Tales from the Logbook--Lobster Season Opening Night 1986

 

Most of the divers board Sea Ventures out of Port Hueneme early for the UCSB Scuba Club’s “opening morning” lobster boat.  Lobster season for the California spiny lobster, Panurlirius interruptus, opened at midnight the first Wednesday of October, which fell on the 1^st of the month.  The Scuba Club was offered a much sought after boat charter that year.  We grabbed it.

While waiting for skipper Mickey DeFazio to arrive, the divers milled about the deck in semi-darkness arranging gear in the Ventures’ side bins.  Some divers talked about the proper technique for catching lobster.  Others engaged in conversations that kill time and are quickly forgotten.

The skipper arrived a few minutes late, so the 9:30 p.m. departure time is proportionately delayed.  As the scheduled departure passes, some of the divers grow a bit anxious; concerned that ever minute delayed will be one minute less they are able to look for lobster.  But, we are quickly underway.  Immediately upon clearing Port Hueneme’s breakwater, the boat speed increases as does the swell.  One of the divers in bunks below decks trying to catch a quick catnap says “it’s like trying to sleep on a roller coaster.”  On deck, divers huddle in small groups while others try moving around doing their impression of a loose cannon.

The passage to Anacapa Island is rough.  The pitching and rolling of the boat prevents divers from accessing equipment in the bins to set up their scuba rigs.  About an hour out, a slight change in course indicates that we are heading to the backside of Anacapa.  Other boats report the large swells make diving the front side impractical.  The skipper relays that he intends to go first to Cat Rock, from there we will see how things go.

The swell subsides as soon as the boat passes Arch Rock on the island’s east side.  The ocean’s surface is nearly flat.  The rough passage is quickly forgotten in the animated antics of 28 divers gearing up at the same time.  Each diver believes they will be the first to enter the water, grab a limit of seven lobster and get back to the boat before that last diver enters the water.  Everyone has “bug fever” which is not broken as they giant stride from the boat into the water. 

Visibility at Cat Rock ranges from 6 feet to 20 feet.  In shallow, divers experience a strong surge but lobsters are present.  Immediately on descending, one buddy team spots a “short” lobster (one not of legal size).    They go in shallow where the surge chews up and spits out divers in tight passages.  One diver reports “I see them as the surge pushes me out, they seem to wave “so long” with their antennae as we go by, but they are gone when the surge pulls us back in.”

The surge combined with the lobster’s disinclination to be easily caught makes for a small catch.  As we recover the divers on the stern, a National Park Service ranger paddles up in an inflatable boat to inspect the catch.  He stands off for a few minutes as we recover the last of our divers. Once aboard, as he checks the meager catch, one of the divers asks “what is the proper way to measure a lobster?”  That question piqued the attention of the ranger and he carefully checked each diver’s catch, license, and gages.  Each of the handfull of lobsters is of legal size, every diver has a license, and everyone has a gage.  No surprises or citations.

Mickey decides to move the boat to East Fish Camp, which is a great spot for training dives but also good for lobster on this night.  It also seems to be the one spot that you can dive when the rest of Anacapa proves difficult.  We encounter good conditions.

I descend with my dive buddy and Scuba Club president, Dave Porter.  Dave learned to dive in a class for which I was the assistant instructor a year earlier.  We do a “lights on” descent scanning for urchins in our landing zone. Lobster molts are everywhere acting as decoys. We spot a couple of abalone.  They are untouchable; they can’t be taken at night.  Dave and I head in shallow and ride the surge.  I get bounced around like dice on a Vegas craps table.  We go deep and find a promising ledge.  We spot a large lobster and many tiny lobsters undet the ledge.  A shadow behind the lobster catches my eye and my light reveals one of the largest moray eels I have seen on Anacapa. Shoving your hand in a hole with a moray eel is a surfire formula for getting bit. We move on.

