Over the past three days, the remaining MantaWatch team have been at sea conducting the final surveys of Manta Month in Komodo 2013, and we found much more than we bargained for.
We sailed out of Labuan Bajo on Sunday and headed south, our team now much smaller after sad farewells to Riza, Satria and Vidlia the day before. But Ranny and Ichsan had stayed on to join Elitza, me and our four guests on this manta safari. On our journey south, we dropped in at the dive sites of Pengah and Three Sisters and while we didn’t find any mantas, we did record a couple of whitetip reef sharks at Three Sisters, contributing some valuable data to our Eco-Guide Logbook program.
That evening we anchored in the caldera bay of Padar, a location that, with its encircling jagged peaks, is usually a sheltered harbour. But not today. Strong winds and heavy swell were causing our anchor to drag, and we decided to relocate to the bay of Loh Sera in south Komodo, where a mooring would offer safer sanctuary. In the darkness we crept out of Padar’s bay, and into the full fury of the rolling waves blowing in from the south. For the next two hours we all had white knuckles and green faces, as the boat pitched and rolled beneath our feet and white waves crashed over the bow. Two hours that seemed like an eternity, before we found the shelter of Loh Sera and moored up securely for the night.
The next morning dawned bright and clear and, with the large waves now only a memory, we were able to round the cape to Manta Alley. As we scoured the surface of the water, the tell-tale flash of a white wingtip revealed that there was at least one manta in the area. We entered the water, and peering into the depths as we descended I could see the unique shadowy shape of three mantas below us. But with a flick of their wings, they glided effortlessly away, heading northwards and just out of sight. We followed slowly, Elitza and Ranny scanning the shallows, while Ichsan and I peered out into the depths.
Manta Fever
Rounding a rocky corner, we swam into one of the “alleys” that give this site its name and where, with the falling tide, a strong current was being channeled. And suddenly we were surrounded by mantas! In the alley, 10 mantas were fiercely beating their wings against the current. I ducked behind a rocky outcrop seeking shelter from the current, and in this respite took some time to look around. Above me, another 15 mantas were feeding on the surface, silhouetted against the sun.
Fast currents and back light–difficult conditions for taking manta ID photos. But training and experience paid off, and between us all we captured 20 IDs.
After a brief surface interval we returned for a second survey at Manta Alley. By this time the current had died down, and we found 15 mantas performing courtship dances in the shallows. After the dive and back on the boat, we cruised around the rocky outcrops that break the surface around Manta Alley, and recorded more than 35 mantas on the surface, their wingtips and dorsal fins occasionally breaking the surface.
And then it was time to leave south Komodo and head north. But just as we started sailing, we were awarded a rare surprise. Just off the bow a puff of vaporous water hovered briefly above the broad grey back of a small whale. We watched enthralled as it sank below the waves, and tried to guess in which spot on the immense ocean it would reappear, as it rose and fell three or four times over the next ten minutes. Unfortunately we were not close enough to identify the species, but this only slightly diminished our excitement.
Our next stop was Manta Point, but here we were disappointed. Our team recorded no mantas, perhaps because the moon was still a few days away from being full.
The next morning we rose early for a dawn dive at Castle Rock. In the brightening dawn light, 15 whitetip reef sharks were feeding in the current, while a solitary grey reef shark patrolled further out in deeper water. Later at The Cauldron we saw a single whitetip, and at Tatawa Besar a lone blacktip.
And then it was time to return to Labuan Bajo, as the sun sets on a very sharky final day of our manta safari. And while it was exciting to see these spectacular creatures, I couldn’t help but be disappointed. I’m sure that we used to see many more grey reef sharks at Castle Rock, and I certainly remember seeing blacktips at Tatawa Besar on nearly every dive. Over the past month encounters with sharks have been a rare treat. Perhaps this is a seasonal trend or perhaps a signal of wider population declines, but with this valuable data now being recorded by divers and guides via our Eco-Guide Logbook program, decision makers and dive operators will be able to track these trends more closely.
