Whale Summer - conclusion
January 4th 2007 20:03
My father was sitting opposite me, concentrating on his own line. By the time I finally managed to squeak enough to get his attention, the whale was gently bobbing beside the boat with an eye just above the water line, staring directly at me.
To see these magnificent creatures in their natural habitat is an over powering experience and privilege, something I was keenly aware of, despite my current situation.
I briefly remember my father’s reassuring voice, calmly saying something like “Nothing to worry about. Just a pod passing through. They’ll be gone soon.” And I distinctly recall him making some grumbling remark about the amount of salmon they would eat on their way, when the water around us dramatically changed. On the surface all seemed fine, but our boat got up an unsettling rock from the pure force of water being violently moved about below.
The next few minutes are but a pin-point in my life tapestry, but they are stitched in my memory forever and count as a highlight that will be forever cherished.
From the corner of my eye I saw my father grab the side of the boat. Although a simple and far from panicked gesture for most people, I knew a move like it to be completely out of character for him. So without even thinking … I stood.
I saw him look at me with alarm, but no sound came from him. His arm shot out in my direction and then I was gone. I left the boat in a dream like fashion. As if an invisible force had picked me up and thrown me overboard. The clear hot sky was above me, then huge bubbles were floating around my head, weaving in and around, like beautiful, shiny new marbles jostling and bouncing to the surface. And then for the first and only time in my life I felt panic in the water. I loved swimming and learned how to even before I walked. But as I continued my down ward decent my only thought was to get my limbs working on projecting myself upwards. It would have been only seconds before I consciously made the effort but it felt as though time was snaking through the thin neck of an hour glass.
Where was I?
Where were they?
What would they do with me?
I could not see them, but I could physically feel them, like dark marauders lurking in the shadows. I had no idea how many there were but I knew they were all around me. Getting my bearings I could see the bottom of our boat just below the surface, rocking rhythmically with the water. At this point I was not struggling for air but how was I to proceed? Should I surface and swim for the boat, or stay underwater and make my way over. My mind was racing over these points, but as it turned out I had little choice. The next thing I knew I was lifted from behind and rushed to the surface so quickly I lost all balance and came up like a broken doll. Or so my father later told me.
To this day I do not believe that the whales meant me any harm. It was not their fault that I was so uncoordinated I could not take a ride with a little more decorum. And if I was just to be a plaything, why send me in the precise direction of our boat? So precise in fact that I my head was on a direct flight path with it! The back of my head slammed into the side of the boat, stunning me and setting my father back with such a jolt that he was unable to grab me before I slid back into the water. But within seconds of this dramatic show I was effortlessly lifted with great care and held gently beside the boat so that all my father had to do was reach over and ease me in. As I rested on this gentle giant I was surprised at how warm he felt. And how human.
They left then. The water slowly returned to normal. The air around my ears seemed deadly quiet compared to the noise I had just experienced underwater. And my head was only slightly grazed. We watched in silence as a few fins broke surface in the distance, and then they were gone.
Dad wrapped me in towels and tucked me into the bow. I was shaken and very wet but no doubt due to my youth and the speed with which it all happened, all I felt was exhilaration! Dad kept shaking his head and repeating over and over that he thought he had seen it all but this ... this was amazing!
“We have some fish story to tell, eh Dad?”
I smiled up at him from my wet corner. His face had gone a ghostly pale but he smiled back and rubbed my hair with a towel. Looking back down the strait as though he could find an answer there he said “We sure do Lassy. We sure do.”
And as any true fisherman would, before taking me home, he stopped to spin our tale to a few friends, as I have done many times myself.
I always felt as though I had a kindred spirit with Killers after that day. No doubt it was incidents like mine that brought the Orcas to be such a spiritual part of the local Haida Indians’ culture. For I am sure tales such as mine go back for centuries.
I was to loose my father to cancer a few years later, and we never went on another fishing trip, but what ever it was that made me say “yes” to going with him that day, whether it be fate, chance or something more, I am forever grateful. We shared a very rare and special event that bound us in a way that few things could. Although he never spoke it aloud I’m sure it was the fact that I was returned safe to him that he was thankful for. But for me it was the chance to experience an unforgettable moment that would never have been possible had it not been for him. He gave me my Whale Summer. Something I will always treasure.
