Its mouth was wide open and the lobes located either side of its mouth were unravelled to help funnel more water, and therefore plankton, into its gaping mouth. A gigantic inky black manta ray – probably 4 metres wide tip to tip – glided past me so close I could have touched it if I had reached out. Transfixed by the marine life, I naturally drifted away slightly from the group until I was suddenly startled by a huge creature to my right. The protected marine reserve waters around the islands have certainly resulted in an underwater oasis. Palette Surgeons, iconic Bannerfish, striped Angelfish, multicoloured Parrot Fish and many others darted in large shoals all around.

See my privacy and disclosure policy for more.*įor fish, it was a haven.

*This post may contain affiliate links meaning should you purchase a product via this link, I’ll earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. The coral was a contrasting technicoloured blanket of everything from striking yellow branches, frothy lilac and bright purple clouds, to fungi-looking ribbons of orange-green cabbage coral. Eight or so metres below us was a nursery of some of the most spectacularly intricate coral and array of fish I have seen in a long time.ĭespite the choppiness of the sea ruining the clarity of the water, the marine life was spectacular. We let the strong current guide us back through the channel, our heads partially submerged and bobbing around in the waves like buoys.Īs we drifted, what first caught my attention was the coral. Those who weren’t too seasick donned a snorkel and jumped from the boat into the rough sea. Suddenly we spotted it, a huge diamond-shaped movement on the surface of the water. For many people, swimming with manta rays in Fiji is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I certainly wasn’t going to miss out thanks to a few waves and grey clouds.Īfter a very bumpy 5 minute ride to the channel between our island and the one adjacent, Naviti Island, we stopped for a second and drifted along the Drawaqa Passage as we looked for their signature surface splashing. Which, for someone who can definitely swim, but maybe isn’t the strongest swimmer in the world, was a little daunting.īut the frantic buzz of it all made the atmospheric weather all part of the experience. It was an overcast and humid day with the ocean looking particularly ferocious. As part of his research, Rob documents each giant reef manta ray by diving underneath and filming their distinctive tummy spots – what he called their manta fingerprint – which he’d send afterwards on request. He encouraged us to enjoy the experience and not to watch it through a screen. Strictly no touching, no diving down and what I liked the most – no photography or filming. Manta rays had been spotted – it was time to jump in a boat and go.Īs I arrived in my soggy outfit, Rob, the resident British marine biologist, was just finishing up his housekeeping talk. All attention was on the much anticipated alert – a hubbub of voices and stomping feet could be heard from across the resort as people frantically ran towards the dive shop. I grabbed my bikini, still sopping wet from my swim earlier that morning, and put it on as quickly and modestly as I could.

The loud repeated banging of a Lali drum accompanied by distant, urgent shouts. As I was lugging my backpack to my ‘sunrise paradise’ dorm room on Drawaqa Island, only minutes after arriving, I heard it.

Swim with rays