We spot another promising hole, but find it devoid of lobster, occupied by a very large male sheepshead.  We spot another hole.  It contains another sheepshead but no lobster.  We then see antenna sticking out under a cluster of rocks.   Many lobster holes have a "back door" or "escape tunnel." Dave approaches from the front as I move around the back of the rock.  As Dave moves in to grab the lobster, the lobster quickly retreats,  and its tail emerges from the back of the rock. I pinch the tail and extract the lobster.  It ratchets its antennae with the unmistakable grating sound that a pissed off lobster makes.  We measure but it is just a bit short.  We release the critter and it disappears into the darkness with a quick swish of its tail.  

My tank pressure gage tells me our dive is at an end. We surface and inflate our buoyancy compensators and kick on our backs like a couple of contented otters toward the boat’s stern. This dive is one of my best dives to date despite the empty game bag. The bowl of stars overhead, too many to count, is magnificent. 

Back on board everyone has a story about the one that got away.  The winners count their catch, while others scheme about how the next time will be different.  No one is sure why they are out here at 5:00 a.m. They only know they will be back next year.  It is not just the bugs or the tradition of opening night.  It is also the friends gathered in the galley on the way back in.  Some play liars poker, others grumble about attending an early class in a few hours, a couple of people drink champagne toasts to the lobsters in the live well and those left behind, while others crawl into bunks below to grab a well-deserved rest.

Note:  This blog derives from an article I wrote for Sea Scope, the Newsletter of the UCSB Scuba Club, Fall 1986, Volume II, No. 1

Tales from the Logbook--Green Eels and Anenome Fish

 

When I started diving I wanted to explore, covering a lot of territory during the dive.  In an alien environment, everything is new and exciting and I wanted to see it all.  Years passed before I learned the art of picking a spot, hovering over it, and watching what transpired below.  I puffed through a lot of air before I came to appreciate the advantages of staying in one place and judicious observation.

By the time I went to Fiji in 2017, I had pretty much perfected my technique for doing so.  My divelog for Thursday, October 19, recorded my impressions of the three sites in the Vuya Passage:

Location	Depth (ft)	Time (min)	Impression
Humann Nature	55	58	This reef in named for Paul Humann who did a great deal of work at this location for his Fish Identification books.  These are widely regarded as one of the best publications of it type.  This location is loaded with all kinds of fish.  The three minute safety stop at the 15 foot depth is like swimming in an aquarium.
Cat’s Meow	66	42	This site is a small pinnacle.  I swam around its perimeter three times in one dive.  It has a few swim through spots which I did not do because it would have been a tight fit with my tank and I might have damaged the reef.  I did have a chance to see pygmy seahorses and spent time watching Fiji anemone fish in a red anemone at the top of the pinnacle.
Unde Naiable Pinnacle	68	53	Started deep at the outer edge of the pinnacle and moved shallower.  Green eel (video below), swim through, and anemone fish (video below) highlight this spot.  Rough waves on the surface made getting on the skiff and transferring to the boat a bit challenging.

 

Eels have always fascinated me.  While often portrayed in pulp media as a species that will attack humans without provocation, nothing could be further from the truth.  They do look foreboding with their maws agape and their seemingly lifeless eyes.  But, as the Diver Alert Network’s Handbook “diving First Aid for Professional Diver’s notes, “if an animal acts aggressively, it is likely a defensive reaction from a perceived threat.  Examples include putting your hand into a lobster hole only to find that it is also home to a moray eel.”

That is exactly how I came to be bit by a moray eel at Anacapa Island in 2001.  I was on a dive collecting specimens for the Channel Islands National Park underwater video presentation. I spied a lobster’s antennae sticking out under a ledge I swam over.  I thrust my hand under the ledge to grab the lobster when I felt the bite.  Immediately I knew it was a moray eel.  I waited a few seconds until the eel released my finger.  My right index finger had four scalple-like punctures wound through my neoprene glove, two on the top two one the bottom.  I felt pretty dumb because for years I had cautioned students to always look behind the lobster to see if there was an eel behind it.  I thoroughly washed the wound.  While the eels are not venomous, their bite can introduce bacteria. 

