Hi Melissa

Surely there is a magazine you could send this story to.
Maybe with a snapshot of Spot near your boat.

I bet even your local newspaper would run this.

More people should read this than just us.

Maryann


in article , Melissa at
wrote on 3/23/06 3:02 AM:

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22 March, 2006

I really wanted to get out earlier today, but "stuff to do" kept me
in the house until pretty late in the afternoon. Still though, with a
little over two hours of daylight left, I finally got to enjoy a
short paddle in my backyard pond (aka Pacific Ocean).

It's been raining steadily today. Not a hard rain, and just moderate
wind (forecasted at 8-18 knots, but it stayed at the lower end of
that, and only started picking up a bit on my way home). Since I
didn't have much daylight left, I didn't want to spend any time
loading the boat on the car and driving to where I had originally
planned to launch (a bit further up the coast), so I just carried the
boat across the beach and launched into the surf. Not much swell, but
enough surf to splash my face as I punched my way out through the
zone.

Now beyond the surf zone, I was in open water. I always love the
feeling of being "out to sea" in my little boat. I paddled only about
a mile offshore, but it was far enough so that I could enjoy a nice
wide view of the bluffs as I made my way north, toward a few offshore
rocks that were once part of a headland, long since washed away. I
tried to imagine the time lapse erosion of the land, and thought
about the stubbornness of these few remaining rocks, standing defiant
against one of the great forces of nature all these many years.

As the rocks drew nearer, and me and my boat danced along on familiar
waters, I marveled at the fact that no matter how many times I've
paddled these waters in the past several years, there's always
something different to feel, and to perceive. I just can't predict
what will catch my eye, my ears, or my imagination. Then, as if to
remind me not to drift too far into my daydreams, a familiar sound,
followed immediately by an equally familiar pungent mist...whale
breath! :-)

Yes indeed, it was my old friend "Spot", a name both myself and the
local fishermen have called him for years, because of the distinctive
white spot on his starboard side. He's one of our resident "couch
potatoes", as he doesn't bother to migrate between Baja and Alaska
every year. He's a young one, and he's been growing quite a bit each
year. When I first started paddling with him nearly nine years ago,
he was really quite small...as Gray Whales go, anyway. Now he's
becoming quite the teenager, and the sound of his breath is growing
fuller, deeper.

Though I know that these resident whales do swim over a large
territory, most of the time, I encounter them in a large bay a few
miles south of here, where they seem to have found plenty of food to
keep them busy and happy. Though all the residents here will spend
quite a bit of time with me, Spot is one of the three who have spent
even more time with me than some of the others...swimming alongside,
and gliding just inches underneath my boat's hull, sometimes
spyhopping right next to me, and often enough, surprising me with a
"hello" just when I'm beginning to think they're all off somewhere
else for the day.

I don't know if it really means anything to the whales or not, but
for many years now, I've tapped a particular rhythm on my boat when I
know they're around...just to let them know where I am. I may just be
imagining it, but often enough, it seems that my tapping will call
them, because so many times, just minutes after I tap my rhythm, they
will appear at my side. And so I tap away. By the way, if anyone has
any ideas about tapping their boats, I shall respectfully ask that
you tap your own code, as this one is mine! :-)

So here we are, Spot swimming ahead, diving, then reappearing at my
stern, then swimming up alongside again. A few times, while
alongside, he rolls over a bit, and I catch a glimpse of his eye. Hi
Spot! :-) I ask him if he's out here wondering, like I am, when we'll
be seeing the first of the migrating whales, but he doesn't answer.
He seems content to just swim circles around me, and I am content to
let him do so. We paddle and swim like this for almost twenty
minutes, when I realize that I'll have to turn back soon if I'm to
make it back home before dark. I tell him that I have to go home
soon. Again, no answer...swimming is good enough.

I turn around, and begin to paddle home. For about ten more minutes,
Spot tags along, and then, a nice little spyhop just off my bow, then
a gentle fluke lifting dive, and he's off to somewhere else. As I
paddle the rest of the way home, I think about this young whale, this
magnificent creature that seems to know me, and doesn't mind spending
a bit of time with me now and again. I am a paddler, and I know just
how fortunate I am.

- --
Melissa

PGP Public Keys: http://www.freewebs.com/kuviahunnihautik/

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