As we arrived at Kahole Bay, the sun was setting behind us . The sun set was a beautiful blend of oranges, reds, yellows, and gold, slowly sinking into the ocean as it was by far the best one since our arrival in Hawaii . The sky was lit up as if the scene were painted on glass that glowed like a bright light shining through it from behind. Bright, but muted. Exhilarating, but relaxing. Ah….Hawaii!
As it turned out there were only four scuba divers on this trip, the rest were all snorkelers. Prior to our adventure, our scuba dive master, Jed, briefed us of what to expect . Jed spoke of adventure. Jed spoke of danger. Jed spoke of giant mantas swimming over, around, and yes, sometimes even on top of us. He said sometimes a manta will just stop and rest on top of your forehead. Well if that wasn’t enough to give us the heebie-jeebies Jed kept on going.
He was going to lead us down into the darkness, to a place where these giant creatures have gathered for decades, maybe even centuries. This dark place Jed called the Manta Ray’s Campfire Ring. Instead of fire in the center there were very bright lights which attracted the mantas … and whatever else was in the vicinity… and hungry. Jed informed us after getting us to the camp fire ring he would be leaving us there all alone and not returning until later. WHAT??? OK. Let’s review. This is a Night dive. It will be Pitch black. We will be left alone in the ocean., the Pacific Ocean then yet. Danger! Light beacon… And our dive master was just going to leave us there?
Then it got real interesting. I don’t know how you feel about snakes or eels, but eels look an awful lot like snakes to me. Jed-i the master, told us that the mantas of old kept a guardian at the camp. His name was Frank the Eel and was a real slippery character. Our Jed-i Master told us, ”Do not fear the eel. He sneaks up on you and slithers about. Around your waist, up your back. Sometimes perching for a snack. On your shoulders, around your neck, and he will stay there for a meal. For Frank’s the guardian of this place here.” With those words of wisdom passed onto us, now there were only two. Two scuba divers, me and my honey. We got kitted up and slid into the dark Pacific. Flashlight in one hand, camera in the other. Some how we managed to get submerged, found our Jed-i-master and started our journey through the inky blackness of the ocean at night. The ocean is a very different place at night then during the day. If no lights are on, there is no sense of direction what so ever, just total, impenetrable nothingness. Lucky for us, we had flashlights, Jed-i had flashlights, all the boats, snorkelers and campfires had lights. The beams of life cut through the blackness like a dull knife blade and did not go beyond the wee tool’s capabilities. We might have been able to see 2-3 feet ahead of us, and our side vision was extremely compromised. But its funny how things work. Since it was so very dark, we could see and follow our Jed-i-master’s saber yards ahead of us. He seemed quite oblivious to us and kept up a furious pace to our destination. I think he might have been afraid we would chicken out if he gave us time to think about things since we were now in the belly of the big, dark, ocean. Once my nerves calmed down a bit and the little hairs on the back of my neck felt normal again, I started shining my light at the sea bed
where daytime creatures maybe asleep… or night predators awake. Not much happening. A fish here or there. Squirrel fish. Don’t remember the others. Looked up for Jed and, well, he certainly wasn’t looking to see where we were. Big kicks, big kicks, to catch up with our master Jed-I. Just then Jed-I stopped and pointed to some rocks on the ocean floor where we were to make camp. The camp lights in front of us were already on, serving as a beacon for the mantas. There were already hundreds of silver fish there, about 10-12 inches long, swimming back and forth in the light beam. I looked around to check for sharks and didn’t see anything BIG. Not even any other divers. Now Jed-i was gone, so it was just me and my man, all alone, on the bottom of the ocean, in front of a beacon to say,” Come and get it big guys.” But no worries, after all, that’s why we were there. Now, to sit down and enjoy the show. I picked this nice large boulder I thought could accommodate my backside and tank and tried to sit down. Oops. Overshot the boulder and kept falling. Now its kind of decision time…Quick…Camera or flashlight, camera or flashlight. Falling, falling… Flashlight lost as my left palm hit something sharp on the bottom of the ocean. I thought it was a sea urchin, but I had more immediate problems at hand (no pun intended) and at least I didn’t fall on my face. Since sitting on my preferred rock didn’t work out, I went to plan B; kneeling. OK, plan C; sitting right on the ocean floor with my legs stretched out in front of me. Ok, that’s not working either. Have to go with plan D; … Now wait a minute, I didn’t have a plan D. Where was my Jed-I-master? No where to be seen! I had to try plan C again. There was no going back to my other alphabet plans, so I tried to sit again. Still bouncing around. Needed more stability. Try to relax. Exhale. Swaying with the invisible surge. Still too buoyant. Then I did come up with a plan D; To wrap my legs around the boulder in front of me and use it like an anchor. It worked! Finally settled and I could check on my honey. He was kneeling beside me, calmly. Looking around, we were the only people there. So there we sat, in front of our camp fire light, camera ready in one hand, the other holding our beacon straight up in the air. Silver fish were still circling in the lighted zone. Who knows what was beyond our limited vision. So there the two of us sat, all alone.
Curt was the first one to spot it. Our first manta ray sighting! From out of the darkness, out of the black, came a creature of the night. Curt squealed like a little school girl making me aware of its presence. It was huge! It looked like something drawn by Stephen King. As it glided soundlessly through the water, its toothless mouth opened, letting us look into its very being. It looked like a headless pirate came back to life to roam the ocean for eternity. All that was left of the poor bloke was an appendage less torso. A chest cavity, empty of contents. But we knew better for this empty torso had wings! Curt and I stayed in front of our camp fire, enjoying the show. One, two, three and four of the gentle giants glided in front of us, doing a beautiful ballet. Then it seemed as though they left us. So there we sat, awaiting their return. I don’t know who noticed it first. Maybe we realized it at the same time, but it appeared we were sitting at the wrong campfire! As we turned our goggle covered eyes behind us, we realized there was a much bigger, better show going on. Curt managed to turn around toward the action, but I was kind of stuck to the ocean’s floor with my anchor securely gripped between my legs. Oh my GOD! (Curt said this is not swearing cause he really meant it!) We were simply in awe of them. Several times we thought they were to engulf us in their gigantic plankton feeding mouths, only to be missed by inches or even bumped into! What an experience! I recommend this adventure to all, and to all a good night.
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A very entertaining recollection. Jed-i masters and manta rays *on your forehead*. And who could forget about the squirrel fish?
From a pure story-telling perspective, though, I thought the ending could have been a little stronger. We’re introduced to this problem of being in the wrong campfire, but it doesn’t quite seem to matter, somehow.
Otherwise, good story.