short free dive and even in the midst of all this excitement, remember to blow out during my ascent, careful not to pop a lung.
After that, the Manta swam away. My heart was pounding at three thousand beats a second, I couldn't even comprehend what had just happened to me. I had just seen a Manta ray less than three feet away from me, if only I knew that this little encounter was really only foreplay to the events that would happen that night.
Search for the Rays: Part II
After a day of hiking all up and down craters from Volcanoes those will be talked about on a different post. Also the morning of the next day was taken up by the visiting of many different waterfalls and rope swings but that will be talked about on another occasion as well.
Anyways, getting sidetracked, after all that, I go on the dive boat a second time, this time to snorkel. At night.
We come out on the Mai Loa III, I sit on the top of the boat of course, the warm, humid, Hawai'i air whipping my face. I didn't care, I was a man on a mission, I was going to see Manta Rays tonight. We get out to the cove at about four, the Mantas come a callin' at about seven.
I snorkel around for about an hour, saw a moray, some long-nosed butterflies, triggerfish, nothing too amazing.
Then, as I'm swimming against the current back in, I nonchalantly look up at the boat and I see my brother, mother and mike all wide-eyed, making that trademark waving motion that was the signal for any type of ray.
Anyways, getting sidetracked, after all that, I go on the dive boat a second time, this time to snorkel. At night.
We come out on the Mai Loa III, I sit on the top of the boat of course, the warm, humid, Hawai'i air whipping my face. I didn't care, I was a man on a mission, I was going to see Manta Rays tonight. We get out to the cove at about four, the Mantas come a callin' at about seven.
I snorkel around for about an hour, saw a moray, some long-nosed butterflies, triggerfish, nothing too amazing.
Then, as I'm swimming against the current back in, I nonchalantly look up at the boat and I see my brother, mother and mike all wide-eyed, making that trademark waving motion that was the signal for any type of ray.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Search for the rays: Part I
Mai Loa III, that's all I see when I resurface from the depths of the ocean. I whip off my mask and the warm, salty air hits my face full force. It feels amazing. I climb up the ladder welcomed by Mike, the captain of the 30 foot boat that is the Mai Loa III. He takes my BCD and tank and I strip off the rest of my wetsuit. Of course I'm the only one on the boat, I had to go up first because I still have trouble with conserving my air underwater. If I see something amazing, I'll start breathing faster, taking those shorter breaths it what kills you. Thank god I saw something exciting. A scorpion rockfish. My brother, King Kenamehamehe, pointed it out to me while we were going down a hill per say. We both stop and look at it, me breathing hard, of course.
We were able to coax it to open up its fins and not stay glued to the ground, and oh what a sight it was. You see a fish that basically blends in with the rocks beneath you and then it has these dazzling orange fins, almost seems like you can't miss it. It swims away slowly and we just admire natures sheer beauty.
Almost seconds after the rockfish disappears, I hear the clank clank clank of someone tapping on the back of their tank, the universal sign to get someones attention underwater. We look towards our dive guide and she is making a waving motion with both of her arms and then points into the turquoise water straight ahead. An Eagle Ray. An animal that weighs almost a ton yet moves oh so gracefully in the water. It seems virtually impossible. I just saw it for a second, and then it was gone. That was the last I'd see of the rays on this particular dive trip, but definitely not the last on the whole trip.
We were able to coax it to open up its fins and not stay glued to the ground, and oh what a sight it was. You see a fish that basically blends in with the rocks beneath you and then it has these dazzling orange fins, almost seems like you can't miss it. It swims away slowly and we just admire natures sheer beauty.
Almost seconds after the rockfish disappears, I hear the clank clank clank of someone tapping on the back of their tank, the universal sign to get someones attention underwater. We look towards our dive guide and she is making a waving motion with both of her arms and then points into the turquoise water straight ahead. An Eagle Ray. An animal that weighs almost a ton yet moves oh so gracefully in the water. It seems virtually impossible. I just saw it for a second, and then it was gone. That was the last I'd see of the rays on this particular dive trip, but definitely not the last on the whole trip.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)