Whale Watching in Monterey Bay
October 12, 2024
A family of seals plays happily in the harbor as our whale watching tour ship pulls away, the vibration of the motor numbing my core and deafening my ears. One brave pinniped twirls out of the water beside us as if to catch a better look before splashing back into the boat’s wake. I nuzzle into my husband and hold tight to my toddler, bundled in his life jacket, as three loud horns indicate the start of our journey into the Pacific Ocean. My focus is on the pelicans and gulls that fly parallel to us, and it is not for some time that I realize—with some trepidation—that I can no longer see the shore.
A haze has descended upon the horizon, and everywhere I look there is only water and fog. The familiar little lappings against the hull have transformed into high seas. Waves like rolling hills tug at our center of gravity, sending our insides on a slow but powerful rise and fall. I am grateful for the dramamine; and I divert my mind from shipwrecks of old, invited by man’s testing and taunting of nature. My life is entirely dependent upon this vessel, which hijacks the buoyancy of birds and the propulsion of fish to infiltrate a world otherwise unseen: the open sea.
We wait. A frigid wind, speckled with salty droplets, pulls my hair from its tie, and the ship’s steamy wake sprays the passengers at the stern. My friend and hostess Christine brings me hot cocoa, which warms my chilly fingertips through the wavy ridges of its paper cup, and sends sparks down my sternum as I sip. Just as my eyes begin to glaze over, the engine slows and we are told over the intercom that we are not alone. Risso’s Dolphins—rare due to their typical shyness—slice through the waves in synchronized rows, silhouetted against the blinding sunlight that illuminates the haze!
My toddler decides that now is the time to throw a fit, so we are unable to enjoy the dolphins for long; but they are not why we are here, and soon the ship moves on in search of whales. I’ve seen countless whales before—albeit, in books and films. To see them with the naked eye is another thing entirely. When the first humpback whale’s mountainous back peaks up through the surf emitting a hissing cloud through its blowhole, I gasp and Iet out an involuntary cry. This is no documentary. I feel their presence, I hear their movements, I smell their breath.
It is no joke when the tour guide warns us that the latter is unmistakably unpleasant. A few seconds after the vertical spray of the whale’s exhale, we are hit with a cavernous stench of stale rotting low tide. Even this can’t wipe the smile from my face, however, as I watch the creature’s spiny back arch sharply and gulp back into the abyss. Just before it disappears, the whale flashes a white fingerprinted tail.
The group aboard the ship shuffles from one side of the boat to the other, gripping poles for support of their wobbly sea legs, as the crew tells us where to search. I press my camera’s viewfinder to my eye to get a better look through my telephoto lens. The first two whales are joined by a masculine pair tarnished in gray battle scars, who proudly assert their dominance by thrashing at one another under the waves. The females, however, are disinterested; and carry on their graceful greetings unfazed, accompanied by the occasional sea lion that bounds alongside them in the mist.
Suddenly, the fog is lifted. The sun illuminates the water and reveals a frame of mountains beyond the bay. They‘d never left. In every direction, as far as the eye can see, are humpback whales! Like fireworks on the horizon, their windy rainbow-tinted geysers grace the seascape, even as we are transfixed by one that emerges just yards from the ship. Its sudden arrival sends my heart galloping and my fingers quaking like the wings of a moth. The massive animal is so close that I can see the bumps around its blowhole and its white fin beneath the shallows. For the first time, I have to zoom out with my camera to fit its body into frame.
The three-hour tour has flown by in what feels like minutes. When it is time to begin our return journey, I receive the news with the bittersweet satisfaction of a well-enjoyed meal, now gone. I let my camera rest at my side. My fellow passengers turn away from the stern as the ship’s engine comes to life, while I alone gaze out over the ocean in one last farewell. And I alone see the breach.
A humpback whale bursts through the surface of the water, nose to tail arching gracefully over the wake. It twists to show off every angle of its impressive body, as if to say, Glad you enjoyed the show! I squeal and point frantically for Christine to see it too, but I am unable so much as to form words or lift my camera before the moment is gone. Our friendly whale has returned to the sea, and we are on our way home. Pure, exhilarating elation overwhelms me and I am brought to tears. This is more than I could have hoped for. As the choppy water of the open ocean gradually smooths into glass, the sun sinks to kiss it in a molten light show of diamond shards, and I am content.
