A Whale of A Time

October had lived up to its climatic reputation. The month had been filled with gray skies and continual precipitation. I know that when people read this, they may believe that I am being dramatic for the sake of the written word, but I can assure you that we did not see the sun for more than an hour or two at a time for a consistent 30 days. This type of clime becomes the expected norm for Southeasterners, especially during the coastal showers of autumn.

                  With this being said, when November began we looked forward to the colder weather and the hope for the transformation of rain into snow. We got both. The surrounding mountains that loom over Sitka are beginning to accumulate snow and the snow-level slowly, but surely, is beginning to creep lower and lower- with the eventual hope of the flakes touching the trails and streets of the town.

                  But with the snow weeks away from hitting sea-level and our first blue sky day in a month, we decided to venture out to sea. In the absence of rain, we let the sun remind our skin what Vitamin D feels like.  Along with the inviting sunshine, the ocean was calm and placid- adding to the enticement. Our friends, the Routons, nicely let us borrow their double kayak. With our northern purchase of our Subaru, aka Birch, we transported the kayak to a local docking spot and launched out to sea.

                  The previous night we had learned that a channel, not too far from town, was the temporary home to many whales. The migrant humpback whales are visiting the nearby waters and we wanted to take the chance to kayak with our enormous mammal friends. One person even mentioned Orcas, but quickly reverted his statement. With this knowledge, we eagerly and excitedly paddled onwards towards the channel of whale occupation.

                  As soon as our paddles touched the water we started to see the dissipation of whale spouts from afar. Our excitement only increased with each stroke forward. We saw boats zooming to and fro from the stretch of water that the whales seemed to be filling.

                  Nearing their waters, we saw spout after spout. With the warm sun shining down on the glittering sea, the humpbacks glistened in the rays as they came-up for air. Keeping a respectable distance from the spouting mammals, we counted four, five, six and then seven and eight whales in the local vicinity.                  

                  We could hear the whales’ breath as they came up for air and we saw their tails as they descended down under the surface to feed or swim below. The nerve-racking minutes when no whales were at the surface made our imagination wander. Would they come-up for air in front of our kayak? Or, would they not see our boat and as they came up for air, and tip us over? These thoughts make our anxiety unnecessarily increase, but the chances of it actually happening are slim.

                  We continued to float and watch as the whales spouted, barely moving. Taking in the day’s serenity and magnificent wildlife reminded us, even in these past few months of occupational overload, that the place we are so fortunate to live in allows any adventure seeker, with the patience to wait for decent weather, to have a whale of a time when they might least expect it.