There are not many places from which I depart with a tear in my eye, but I will be honest with you: I pushed my flight back a day and wished for a delay (which I got) and even sort of hoped to miss my flight. I am quite confident these are the sort of feelings many people have when it is time to leave Newfoundland. They say you leave part of your soul behind, and somewhere between the rugged cliffs dotted with birds, the stormy blue water erupting with humpback whales, the WWII wrecks hidden below and the genuinely kind people above, I think a little bit of my soul was left behind too.

After a smooth night crossing from San Diego, I awoke to the sound of a freed anchor and the gentle tug as it sat firm in the sand. I rose to the deck, eyes wide once the morning’s coffee was prepared, to an almost glass-like sea near the southern tip of San Clemente Island. Cloudy skies presented a grayness over the ocean, but it was no indication of the vibrance and solitude I would soon find beneath the waves.

The two-hour drive south had ended with a spectacular sunrise, saturating the coast in a deep pink that one could feel and breathe. I arrived early to ensure I could find a much-coveted parking space. It was clear and calm—the reason I picked today for a dive trip down the coast.

This first dive would be solo, shallow and relaxing. I wandered back to the car to begin laying out my gear: a 7mm wetsuit, 5mm hooded vest, gloves, booties and, of course, my trusty camera, with wide-angle lens and dome port attached.

An avid diver for over 20 years, Brent Durand is a widely published underwater photographer and dive writer who has served as editor-in-chief of the Underwater Photography Guide and imaging expert at Scuba Diving Magazine and Sport Diver. With a reputation for insightful-yet-simple reviews and tutorial articles, he has written for most of the top dive publications. Helping hundreds of divers “take their photography to the next level,” Durand has led underwater photography workshops in California, the Bahamas, Indonesia, Mexico, the Philippines and Sri Lanka.

The manta rays in Kona waters belong to the Mobula alfredi species. These are reef mantas and, unlike other species, these mantas do not migrate. They spend their lives in the coastal waters of Hawaii. This is the second largest species of mantas and can have a fin span of up to 5.5m (18ft).

Just like all manta rays, they are filter feeders. Mantas swim with their mouth open and take in large amounts of zooplankton. At night, light attracts the zooplankton, and the plankton attracts the mantas.

The parking lot was empty as we unloaded and set up our gear on a downed redwood tree trunk. Today would be a wetsuit dive, since my dive buddy and I would be doing a lot of swimming. The cool steel 117 (15L) tanks were filled to the max. Ziiiiiip.

Snap. Clip. Clip. Zzzzzzzz. Hoooofff.

“OK. Let’s do it.”

The blatant sensationalism of the Discovery Channel's "Shark Week" notwithstanding, the movie Jaws has not done the image of sharks, and great whites in particular, any favours. Unfortunately, perception overrides facts. “Sharks are dangerous and eat people,” say those who know better.