In recording video of the green eel, distance, good buoyancy control, and slow movements are key to preventing an encounter.  The same holds true for videos of anemone fish.

I do believe that I could be entertained for hours watching the antics of clownfish and other anemone fish as the swim in and out of the anemone’s tentacles, immune to the effects of its stinging cells.  The National Marine Sanctuary Foundation website describes the partnership as “mutualism because it provides benefits to both animals. Clownfish receive a safe place to live and even prey to eat, and in return clownfish provide food to the anemone, help rid it of harmful parasites, and chase away fish like butterflyfish that feed on anemones. Since clownfish receive such great protection from anemones, they rarely stray far from them, and will even lay their eggs in close proximity to their humble anemone abodes. If a tasty morsel passes by, the clownfish may dart out of the anemone and return once they’ve made their catch. At night, clownfish say safely within the swaying arms of the anemone.” 

Tales from the Logbook--The Kava Ceremony

My dive travels have taken me all over the world.  Diving abroad is not just about seeing different fish and habitats; it is also about honoring and embracing the local culture and traditions, to the extent that they are offered by the locals.  I never could understand people who travel considerable distance to dive and go from the airport directly to the boat on arrival and then from the boat directly to the airport on departure when not compelled to do so by connections or logistics.  Some of the tales from the logbook have nothing to do with submersion and everything to do with immersion.

The evening of October 16,  2017 found us at anchor in Gau Island's lagoon.  Many folks worked on laptop computers refining the many underwater images collected during the day.  I scribbled my recollection of that day's four dives including two in the Nigali Passage and transfered the images from my underwater camera to my tablet.  Others discussed their dives.  This mix of activities is pretty routine on dive boats.  But tonight was special.

The crew of Naia invited the passengers to share kava, a traditional drink across much of the western Pacific Islands used for medicinal and ritual purposes.  The crew honored us with the invitation.  Fujian kava derives from the crushed root of the yaqona (pronounced yang-GO-na) plant, a member of the pepper family.  The kava powder is strained with water and served from a large communal bowl as part of the traditional kava ceremony. When consumed, it creates a pleasant, numb feeling around the mouth, lips and tongue, as well as a sense of calm and relaxation.

We gathered for the Kava ceremony on board the Naia after evening dinner.  Participants in the ceremony were encouraged to dress appropriately.  In place of the t-shirt and shorts that constitute evening wear on most live-aboard dive boats, I donned a floral patterned tropical shirt (called a bula shirt in Fiji) and a sulu, basically a large piece of cloth wrapped around the midsection, much like a towel, to make a skirt that goes to about mid-calf. (I always pack at least one tropical shirt; Naia provided sulus to each passenger.)

At the start of the ceremony, crew and passengers sat around a large wood ceremonial bowl.  Crew members mixed the kava, which is in a cloth sack, with water in the bowl.  The resulting brown liquid is strained and ready for consumption.  The host asked each person, in turn, if they would like to receive a full cup—“high tide” or a half cup “low tide” of kava.  I requested a “high tide.” When presented with the cup, I clapped once and shouted “Bula!" (happiness and good life). I drank the beverage in one gulp and then clapped three more times. The cup bearer then declared “maca” (it is done) pronounced ‘maw-they’.This sequence continued until all participants had received kava.  The ceremony continued through a few more rounds punctuated by story telling, music and singing--all which created a sense of communal connection.

After a couple of high tides I retired to my cabin for a restful night's sleep.

