Wow.  Nice.

Incredible!  I thought it was just going to be a fly by.

Wow!! That made me think of a book I'd read years ago.  To ensure that I got
the title right, when I asked if any of you had read it, I did a quick
search on the web.  Among other sites, I found this (a portion of an
interview with Michelle Hall):

Charlotte: What's the most amazing underwater experience you've ever had?

Michele: After more than 26 years of diving, it's a little difficult to site
one experience as being the MOST amazing. But if I was pushed to do so, I'd
have to say it occurred on August 30, 1980. Now, the fact that I can
remember the exact date should be a clue to it being a very special
experience.

I'd accompanied Howard on an underwater filming expedition to the Sea of
Cortez, Baja California. He was producing a film about the hammerhead sharks
that school in great number over the Marisula Seamount. Underwater cameraman
Stan Waterman and author Peter Benchley were along as hosts for the show.
Although they both have since become good friends, at the time I was in
absolute awe of meeting these two icons. As we set out on the expedition, I
didn't know that, beyond working with Stan and Peter, I was about to have a
life-changing experience.

Returning from a dive on the seamount, I saw one of the cameramen, Marty
Snyderman, perched on the back of a Pacific manta ray. It was an enormous
animal flying over the seamount with wings that spanned more than 18 feet. I
couldn't believe my eyes. Marty was trying to cut loose a fishing net that
was wrapped around the manta's mouth. As the manta flew by, Marty signaled
to me that he was almost out of air and needed to surface. Just then the
manta turned in my direction and stalled beneath me. In my mind at least,
there was no mistaking its intent for me to pick up where Marty had left
off. I settled down on the ray's back and succeeded in removing the last
tangle of fishing net embedded in its mandible. I can still feel the ray's
twitching body as it reacted to my patting the mangled tissue back into
place. Whether this behemoth thought me Androcles, or what, I'll never know.
But it took me for the ride of my life.

It's difficult to explain what I felt during those next moments. Awe, trust,
exhilaration, tranquility... these words are barely adequate. With no effort
on my part, the ray and I flew around the seamount. My sense of time was
altered, as it seemed we were moving in slow motion. Or maybe I just wanted
it that way; I didn't want the experience to end. At one point we glided
past Howard, Stan and Peter as they returned from a dive. Howard later told
me that upon seeing me perched on the ray's back he'd halted dead in the
water, marveling in disbelief as the ray swept me away, helplessly thinking
he might never see me again!

When I saw my exhaled bubbles splayed behind me instead of rising directly
to the surface, I realized how fast we were moving. As I experienced the
need to equalize the pressure in my ears, I knew we'd begun to descend. But
I was on a magic carpet of my very own, and I was ready to be taken away.
When I checked my pressure and depth gauges my senses returned. I knew I had
to ascend and head for the boat. If the ray had taken me too far away I
could be dealing with an impossible swim back. In the late afternoon light,
the boat crew would surely have difficulty finding me. Just as I began to
worry, I realized we were at the boat's anchor line. The ray had taken me
full circle and was depositing me where we'd started!

For several days following my removal of the net from the giant manta, Grand
Dad (as he became known) returned to the seamount. Before the trip's end,
he'd taken us all for a "ride" and Howard had added a manta ray segment to
the film's storyline. Grand Dad had also inspired a new story for Peter,
which became his novel, "The Girl of the Sea of Cortez."