It was not without apprehension that we boarded a catamaran off the coast of Brisbane headed for the particularly evil looking skies out to sea. The reason for this apparently foolish behaviour was the annual migration of humpback whales from Antarctica to the warmer Pacific waters. While the possibility of sighting these enormous mammals was naturally appealing, Australian laws (preventing boats from encroaching too close to the whales) coupled with the inclement weather, doused our levels of expectation.
Thirty minutes into our expedition, the majority of passengers were reviewing the contents of their partially digested lunch as the ocean reminded our boat who was in control. Just as seasickness was claiming its last victims, the rains eased, a complete rainbow appeared and we saw our first whale.
Frustratingly, this first sighting seemed more interested in another vessel (laws cannot stop whales encroaching on boats), and we were restricted to distant observation. Slightly aggrieved and fearing the worst about not seeing any more, we resorted to staring aimlessly into the ocean praying other humpbacks would prove more sympathetic to our photographic needs.
We were not kept waiting long. Two more huge creatures joined the party, idly surfacing for air every couple of minutes. There is something both wondrous and surreal about watching something so large so close. These specimens were allegedly fifteen metres in length and the male would have been the proud owner of a fifty-centimetre penis.
Satisfied, we found ourselves faced with what I imagine is a common whale watching dilemma. Do you stay where you are, continually jostling for position, or do you move to another part of the boat to assume what will hopefully be the best vantage point if more whales arrive? We gambled, opted for the latter and just as we settled into position, it happened.
The other humpbacks had been surprisingly graceful but not particularly athletic. We had not been treated to any of the array of manoeuvres occasionally performed. The latest subject of our fascination introduced itself in the most spectacular of all greetings as it breached less than fifty metres away.
I had no prior experience of breaching whales but when I'd permitted myself to dream of witnessing such feats, I had envisaged a bit of a jump and a big splash. While what actually happened was not a triple somersault with pike, it did involve a twist and was a majestic sight. Women and men alike squealed (the men embarrassingly and involuntarily) and the lucky few who had experienced this display of nature at its most magnificent, remained smug (despite feeling insignificant) for the remainder of the trip, revisiting the memory over and over again.
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