Tales from the Logbook--The Sharks of Nigali Passage

 

In October 2017, I joined my friends Brandon and Melissa Cole and others for a nine day trip around the Fiji archipelago on the live-aboard dive boat, Naia. I made 27 dives during the trip.  Some of the most memorable were on Monday, October 16 and Tuesday, October 17 at Gau Island.  My dive journal for the first day cryptically states, “Nigali Passage, Shark Day.”  We stayed in the area a couple of days and made three dives to specifically observe sharks.  The experience, which could have been dubbed “Sharks on Parade,” did not disappoint.

Dive Log

Date	Dive Number (Trip)	Depth	Duration
October 16, 2017	14	91	45
October 16, 2017	15	85	47
October 17, 2017	18	87	45

Dive Planning

We gather around the Muster Station early in the morning for a briefing on our dives in the Nigali Passage.  The passage, which cuts through the island’s barrier reef, connects Gau island’s lagoon to deeper water.  The sharks and other marine life use that corridor to move between the two areas.

The best time to dive Nigali Passage is 1.5 hours either side of low tide when current and visibility conditions are optimal.

A schematic of the Passage drawn on a white board used for site briefings shows the general plan for the dive.  The tenders will take us outside the Passage, drop us into deeper water (about 80-90 feet) near the bottom of the passage.  We will then move up the passage toward the lagoon with the wall on the right.  We will cross a sand channel and end up at a ledge in about 60 feet of water called “The Bleachers.”  The flat terrace creates a platform or bench from which we can observe the grey reef sharks (Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos) as they move through the Passage between the lagoon to deeper waterand white tip reef sharks (Triaenodon obesus) as they rest on the bottom pointed into the current.  From the Bleachers we will ascend toward the lagoon, turning right at the top of the channel. 

The grey reef shark typically reaches about five to six feet in length.  It feeds on small boney fish, cephalopods, and crustaceans.  They are often seen in groups swimming slowly ‘upstream’ in current swept reef channels by day. When threatened, grey reefs sharks lower their pectoral fins, arch their backs and swim in an exaggerated manner.  They are considered quite easy to approach by divers with non-threatening movements. 

The Dives

We don our wetsuits on board the NAIA.  We finish gearing up in the rigid inflatable boat (RIB) that serves as a dive tender taking us from the mothership to the dive site.  With everyone on board, the tender motors into the Passage.  I am buddied with Michelle.  We back roll off the rigid hull inflatable boat and descend to 80+ feet.  Near the bottom, a big school of barracuda swim by in what seems like an endless procession.  We start swimming up the passage toward the lagoon assisted by the current caused by the water moving into the lagoon on the flooding tide. 

We pick out our spots in The Bleachers and settle in.  Tucked into the Passage wall, we have an unobstructed view.  Michelle would later remark “it’s like being in a wildlife blind.”  I agree.  We are not really detectable to the sharks except for our exhaust bubbles. The sharks seem to materialize, moving down the Passage, some very close by.  They seem to move with a magnificent deliberate slowness that befits a skilled predator.  You can almost hear the “oohs” and “aahs” of the divers as the big fish move past us.  One grey reef shark cruises over our position but takes no notice.  

I know that these reef sharks are generally not a threat to divers.  Still, for a moment I experience an atavistic response to its presence—a bit of apprehension mixed with a rapt fascination.  I have encountered similar sharks on many of my dives and my reaction is always the same.

After about 20 minutes, which passes much too quickly, it is time to begin my ascent. Michelle and I move up the very steep channel assisted by the current.  At the top of the channel we turn right.  Visibility is somewhat by sand grains suspended in the water.  As it clears we see the “cabbage patch” a seemingly endless expanse of cabbage coral.  We surface, climb back on board the tender, and head back toward the NAIA. 

Tales from the Logbook--Dolphins High on Pufferfish?

We board the boat, Ima Kai, at 4:15 p.m. and head for “Garden Eel Cove” aka “Manta Ray Cove” or “Manta Heaven” near the Kona airport.  The crew cautions us that the trip to the site might be a bit rough and wet.  Leaving the harbor, the boat accelerates and is soon on step.  The wake from the bow tends to come over the freeboard into the cabin.  The crew seems to approach every swell as a challenge to see how far they can skip across the surface. From all the whooping the Captain and our two dive guides are making from the steering station, they think they are winning the contest. 

