There we were, in the middle of the night, on a boat just off the Kona coast putting on our fins and snorkels. It was happening. My son Anders, my daughter Tatum, and my husband Mark had no idea what to expect, because I hadn’t told them.
But, I knew what to expect. If you look up the “Manta Ray Night Dive” on the Big Island of Hawaii you’ll see why it’s so popular. It’s a dive where snorkelers gather to witness manta rays with wingspans of up to 15 feet, glide right in from of your eyes. It was described as a “bucket-list experience,” “an underwater ballet, ” “one of the world’s best night dives,” and it is the reason I chose the Big Island for our vacation. I always look for small adventures on every trip, a singular focus that helps all of us to be more present, undistracted, have a shared experience and blah blah blah.
“Why are we snorkeling at night?” asked Anders, “this is dumb.”
“We’re not going to see anything,” Tatum agreed, “this is so dumb.”
Final words before snorkels placed in mouths prevented them from becoming any more adorable.
After getting in the water, guides told to follow a rope and swim over to the raft, which was a huge flotation device lit from underneath. I knew this from my research, the lights are used to attract the plankton, which attracts the Manta Rays.
As we were the last ones off the boat, I got separated from Mark and the kids and I was directed to a spot on the edge on the other side of the raft.
The dive guides told us to be as still as possible so as to not kick away the plankton and deter the Manta Rays.
“Keep both hands on the raft and keep your legs very still,” the guide monitoring our side of the raft called out, “float like Superman.” One by one people got it, and became still. Everyone except for the man right next to me.
“Float like Superman!” the guide repeated.
I was sure he was talking now only to the man next to me. I suspected he was the only one not understanding something that was so easy to understand.
The man kept kicking. I looked down at his thin, hairy legs, willing them to stop.
“Float like Superman!” The guide now sounded like he was directly behind us.
But, the man kept kicking. I glared down at his legs, freaking float like Superman! Superman doesn’t fly through the skies kicking his legs like a frog being electrocuted.
The Manta Rays started showing up, but not underneath us. From the other side of the raft I could hear muffled exclamations of awe and delight being filtered through snorkels. But next to me Legs was ruining everything. I wished the dive guide would keep encouraging him to “float like superman” but the guide had either realized it was a lost cause, or he wanted those who had the chance to enjoy the manta rays to do so with peace and quiet.
This was supposed to be the vacation highlight for my kids and Mark, but for me too. I was not the mother my mother had been. One happy to simply hear about it later. She signed us up for everything from horseback riding, parasailing, and skiing, to overnight trips based around river kayaking and shark dives, but she never went herself. Only when I became a mother did it occur to me to wonder why.
I had spent an embarrassing amount of time researching this dive on TripAdvisor and Youtube, finding the best company, and comparing the pros and cons of snorkel vs scuba. It would be an easy first night dive for the kids to be able to log, so at first I leaned towards scuba, but here’s the uncommon thing, snorkeling seemed to be the recommended way to go. Obviously the more economical option, but also, at the surface of the water you get to see the rays up close, “gentle giants” as one person described them, “coming inches from your face.”
As a scuba diver you kneel on the ocean floor and look up at the rays. The con being you are further away, the pro being that it feels like a more immersive experience. Another pro that was not mentioned in the reviews is that you are less likely to be squeezed up next to someone who can’t take direction.
Maybe I could swim to the otherwise and find a spot somewhere? I took one hand off the raft. “Keep both hand on the raft, please!” The guide called out. I put my hand back on.
I was running out of time. We had already been in the water for at least half of the 45 minutes we had, and so far I had only seen a ray out of my periphery or a shadow figure far below. They were all keeping their distance from the spaz.
Eventually the call came that it was time to swim back to the boat. I was like a gamer who had gotten so close, but was now out of lives.
***
As we put on our jackets the kids and Mark gushed about the whole experience, comparing notes on the size of the rays and how close they came and how they looked like aliens, or dinosaurs, no, aliens. And really, I was happy to hear it. And I was focused on the moment. Really I was, but there was something I had to do.
I stood up.
“Where are you going?” Mark asked.
“Somewhere,” I said.
I began to walk the length of the boat.
“Hey, lady” Mark called out, using his nickname for me which never fails to confuse at least one or more women nearby, “where are you going?”
This time I didn’t answer, because I already had.
I was going to find Legs. He had been wearing blue shorts, maybe black. That was going to make it more difficult. But I was sure I’d know them when I saw them.
They weren’t on the first deck.
