When you’re sitting on the edge of a small dive boat wearing a thick wetsuit and bulky scuba gear, every movement feels awkward and cumbersome. But when I take a deep breath, I roll backwards into the Atlantic Ocean.
The instant rush of cold water provides relief, and the release of gravity takes the weight off your equipment. I float free, weightless, and settle into the familiar embrace of the ocean.
Taking one last breath from above, I prepare to sink, deflate my jacket, exhale, and descend into the vast blue silence. As I adjust my equipment and familiarize myself with this alien realm, a black silhouette glides beneath me. And one more thing.
I looked up and let out a muffled scream into the regulator. I’m surrounded. Swirling masses of olive green feathers move in hypnotic synchrony, eyes scanning my presence curiously.
I’m on Ambrosio, a small seamount off the southern coast of Santa Maria in the Azores. It’s fitting that the name means “God” in Portuguese.
Beneath this calm surface, a rare sight unfolds every summer. A school of rays, an otherworldly group of more than 50 individuals, gracefully glide through the waters of the mid-Atlantic.
Unlike their more familiar manta ray cousins, devil rays (there are seven species in total) are notoriously shy.
However, in Ambrosio, they approach divers with cautious curiosity, maintaining eye contact and using their cephalic fins (characteristic paddle-like appendages on each side of the head) to maintain their position underwater.
Ambrosio’s Rays
Ana Filipa Sobral (also known as Pipa), founder of Manta Catalog Azores, still remembers the moment she first saw Manta Catalog Azores.
“I was surprised by their behavior and how curious they were about divers,” she says. “I didn’t expect them to be so friendly. Every encounter we’ve had since has been just as special as the first.”
On Ambrosio’s gentle, sunlit days, it’s easy to understand what “Azorean blues” means. Golden sunlight pierces the infinite depths, illuminating its golden wings as it cruises beneath you.
If you’re lucky, a pod of Atlantic bottlenose dolphins may slip by, making their distinctive clicks and whistles, long before you’re spotted. Occasionally, a whale shark floats silently through the scene, and the world’s largest fish is an awe-inspiring presence.
Pelagic predators patrol the deep sea, drawn by nutrient-rich currents, making this seamount invisible on maps, marked only by the occasional up-and-down submersible, making it a biodiversity hotspot.
Even the tiniest details, like the twinkle of microscopic plankton swirling in the current, remind us that this is another world entirely, one that we land-bound humans only get a fleeting glimpse of.
For several months from June to early October each year, Ambrosio is one of the only reliably accessible Gathering Points for Camadrei in the world. But why they chose Ambrosio remains a mystery.
“We know there are a lot of pregnant females. All the animals we see are adults, but we don’t see any juveniles,” Pipa said. “Ambrosio could be a stopping point on the ray’s journey, or it could play a role in breeding and feeding. We don’t know for sure yet, but there’s a good chance we’ll encounter rays here.”
What is a sickle-shaped devil ray?
The devil’s ray is one of the ocean’s most graceful yet least known megafauna. The dorsal side is olive green to brown with dark abdominal markings and distinctive gray and white abdominal markings, each unique like a human fingerprint, and can reach up to 3.4 meters with a wingspan.
These rays are the deepest recorded divers of the manta rays and devil rays, diving to depths of 2,000 meters at near freezing temperatures.
Their brains are kept warm at these extreme depths by a specialized network of arteries known as the reticulum mirabilis, which allows them to forage efficiently in the deep scattering layer, a dense band of tiny organisms that move vertically through the water column.
Despite its size and elegance, the Kamafin faces immense challenges. Reproduction rate is surprisingly slow. Females give birth to one cub every few years, and the cubs mature after about 10 years.
Populations are declining dramatically across the Indian, Pacific, and Atlantic oceans. This is due to targeted fishing, bycatch, and international demand for gill plates used in soups and tonics in the Asian pharmaceutical trade.
Due to this global decline, the species was listed as endangered by the IUCN in October 2025.
Just a month later, at CITES CoP20, the 20th Conference of the Parties to CITES, where governments decide how to regulate international wildlife trade, delegates voted unanimously to add all manta rays and devil rays to Appendix I, giving them the highest level of international protection and banning all commercial trade in their products.
While this landmark decision marked an unprecedented moment of global solidarity, it underscored the precarious reality these animals currently face: their survival remains in limbo.
“Manta rays and devil rays face many direct and indirect threats,” says Pipa.