A broken engine cancelled our dives that morning.  The crew quickly made repairs. I wonder if they are attempting to wring out the repair of the freshly installed impeller.  The boat movement does produce some discomfort bordering on sea sickness among the riders in back.  I feel it.  Everyone got wet.  Once we enter the cove, the sea settles down.  The boat approaches the mooring slowly.  A couple of boats are already moored and divers may be in the water. 

We tie off to the mooring and prepare for our dive.  Imran, our dive guide, briefs us on what to expect on the dive.  We will descend as a group using the bow line and ascend to the boat at the end of the dive via the bow line.  Other boats are likely to be tied off to our stern as the number of boats arriving for the night manta dive exceeds the moorings available.  I nod my head as he describes the situation.  I have seen the same technique used in Orange Beach, Florida and Wreck Alley in San Diego.

At about 5:15 p.m., we entered the water and descended down the bow line as a group with Imran.  On the bottom, I check my buoyancy.  The b.c. that I rented for the evening dives seems a bit more buoyant than my personal b.c., but not enough to require additional weight.  We swim past the rock circles that mark the “campfires” around which dozens of divers will gather in a few hours to watch the mantas feed.  Continuing toward deeper water, I see an spiny puffer fish (Diodon holocanthus) swimming away from the group.  I wanted to get a picture of it, but could not get in front to frame the photo.  They are usually pretty photogenic.  This fish seemed perturbed.  I soon discovered why.

We follow the slope toward deeper water, about 70 feet.  One of the diver spots a manta and we stop as it approaches.  Soon, it is joined by a couple more.  I snap a picture of Luke hovering vertically in the water column looking up at a manta.  I move to get closer to some of the approaching mantas when a pod of bottlenose dolphins (Tursiops truncatus)swims by and stops.  They hover just off to the right of us.  It looks like two are trying to mate.  Another lays on its dorsal fin, belly up in the sand, and still another roots around in the sand picking up sea cucumbers.  They seem stoned.  I ignore the mantas as they continue to pass overhead and concentrate on the dolphins!  Quickly, the dolphins come out of their stupor, linger a bit and move away.

I have not seen dolphins and manta rays on the same dive in nearly 40 years of diving! I have seen manta rays and I have seen dolphins, but never together.  What a fabulous sight we have on this dive.  The show ends too soon.  Reaching my “low on air” point we head back to the boat.  Traffic overhead is increasing as more boats are arriving for the night manta dive.  When we get back to the boat we discover that a vessel has tied off to one of the stern cleats.

We discuss the behavior of the dolphins.  I remarked that they seemed to be “high on drugs.”  One of the crewmembers mentioned that dolphins have been known to play with pufferfish and that the fish’s toxin (tetrodotoxin) produces a hallucinogenic effect in the dolphin.  I mention the sighting I had of a “pissed off puffer” just before we encountered the dolphins.  A different boat crew on our dive the next day repeated the connection.

Do Dolphin Get High on Pufferfish?

While I am skeptical that there is a cause and effect of pufferfish on dolphins, I decided to look into the phenomena.  A single report with some very interesting video, appears to have been magnified through constant repetition through media until it becomes widely circulated fact. What I discovered is that in the internet/social media age, the more a story is repeated, the more it is accepted as fact.

Smithsonian Magazine citing press reports from late 2013 reported, “footage from a new BBC documentary series, "Spy in the Pod," reveals what appears to be dolphins getting high off of pufferfish. Pufferfish produce a potent defensive chemical, which they eject when threatened. In small enough doses, however, the toxin seems to induce "a trance-like state" in dolphins that come into contact with it…”

Many individual news outlets around the world carry the story with attribution going to the initial report. 

