I was in a small boat surrounded by vastly vaster whales. They rose to breath and then dived, they paced the boat, they approached the boat for pats and hugs and kisses. The horizon was filled with them.
It was then I observed a behaviour I had never seen before, and I began to suspect that it had never been recorded by anyone. The whale by the boat was spinning like a top in a horizontal plane, a glorious exuberant detonation of excitement.
It was then I woke up, but the excitement of my contribution to science and the deeper joy of my communion with the whales took some time to fade. The day before I had been speaking at Stanford’s Literary Festival at the Destinations travel show at Olympia – about my new book Ten Million Aliens — and there I had met three people who had shared a whale adventure with me.
We were with the travel company Wildlife Worldwide in San Ignacio Lagoon in Baja California, Mexico. Here the grey whales comes for the summer, all crowded together because at this time of year they don’t eat, so they’re not in competition for food. They really are everywhere. Every day you see dozens. It’s a party, in short.
And they do indeed come up to the boat to be patted and petted, or just to pace themselves alongside the boat. It really is the most extraordinary experience. As we humans talked of old whale-times in London, we remembered one lovely woman, a midwife, who cried every single time she saw a whale.
But I was most moved by the thought that this lagoon was once a killing-field. The whales were called devil-fish for the intelligent and belligerent way they would seek out and capsize open boats. We were all in just such an open boat: and yet the whales sought us out only for their own amusement. When whale-tourism first began in San Ignacio, some of the whales that came up to the boat bore unmistakable harpoon scars.
Forgiveness?
Don’t talk wet.
But whales and humans really do come together, each of their own volition, and apparently in search of nothing but a good time. That really is something, is it not?
Such things as dreams are made on.
David Valentine says
2 February 2015 at 7:05 pmLovely to read your witty wise witterings again Mr Barnes. I miss my weekly installment.
Simon Barnes says
6 February 2015 at 2:53 pmNice to have you reading me here then.
Brian Goldfarb says
2 February 2015 at 9:30 pmNot just whales! Some years back, we took the train across the Rockies (and that’s a Barnes posting in itself, Simon!) and then a cruise up the Alaskan Inside Passage. Ignoring the cruise passengers only interested in the booze and the bling at our ports-of-call, some of took the wild-life excursions.
On one of them, in electric boats so as not to pollute the waters, a pod of Doll Porpoises (looking just like small killer whales!) surfed the bow-wave, and wasn’t that exciting! What on earth did porpoises and dolphins do before humans came along with ships that moved fast enough to create bow-waves for them to surf?
It clearly (trying to avoid anthropomorphism) gives them pleasure. Just another indicator that we need to treat the planet and its inhabitants (not least the cetaceans) with extreme care.
That it gives us pleasure as well is a bonus, but not one to be taken for granted.
Simon Barnes says
6 February 2015 at 2:54 pmMany thanks for these words, you see it just as I do. If a smart animal like a dolphin can’t have fun, what’s the fun in being smart?
craftyclara says
3 February 2015 at 5:50 pmI’m afraid I too would be hard pressed not to cry at my first encounter with our glorious whales, not traveled to see any as yet but hopefully I will …
Simon Barnes says
6 February 2015 at 2:55 pmPut it on your list and pack the Kleenex, it’ll be the journey of your life.
Ian Honeyman says
6 February 2015 at 7:19 pmMuch enjoyed Ten Million Aliens (as I knew I would) and enhanced the pleasure by cross referencing some of the chapters with Richard Dawkins’ The Ancestors Tale which contains some awesome scholarship. Great books both.
Simon Barnes says
13 February 2015 at 1:29 pmThanks for those kind words. Dawkins is indeed a great man… when writing about evolution.