A Sea Venture

For nearly two decades, my friend Terry, a Vietnam-era Navy veteran, shared an extraordinary bond with a giant Pacific manta ray named Willy. Every day, Willy would slap his massive wing against the hull of Terry’s boat, calling him to the sea. Terry would slip on his SCUBA gear, plunge into the water, and ride on Willy’s back through the crystalline waters of Isla San Benedicto, a remote volcanic island 250 miles offshore. But life moves on, and Terry hadn’t seen Willy in over ten years.

The ocean, however, has a way of bringing old friends back together.

Two separate cruisers had passed through Isla San Benedicto and claimed they’d seen an exceptionally large manta with distinct chevron markings — markings that matched Willy’s perfectly. When Terry heard the news, he called me up and we started talking. What if it really was Willy? What if he was still out there, waiting? Terry was really worried that Willy would think he had forgotten about him. The problem was, Terry didn’t have a boat capable of making the long journey anymore and he was 80 years old. It’s a challenging place to sail too and dive, even for experts in their prime.

That’s when Dan Fitzgerald stepped up.

Dan, who owns a concrete business in San Diego, is one of Terry’s old friends and a passionate diver. He also happens to own Sea Venture, an incredibly capable offshore expedition vessel. Dan didn’t hesitate — he and Terry were going back to Isla San Benedicto to search for Willy.

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The Crew and the Vessel

Sea Venture is the perfect boat for this kind of expedition. She is  a solid, ocean-going vessel with all the bells and whistles you could ask for. She is equipped with a massive Seakeeper gyroscope that keeps her steady even in rough seas, which makes a huge difference when we’re 250 miles offshore. She has a powerful onboard compressor, so we can fill several tanks at once and keep up the dive schedule. Inside, the salon and galley are spacious and comfortable — the kind of place you could relax after a long day of diving. We bought plenty of beer, in fact, too much. While provisioning, the party split up at the store and the alcohol supplies were bought twice. Don’t worry, we found room for it all someplace!

Below decks, the cabins are cozy and private, giving everyone a place to recharge. Dan and Julio, the captain, will sleep up in the pilot house so they can keep an eye on the instruments and make sure the ship stays safe through the night. Knox, the deckhand, says he prefers to sleep outside up on the flybridge, under the stars, with nothing but the sound of the ocean around him.

Along with Terry and Dan, we are a small, tight-knit crew:

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  Dawn — Terry’s wife, an excellent diver, and a close friend of Willy’s. She was there for many of those early dives and shared in the magic of the connection between Terry and the manta.

• Johnny Friday — An underwater photographer who came along to try to capture the reunion on film if we could find Willy.
• Ian — A safety diver who was there to help keep everyone safe from sharks and watch for any issues, especially with Terry, since diving at his age came with extra risks.
• Julio — The captain of Sea Venture, a seasoned pro who knew how to handle offshore conditions and would make sure we stayed on course and out of trouble.
• Knox — The deckhand, ready to do whatever needed doing, whether it was helping divers in and out of the water or fixing gear.
• Me — I’m a documentary filmmaker, and I sensed a story was developing. With my film crew, I planned to film everything happening above the water, while Johnny covered everything below.
• Chance - My director of photography, a.k.a the cameraman
• Galen - My sound guy, you know, the one with the boom pole and what looks like a dead cat on the end.

Setting Sail

The expedition was set to last ten days. It was the tail end of hurricane season, and Isla San Benedicto sat right in the middle of hurricane alley, so we were watching the weather carefully.

We left the dock under a canopy of stars, the lights of La Paz glimmering on the water like a bed of blurry jewels. The air was warm and still, but there was a tension to it — the quiet before the unknown. The crew bustled around the deck, running last-minute checks and securing gear, their movements lit by the soft glow of deck lights.

Then, as we navigated out of the harbor, something ghostly appeared in the channel. The massive, pale bow of a sunken yacht rose out of the dark water like a specter. It was a 120-foot vessel, wrecked and sunk by a hurricane just the week before. We put the engines in neutral and drifted for a while, spotlighting the wreck and staring in silence. It was an eerie reminder of the raw power of the ocean — and the risks we were taking by heading into its heart.

After a few minutes of quiet reflection, Dan throttled the engines back up, and Sea Venture pushed forward into the night. The wreck faded into darkness, and we aimed our bow toward open water, the hull cutting through the waves as we began our long voyage.

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