“The biggest concern by far is overfishing and fishing-related mortality. These are highly mobile and highly migratory animals. Even if they don’t face the same level of threat in the Azores, the same individuals can be fished elsewhere. To protect them effectively, we need to understand their movements.”
Save the sickle-shaped devil ray
Pipa’s journey to the Azores began with a passion for marine life on the Alentejo coast south of Lisbon. This inspired her to become a marine biologist, working on whale shark and manta ray conservation projects in Mozambique before moving to the islands in 2011 to pursue her master’s degree.
She quickly realized that there was limited knowledge about the ecology and biology of rays, and was offered a research opportunity.
“I started hearing about diving trips to see schools of devil rays,” she recalls. “Then I realized that this is a species that you don’t see very often, especially in groups. When I noticed the markings on their bellies, that inspired me to try photo identification. That’s how the Manta Catalog Azores started.”
Since 2012, Pipa has been building the world’s first photographic database of manta rays and devil rays, currently holding records for 339 individuals, documenting their return, growth and migration. Some recur annually, revealing patterns of location fidelity, migration, and reproductive cycles.
Pipa’s research combines a variety of innovative technologies. She collects small skin samples to study sicklefin genetics and understand how the Azores population relates to other parts of the Atlantic Ocean.
She is also using a tool called stereo-video photogrammetry in collaboration with the Lisboa Maritime University. This allows us to measure the wingspan of the rays that swim in front of the device, track their growth, and determine their maturity.
Pipa hopes to introduce non-contact ultrasound testing soon. This is a non-invasive technique recently applied to manta rays that allows researchers to directly scan the ray’s reproductive organs underwater.
“It’s very important to understand how often these animals get pregnant and how often they return to the Azores,” says Pipa.
“Ultrasound testing will allow us to study its reproductive biology in a way that has never been done for this species before.”
For Pipa, working with Sicklefin Devil Rays is personally meaningful. “I think the reason I’m so passionate about this work is because we’re actually working with endangered species, and there’s so much we still don’t know about them,” she says.
“Here we have a fantastic place to gather information about these species, which are of local and global importance. We can actively contribute to wider knowledge of this species and its conservation.”
Although Pipa’s work focuses on research, she has also invested time in community involvement. Citizen science is central to the project, with divers contributing photos and observations, expanding the catalog beyond what a single team could accomplish.
A code of conduct developed in conjunction with the Manta Trust encourages responsible tourism and ensures that interactions with stingrays are safe for both animals and humans.
“It’s about mutual respect and making sure tourism supports conservation rather than threatening it,” Pipa says.
She also emphasizes the power of human connections to encourage conservation.
“I’ve been very focused on research, but what gives me joy these days is getting on a boat with people who have never seen these animals before. From the moment they get out of the water after their interaction, there’s no way they can’t become ambassadors for conservation. Once you establish that connection, that’s what really hits people.”
By focusing on Kamafin as a flagship species, the ripple effects benefit the entire ecosystem.
“If we apply protection for the fins here in the Azores, we can contribute to the conservation of all other species that depend on the same area,” says Pipa.
The Vulnerable status of the long-eared eagle ray, along with CITES’ Appendix I listing, highlights the vulnerability of this species.
“Appendix I protection is essential,” Pipa emphasizes. “Without that, we risk losing these animals before we fully understand their life histories. We can influence what happens locally, but these animals transcend borders. Conservation needs to be global.”
Long-term monitoring in the Azores has helped fill knowledge gaps, but uncertainties remain. Summer populations are dominated by pregnant females, but no juveniles have been observed, raising serious questions about nursery habitat and juvenile survival.
Every character in Pipa’s catalog represents an important part of the story that is still being written. The road ahead is difficult but clear. We need to increase scientific efforts, strengthen national protections, and ensure that the world is committed to enforcing new international laws.
“Flies are amazing animals,” says Pipa. “Their intelligence and curiosity stays with you. When they choose to approach you and investigate, it leaves a lasting impression.”
As I rise from the dive, my eyes follow a hypnotic silhouette as the rays disappear into the blue abyss. I will stay as long as I can and hesitate to leave this fragile and beautiful world.
When I come to the surface, I feel a mixture of elation, mourning for the challenges facing these iconic rays, and fierce hope for their future.
Top image: A sickle-shaped devil ray in the Azores. Credit: Reinhard Dirscherl/Getty Images
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