Fitness, Health & Spirit: Close Encounters -Whales

August-September 2000

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.

by Barbara Spencer

Barbara writes: "It's hard to believe I actually sat so calmly
with the whales so close."

Whales!", I yell to my paddling partners as I excitedly point to huge spurts of mist hanging in the air nearby. The sound of the whales surfacing gets lost in the echo of the surf pounding against the shoreline. Here in Clayoquot Sound, the gateway to the Pacific with wind swept islands, spectacular sandy beaches and craggy exposed shoreline, I have travelled to the wildest place I could find.

With the flick of my blade I move closer to the cluster of whale watching boats. My kayak rides the low swell while I wait for a closer encounter. Suddenly, a gray whale breaks water with an explosion of sound, not 20' away, unexpectedly close to my kayak. My head swivels toward the sound which seems to echo off the mountains. He is long, twice the length of my 17' kayak, and powerful, his back mottled with barnacles and scars. A whir of clicking cameras fills the air. Then, the whale submerges and the sea is once more silent.

The wind god is kind today. The route we are taking has a four-mile stretch of completely unprotected, rocky coastline with no landing points. This exposed peninsula is treacherous in raging winds. But this morning, the steady rhythm of the low swell and light wind allows us the luxury of lingering and I am grateful.

With a crack of noisy breathing the whale surfaces again, a paddle length from my kayak. I am electrified with adrenaline. We eye one another as the moments flow by in slow motion.

Out of the corner of my eye, another whale surfaces and the one facing me plunges underneath, up around the other side of my kayak and then they both head downwards.

These whales and I, we are separated by a common yet impenetrable border: we may visit each other's worlds but not dwell in them.

The steady rhythm of the swell is interrupted by huge spurts of air and water being blown into space. You never know where or when they will surface-suddenly they're just there.

Two whales appear and then a third one noisily makes its introduction. My head feels as if on a spring, swivelling in all directions. The whales are playing, putting in time. They swim in a circle around me as if I am the hub of a wheel. Then they split up and one dives down, its spine curled until only the flange of the tail is in sight, leaving a wake of creamy foam. Together the other two travel back and forth, back and forth in a ritual of feeding and resting.

A fourth gray whale slices through the ocean's surface, water glistening off its back like shimmering diamonds. My kayak climbs the wake as the whale brushes by my boat. It joins the others as they dive and surface, dive and surface in a rhythmic motion. Then, all is silent. Here in the sea the whales rest, the biggest breath of life lying in a circle just beneath the surface. A thin rectangular outline, chiselled into the glimmering ocean, articulates each whale's position.

Once again, without warning, the whales surface, each emitting a powerful force of steamy vapour like an erupting geyser punctuating the crystal air. Then, arching their backs, their heads pointed downward, all four descend into the veil of mystique that surrounds these immense yet gentle creatures. They disappear altogether.

Up ahead, the brisk northeasterly will soon move down to batter the coast. My paddling group and I head into the open wild waters towards our destination. As the sea picks up a rhythm of its own, memories of enchantment, haunting and unforgettable, dance wildly across my imagination like a touch of magic.