The BBC series footage of dolphins interacting with pufferfish soon appears on social media.  It appears in two versions on Youtube, the shorter  Dolphins purposely 'getting high' on pufferfish and the longer Dolphins Play Catch with a Pufferfish!  By 2024, the former segment has segment has 3.5 million views in 10 years while the latter has a quarter million views in four years. 

The behavior the bottlenose dolphins exhibit in the BBC footage is similar to the footage I took.  So do dolphins habitually get high on the pufferfish toxin? 

As Whales on Line, noted “a 2014 BBC documentary showed a pod of dolphins playing with a pufferfish, prodding and grabbing it with their beaks while taking great care not to harm it. Playing with the fish is believed to trigger the release of a toxin that the dolphins can ingest. Are they looking for a high or are they just playing?... According to Rob Pilley, zoologist and producer of the documentary, the dolphins seemed completely euphoric. This would not be the first time that dolphins have made use of this psychotropic element. On the other hand, other experts argue that this is an anthropocentric over-interpretation of the behaviour.”

The website, Dolphins and You seems to put the behavior into context. 

“Renowned for their intelligence and playful demeanor, dolphins have been observed engaging in fascinating behaviors, one of which is playing with pufferfish. This intriguing behavior has intrigued researchers and animal behaviorists for years. One possible explanation for dolphins’ interaction with pufferfish is their curiosity and the desire for stimulation. Pufferfish have unique features, such as their ability to inflate themselves into a spiky ball when threatened. This novelty may attract dolphins and spark their interest, leading them to interact with these fascinating creatures.

Another possible reason for dolphins playing with pufferfish is their use as a form of playtime and social interaction. Dolphins are highly social animals, and they engage in various playful activities to bond with one another. Playing with pufferfish could serve as a recreational activity, enabling dolphins to strengthen social bonds within their pod. The playful interaction may involve tossing or pushing the pufferfish gently, providing both physical and mental stimulation for the dolphins.

Additionally, some researchers speculate that dolphins’ interaction with pufferfish may have a practical purpose. Pufferfish are known to produce a toxin called tetrodotoxin, which can be lethal to most predators. However, dolphins have been observed carefully handling pufferfish without triggering their defensive response. It is possible that dolphins have learned to use their skills and intelligence to manipulate the pufferfish in a way that avoids the release of toxins. By practicing these interactions, dolphins may be acquiring valuable knowledge and honing their hunting techniques

Pufferfish contain a potent neurotoxin called tetrodotoxin, which is highly toxic to most animals, including dolphins. Ingesting or coming into contact with tetrodotoxin can be lethal. Dolphins are aware of the dangers associated with pufferfish and have been observed engaging with them cautiously, often avoiding direct ingestion or contact with the toxin. While dolphins may interact with pufferfish, it is not for the purpose of getting high but rather for play, exploration, or potentially learning about their defensive mechanisms.”

Who Wins in the Dolphin-Pufferfish Encounter?--Enter Artificial Intelligence

Using artificial intelligence, the Animal Matchup website analyses the advantages and disadvantages of a dolphin and pufferfish would have in contest between the two in a three round match.  When I ran the query, the dolphin won in the final round

“As the final round begins, the Dolphin keeps up its assault, wearing down the Pufferfish with precise strikes. Sensing defeat, the Pufferfish desperately puffs up in a last-ditch effort to deter the Dolphin. However, the Dolphin outmaneuvers the inflated Pufferfish and delivers a decisive blow, incapacitating its opponent and securing victory.”