To see these magnificent creatures in their natural habitat is an over powering experience and privilege, something I was keenly aware of, despite my current situation.
I briefly remember my father’s reassuring voice, calmly saying something like “Nothing to worry about. Just a pod passing through. They’ll be gone soon.” And I distinctly recall him making some grumbling remark about the amount of salmon they would eat on their way, when the water around us dramatically changed. On the surface all seemed fine, but our boat got up an unsettling rock from the pure force of water being violently moved about below.
From the corner of my eye I saw my father grab the side of the boat. Although a simple and far from panicked gesture for most people, I knew a move like it to be completely out of character for him. So without even thinking … I stood.
I saw him look at me with alarm, but no sound came from him. His arm shot out in my direction and then I was gone. I left the boat in a dream like fashion. As if an invisible force had picked me up and thrown me overboard. The clear hot sky was above me, then huge bubbles were floating around my head, weaving in and around, like beautiful, shiny new marbles jostling and bouncing to the surface. And then for the first and only time in my life I felt panic in the water. I loved swimming and learned how to even before I walked. But as I continued my down ward decent my only thought was to get my limbs working on projecting myself upwards. It would have been only seconds before I consciously made the effort but it felt as though time was snaking through the thin neck of an hour glass.
Where was I?
Where were they?
What would they do with me?
I could not see them, but I could physically feel them, like dark marauders lurking in the shadows. I had no idea how many there were but I knew they were all around me. Getting my bearings I could see the bottom of our boat just below the surface, rocking rhythmically with the water. At this point I was not struggling for air but how was I to proceed? Should I surface and swim for the boat, or stay underwater and make my way over. My mind was racing over these points, but as it turned out I had little choice. The next thing I knew I was lifted from behind and rushed to the surface so quickly I lost all balance and came up like a broken doll. Or so my father later told me.
To this day I do not believe that the whales meant me any harm. It was not their fault that I was so uncoordinated I could not take a ride with a little more decorum. And if I was just to be a plaything, why send me in the precise direction of our boat? So precise in fact that I my head was on a direct flight path with it! The back of my head slammed into the side of the boat, stunning me and setting my father back with such a jolt that he was unable to grab me before I slid back into the water. But within seconds of this dramatic show I was effortlessly lifted with great care and held gently beside the boat so that all my father had to do was reach over and ease me in. As I rested on this gentle giant I was surprised at how warm he felt. And how human.
They left then. The water slowly returned to normal. The air around my ears seemed deadly quiet compared to the noise I had just experienced underwater. And my head was only slightly grazed. We watched in silence as a few fins broke surface in the distance, and then they were gone.
Dad wrapped me in towels and tucked me into the bow. I was shaken and very wet but no doubt due to my youth and the speed with which it all happened, all I felt was exhilaration! Dad kept shaking his head and repeating over and over that he thought he had seen it all but this ... this was amazing!
“We have some fish story to tell, eh Dad?”
I smiled up at him from my wet corner. His face had gone a ghostly pale but he smiled back and rubbed my hair with a towel. Looking back down the strait as though he could find an answer there he said “We sure do Lassy. We sure do.”
And as any true fisherman would, before taking me home, he stopped to spin our tale to a few friends, as I have done many times myself.
I always felt as though I had a kindred spirit with Killers after that day. No doubt it was incidents like mine that brought the Orcas to be such a spiritual part of the local Haida Indians’ culture. For I am sure tales such as mine go back for centuries.
I was to loose my father to cancer a few years later, and we never went on another fishing trip, but what ever it was that made me say “yes” to going with him that day, whether it be fate, chance or something more, I am forever grateful. We shared a very rare and special event that bound us in a way that few things could. Although he never spoke it aloud I’m sure it was the fact that I was returned safe to him that he was thankful for. But for me it was the chance to experience an unforgettable moment that would never have been possible had it not been for him. He gave me my Whale Summer. Something I will always treasure.
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Comment by Ash
Australian Traveller
Flashes of memories
What a story! It never ceases to amaze me the stories that come from gentle giants like this. Your story had me on the edge of my seat and finally with a lump in my throat.
An excellent tale which I thoroughly enjoyed. i can see why it would be a highlight in anyones life.
Thanks for sharing it.
Ash