I climbed the ladder to the second deck.
I strolled the second deck which seemed to be mostly couples. All I knew is they were thin, and lots of dark hair on the lower calf. Is that them? No, he wasn’t in a yellow swimsuit.
In the bow area of the upper deck I found Legs. I was sure. I mean, if they were in a police line up I might request that they start kicking like someone who just got plucked up by a T-rex in the movie Jurassic Park, but it wasn’t necessary.
I sat down on the bench across from Legs and his date/girlfriend. They didn’t notice me as they chatted excitedly, engrossed in each other. They were in their early thirties, I guessed. Maybe on a third or fourth date was my other guess. They seemed familiar with each other, but not comfortable yet. Curious, I thought, looking at her, she was very pretty. I mean, it’s not that I think someone who can’t float like Superman can’t attract a pretty woman. It just seems so unlikely.
She must have been on the other side of him in the water. Even though she was that much closer to the other side of the raft where the wildlife show (versus the leg show) was happening, she had to have noticed her date was ruining everything. How could she be looking at him now, leaning in, flirting, like she was still considering having sex with him later? And look at Legs…leaning back against the bench, unsurprised by her attention. He looked so calm, all his extremities were so very still. Now that I think about it, I am surprised I recognized him.
Occasionally she would laugh at something he said, and from what I could tell, and believe me I was watching closely, her laughter was genuine. I couldn’t hear what he said with the wind and motor as the boat headed back to shore, but no way was I going to believe that he could be so funny, outside of unintentional physical comedy, that is. To be funny you have to have an awareness not only about yourself, but others and the world around you.
“Hi lady!” Mark’s head popped up from below deck, a head without a body.
I barely dared acknowledge him, I didn’t want to draw attention…
“Lady! Hey, lady!”
I finally looked over.
“Hi,” Mark said, “hi lady!”
I should have known better. I waved him over. Mark climbed the rest of the ladder, and sat down next to me.
“You’re acting weird, everything okay?”
I nodded. Mark followed my gaze past Legs and his date to what he assumed was the object of my attention.
“Look at that,” Mark said, “it’s a Waxing Gibbous moon.”
***
When we pulled up to the dock, I grabbed my things and quickly followed Legs and his date off the boat.
“Lady!” Mark called out after me, surprised to be left with the kids, but I couldn’t afford to stop, or even look back. I had a sense that I was moving past the stage of anger, but it was still tenuous. Staying close to Legs seemed important.
“Xenia!” Mark now used my actual name, which meant he was struggling. “What’s your crazy mom doing?” I heard him asking the kids.
I stayed one to two people behind the couple as we made our way down the ramp and into the parking lot. Legs’s car happened to be directly across from ours. I leaned up against our modest rental and waited for Mark, and as I waited I took note.
Legs had a very nice convertible BMW. The Manta Ray night dive is a touristy thing, but only now did it occur to me that Legs might a local. One could always rent a luxury car like that, but it is not common, I don’t think. I wouldn’t know, actually. But again, they seemed new to each other, and what is the likelihood that they’d fly to Hawaii for a third or fourth date?
I decided they were locals to the island and the Manta Ray dive was someone’s idea for a fun night. And it is fun. Certainly the focus might be less on being impressed by giant rays when you are still focused on impressing each other. They could do the dive again anytime, unlike someone like, well me for example. I wondered when and if I would ever be back to the Big Island.
Mark, the kids, and the towel bags arrived at our car.
“That was so cool. Didn’t you guys have fun?” Mark asked Anders and Tatum, surely as a way to break me out of acting weird. “Mom came up with it.”
“That was really cool, thanks mom!”
“Yeah, thanks mom!”
I nodded to acknowledge I was hearing them. Being fully present and without distractions is what the night had been all about, and it continues to be something I strive for…
In the meantime though, I focused on the BMW convertible as it backed out of the spot. I followed the taillights until they turned out of the parking lot which felt like a moment; Legs was exiting my life forever after being such a dominant figure in the last few hours of it, and I decided now was the exact time to let go. It hadn’t been fair to blame him for a lesser than experience to begin with. He knows not the dreams he has destroyed in his wake, what a blessing to pass through the world with such an untroubled mind. God speed Legs!
I had one question though; what did Legs do for a living? That was a really nice car.
I decided he must be a trust funder. I mean, it’s not that I think someone who can’t float like Superman in the water, despite being equipped and surrounded by multiple floatation devices, can’t be brilliant and successful on dry land. It just seems so unlikely.