Dive Log Data

Date	Dive	Depth and Duration	Dive Buddy
Tuesday, 3-28-2023	Garden Eel Cove, Kona Coast, Hawaii	68 feet for 49 minutes	Luke Lima

 

Tales from the Logbook-- Reef Manta Ray Diving in Kona

 

As darkness falls, Luke and I descended with the rest of our group to our designated area in 35 feet of water a short distance from the boat.  Our dive boat is one of many vessels crammed into Garden Eel Cove/Manta Heaven on the Kona coast of the island of Hawaii.  So many vessels have brought people to watch the manta rays feed tonight that the installed boat moorings are quickly occupied.  Thereafter, boats tie up to each other, bow-to-stern, in a daisy chain of as many as three vessels.  

Our dive guide, Carrie, placed a bright light pointed toward the surface in the center of our semicircle of kneeling divers.  It became our “campfire” illuminating swarms of plankton in the aura of its blinding brilliance.  We each grasped a hand-held underwater light also pointed to the surface to further illuminate the plankton.  I adjusted my buoyancy and position to find the stationary balance and minimize the effects of a light surge.  Looking around I could sense many other “campfires” across the seafloor, each with a group of divers huddled around.  Light also shown from above from the many boats crammed into the cove and the snorkelers on the surface on floating frames and pool noodles.

Almost immediately, a few reef mantas (Manta alfredi) arrive and feed on the illuminated plankton.  Soon, more mantas careen through the water column barely avoiding bumping the kneeling divers or colliding with one another.  We watched the critters graciously loop-the-loop across the area rising and descending through the water column.  The area quickly fills with more swooping manta rays.  The very frenetic feeding frenzy or, more accurately, a feeding scrum forms.  Countless mantas circle in and out of the light sometimes thumping into the kneeling divers or brushing by each other. 

The resulting manta “aquabatics” never gets dull.  At times, I am looking right down the gullet of the manta at it cartilaginous interior. At other times, I flinch as the manta passes over me.  Another manta bumps me from behind as it dives into the light. 

In the excitement and wonder of the show, the 45-minute bottom time passes quickly.  Our dive guide extinguishes the campfire, retrieves the light, and leads our group back to the boat.  We ascend directly to the surface at the bow of the boat.  We forego the three-minute stop at 15 feet on this dive. With the boat traffic in the area and divers ascending and descending, it is safer to skip the stop.

Everyone returned to the boat quite exhilarated by the spectacle of the swooping and soaring mantas! Three times I have seen the performance and it always is breathtaking.  “Many, Many” may be the most accurate count of the number of mantas that showed up for the feeding.   Manta Ray Heaven has lived up to its reputation.

A Very Popular Activity

The Manta Ray diving and snorkeling experience ranks high among the top “must do” activities by Trip Advisor for the Island of Hawaii.  I recommend the activity whenever someone mentions they are going to Kona.  Given the stream of visitors that travel from Anchorage to Kona, that is a lot of recommendations. Like me, many have done the activity multiple times.  Most of them do it from the surface; I have always done it on scuba.

Big Island Now reporter Megan Mosely described the experience.[1]

“The manta ray night dive off the coast of Kona is on the bucket list of many divers from around the world. It is a unique experience for snorkelers, too.  Tour operators bring bright lights, which attract plankton, a yummy meal for the manta rays. To gobble up the plankton, the majestic black and white sea creatures — with distinctive markings and wing spans of about 12 feet — swoop through the water with their mouths open. It looks like a choreographed dance, watching them gracefully swim through the water, turning and somersaulting, often within a few feet of divers. For many, it’s mesmerizing and magical.”

The article estimates that up to 60 boats per day visit Garden Eel Cove.  Proposed regulations would limit the number of boats per day, the hours of operation, and the time that any single boat could be on site.  It would also limit the number of commercial licenses to 24 operators.  Some current operators could lose their license if the regulations go through. 

