To Be Whaled
Written By Kim-Ly Thompson
Two months on the North Coast seem to have sailed by with these strong northwesterly winds blowing the day by to greet a star filled sky. Peppered throughout my reflections of this summer so far are several truly stirring whale encounters – Bear, the white-fluked humpback that greeted the Picard’s and I as we first pulled into Whale Point; the matriarch orca A30, who so curiously rushed towards Stan, Sophie and I on board the Hawk Bay zodiac; beautiful D13 (orca) who’s interest in our land-based research slowed her travels through the kelp beyond the cabin before joining the rest of her family; or Robust, the young humpback whale who decided the Elemiah and it’s passengers were worthy of her graceful dance.
One humpback whale spy hops while the other dives.
I can say with certainty that anyone who’s encountered a whale here, whether at Whale Point, the Wall, onboard the Elemiah, or otherwise, knows that there is a deeper meaning to the word “whale” than the Oxford English Dictionary’s very dry“a very large marine mammal with a streamlined hairless body, a horizontal tail fin, and a blowhole on top of the head for breathing.”
It would seem that a proper adjective is in order.
Perhaps it would go something like this:
Whaled: A psychological state following an encounter with a cetacean during which you are made aware of their own awareness – that as much as you are watching them, they are watching you. A concoction of awe, giddy amazement, humbleness, and inspiration with a small pinch of sorrow. Tears often ensue: Upon their return, they were thoroughly whaled.
Humpback Whales travel in a group.
It could be used to described how one feels about of the enormity of a humpback whale as she glides under the hull of the boat, with pectoral fins extended as if cradling its two-legged passengers.
Or the glow of her belly as she gracefully lifts her fluke, with utmost control and awareness mere feet from your own body. It might capture the feeling of being a guest in her waters – the shift that is felt when your eyes meet hers as she lifts her head with time stilling grace from her watery medium to yours. It resonates with the meeting of two worlds in a confused yet compassionate understanding.
A state of whale-ment will deepen yet another degree as you realize that she, her own island of barnacled ecosystems, has become the vessel of several of our own hopes and aspirations. Live with curiosity and grace. Take only what is needed and give all you can. Foster life and inspire awe.
With a final dive, she’ll spread her wisdom elsewhere, leaving in her wake a final footprint upon the sea’s ever changing surface.
Three humpback whales dive in Camaano Sound.
Yes, it would appear that, in my time here, I’ve been thoroughly whaled indeed.
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It’s around 5 am when I begin to stir. The faint sounds of the resident orca family known as the A30s filling the small, six-by-four meter cabin perched on the rocks, brings me into consciousness. The world’s greatest alarm clock. I am alone on this island as I wriggle out of my cosy nest, switch on my lamp and fumble around for my glasses. The whispers of light from the start of the day hover faintly above Vancouver Island as I peer out of the cabin, adjusting my eyes.
Having launched the drone with a petri dish attached to it, we fly the drone through multiple exhales, collecting a fine mist of sticky, clear coloured whale blow within the dish. Crucial at this moment in time is for us to capture a photo of the humpback’s tail fluke as it rolls into view, or of a fin whale’s dorsal fin, as they prepare for a deep dive.
Within 30 seconds I am standing on the big deck of our little cabin, launching the first of two research drones into the air. I’ve got Eric standing next to me, camera in hand, a second set of eyes on the drone and the humpback whale, maximising our chances of locating it from the air.
