It started out innocently enough. We were at Marina Palmira and my buddy Terry on the sailboat Cetus asked me if I wanted to go on a dinghy ride so he could burn up some old gas. He just had his 15 HP motor serviced and the mechanic had said that his fuel was suspect. We idled around the marina checking out boats and babes and then decided to go out into the channel and open the motor up. We had gone about a mile and were nearing the magote (a small sandy isthmus) when we spotted a green marker that Terry said was not there two days ago when he had gone to that area with a group to check out the whale sharks.

It had apparently trapped itself by getting between the buoy and the anchor which was a concrete pail about fifteen feet down. The line had passed between its mandibles which were about three feet apart and it was dragging the buoy, the line and the concrete through the water. Since it can not back-up it was trapped. We knew we had to free it, but did not know how. Terry's painter on the dinghy was about fifteen feet long and I suggested we lasso the buoy and go around the front of it and pull it off the Ray. The only trouble with this theory was that once we lassoed the buoy we were also captive so to speak with a 10 – 12 foot Ray two feet below us. We had to think this through and decided to try it.

After I successfully lassoed the buoy we started being dragged through the water with the buoy. Terry tried to reverse to circle around to the front but full throttle on his 15 HP was no match for the Manta-Ray. Now we were in a pickle because every time we get on top of him, he starts thrashing around us not to mention the 3 or 4 foot spike he has on his tail. I suggested we could only get free if he motored forward, but not quite over the top of him so that the propeller would hit him. We waited a minute to catch our breath and Terry maneuvered to the side and then gunned it and we finally got in front of him.

The buoy moved forward enough and seemed to slacken and the Ray seemed to sense this and turned to the right and broke free. He swam off like a giant bird gliding. We were exhausted so rested for a minute or two and then took the rope of the buoy. We motored back to the marina and we both had a grin a mile wide. Of course no one on the dock would believe us given our reputations, but we did not care, no Manta-Ray dies on our watch.

Jim Currah
Sailing vessel – Prairie Oyster

When Jim Currah and I left Marina Palmira that calm morning we had no idea what an adventure was waiting for us.

Frustrated by the engine, but still intrigued by the repeated sighting of the fin next to the marker, we broke out the oars and began to paddle the short distance. It soon became clear that we were not getting any closer to the buoy. We attributed our slow progress to a strong current after all the buoy was leaning over slightly and a small wake was streaming behind it.

Realizing we weren’t getting anywhere rowing, I tried the outboard once again and was rewarded when after the sixth pull, the engine sputtered to life in a cloud of blue smoke. We’d drifted about 50 feet away from our goal, so we quickly headed back to the buoy which now had two fins circling around it. Finally, when we got to within 10 feet of the buoy we were astounded to see that the two fins belonged to one animal! A very large Manta-Ray had gotten tangled up with the green navigation marker and had been dragging it around from who knows where. In the clear, shallow water we could see a 5 gallon bucket filled with cement used as an anchor and attached to the base of the buoy by a thick rope. The buoy’s anchor rode was caught between the mandibles of the Ray, and without the ability to back-up, it had no way of disengaging itself from the line.

As we sat in the dinghy and watched, the beast moved away somewhat dragging the bucket and buoy with him and we realized that’s what had made it appear there was current flowing by the buoy – we hadn’t been kept from reaching the buoy it had been moving away from us. We quickly formed a plan to rescue the creature that involved Jim lassoing the buoy from the bow of the dinghy. Once he got the dinghy painter over the buoy, then I would reverse the engine (as not to run over the Ray's back) and it would hopefully just pull free.

After chasing the Ray around the bay trying to get a good position on him, Jim let fly the noose/painter and in great cowboy fashion got us lassoed to the buoy. Now I should point out at this time that the Ray was large and had a span from the tip of one fin to the tip of the other that was longer than my 11 foot dinghy. The beast didn’t immediately appreciate our rescue attemps and he took off with renewed energy pulling the dinghy, the buoy, the weight, Jim, myself and the outboard (that was now in reverse at full throttle) with him. We looked at each other with wide eyes, stunned that the outboard did not slow this monster down at all. After several minutes the Ray seemed to calm down so I took the engine out of gear and throttled it down.

We were then being slowly pulled around the Bay and it gave us a chance to come with the next Big Plan. This time we would try to carefully pass over top of him so we could get out in front, hit the throttle and try to pull the rope out of it's mandibles. We got a knife out, ready in case things really went to hell we could at least cut the painter.

We slowly got into position, Jim gave me the word from the bow and off we went staying slightly to the right side of the Ray to avoid hitting it. This made him dart off to the left nearly pulling Jim and the bow of the dinghy under water. Luckily the water was still shallow, 6 to 10 feet deep, and he couldn't dive very far. We kept weaving from side to side trying to stay in front of the Beast, but it continued pulling us one way then the next. Finally, after several minutes, the Ray broke free and was last seen slowly gliding away with both fins occasionally breaking the surface.