Efforts by the Department of Land and Natural Resources to establish more strict regulations over the years have proven difficult.[2]

 The Hawaiian legislature passed HB 1039 in 2023 that would have provided a legislative solution for commercial manta viewing licenses but the bill was vetoed by the Governor.[3]

A recent article in SFGate, 'Bad practices': The controversy behind an unforgettable Hawaii experience describes some of the dangers and consequences to both the human and manta participants.  It reports that up to 290 persons can be on site for the encounter. [4]

Manta viewing is a staple for boat operators and dive shops.  Advertising for the encounters are ubiquitous throughout Kona.  You can even book a snorkeling experience at the Kona Costco.  .  The operator I used reported that they might do as many as three trips to the site per night.  They do an educational program on-site about manta ray natural history prior to the dive.  The briefing, using manta hand puppets, explains the creature’s physiology and behavior. The guides don’t pass up an opportunity to throw in one-line dad jokes.  Some of the shtick is so corny it is actually funny.  A lot of information is conveyed through the accompanying theatrics and the people on board enjoy the show. 

Dive Log

Each of the three times that I have done the manta ray viewing on Kona, I went with a company that  offered a two tank dive package—a late afternoon dive in the Garden Eel Cove area (during which we did encounter manta rays) and the night dive around the campfire.  Each time we had multiple mantas show up and put on a heck of a display. 

Date	Dive	Depth and Duration	Dive Buddy
Wednesday,4-3-2013	Garden Eel Cove	70 feet for 45 minutes	Justin Lima
Wednesday,4-3-2013	Garden Eel Cove (Manta)	35 feet for 45 minutes	Justin Lima
Thursday, 3-29-2018	Garden Eel Cove	73 feet for 50 minutes	Luke Lima
Thursday, 3-29-2018	Garden Eel Cove (Manta)	33 feet for 45 minutes	Luke Lima
Tuesday, 3-28-2023	Garden Eel Cove	68 feet for 49 minutes	Luke Lima
Tuesday, 3-28-2023	Garden Eel Cove (Manta)	35 feet for 45 minutes	Luke Lima

 

I can only add to the hyperbole by describing my experience as “magical, magnificent, and memorable.”  I think my teenaged dive buddies, two of my nephews, found the encounter as I described.  In the case of Luke, the video of his older brother’s dive may have been a factor inspiring him to learn to dive.   I certainly enjoyed watching their wide-eyed amazement and enthusiasm.  I guarantee that no one will have the reaction of “meh.”

The Kona manta dive was not my first encounter with these magnificent creatures.  During a December 2010 dive trip on the Nautilus Explorer to the Revillagigedo Archipelago, 300 miles south of the tip of Baja, Mexico, we dived on an underwater pinnacle where the mantas lined up like so many jet liners lines up for an approach to LAX.  That experience will be the subject of a future blog entry.

Closing Thoughts

I have previously written about my manta encounters and the changing human view of these majestic creatures.

The irony that our human-manta encounters may be detrimental to the very thing we treasure is not lost on me.  I do not have an answer to the dilemma faced by the Hawaiians involved in this issue.  I have found that regulations that create barriers to entry for operators often raise the costs for participants making the activity less egalitarian and much more exclusive.  Favoring the longest operating companies may be unfair to new entrants with more innovative approaches.  Education and implementing best practices can certainly help to mitigate but cannot eliminate effects.  These problems are not unique to manta viewing.  These considerations frame decisions regarding all fisheries, both consumptive and non-consumptive. 

 

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[1] Mosely, Meghan.  Big Island manta ray tour operators mixed about proposed rules, possible new law.  Big Island Now.  June 18, 2023.  https://bigislandnow.com/2023/06/18/big-island-manta-ray-tour-operators-mixed-about-proposed-rules-possible-new-law/  accessed July 5, 2023

[2]https://mantarayadvocates.com/manta-ray-tourism-regulations-2024-update/

[3] https://legiscan.com/HI/bill/HB1090/2023

[4] Christine Hitt.  Bad Practices: The controversy behind an unforgettable Hawaii experience.  SFGate, August, 18, 2024.  https://www.sfgate.com/hawaii/article/manta-ray-tour-kona-big-island-19652621.php