11-06-26
By Fyllis Hockman
"Orcas on right, 9 o'clock," someone cried out,
and I tried desperately to spot a spout or tail or
fin a mile and a half out. Still, it was the
closest I'd ever come to a whale up to now, and I
could be patient.
Looking around at my fellow passengers aboard
the Orca Enterprises, a 3 1/2-hour whale-watching
expedition in Juneau, Alaska, I realized that the
idea of seeing a whale was almost as exciting as
the actual viewing of a fin or part of the flank.
Visitors look at an unidentifiable part in the
blink of an eye, but it doesn't dim their
enthusiasm any. Still they shouted out, "Wow, did
you see that? It's huge!"
Cameras and binoculars consistently pointed at
where the whale just was in hopes of catching him
there when he reappeared, like paparazzi shooting
a celebrity, but of course he'd moved, so the
vigil started again for the next fleeting
exposure. Occasionally one surfaced enough to
actually confirm we'd seen a whale, and we
thought, "Yes, now that's what I'm talking about."
Captain Larry, whose beard extended almost to
his navel and whose tall tales were almost as
long, entertained us with seafaring trivia while
naturalist and whale researcher Jack astounded us
with whale-watching lore. The orca or killer
whale, we learned, is actually the world's biggest
dolphin. They are the social butterflies of the
whale world and hang out together in family
"pods"; the much larger, more independent
humpbacks tend to travel alone or in loose-knit
groups. Unlike all their other ocean-dwelling
neighbors, they don't worry much about predators.
Their most feared stalker is SeaWorld.
I was beginning to feel a little frustration at
the evasive nature of the orca. After all, this
was called a whale-watching tour, not a
whale-glimpsing one. Thank goodness for the
humpbacks. Weighing in at the size of a large boat
— as much as 50 feet long and tipping the scales
at 40 tons — these babies can put on quite a show.
All we saw at first was a sliver of black. Then
a wayward spiral of spray caught everyone's
attention. With experience, the eager onlookers
recognized this as a prelude to an impressive
denouement: the huge tail kicked up, wavered
teasingly and then sleekly disappeared.
Pandemonium broke out on deck, and that alone made
the whole trip worthwhile. The fact that this
first-rate act continued to occur at about
eight-minute intervals was just a bonus. It also
made the humpback a lot more predictable than the
orca and thus much easier to see and cheer about.
Jack, who narrated much of the goings-on,
clearly enjoyed what he was doing even after years
of whale-watching and research. He explained that
many of the whales who visit Alaska every year
hail from Maui, where they spend the winter —
smart whales. Also smart Jack, who winters there,
as well, studying the very same whales in both
habitats. He identified the most active humpback
as Flame, an old friend of his from Maui and the
mother of four baby whales.
A frequent part of whale-watching tours (though
not of ours) is watching the "bubble-netting"
feeding technique. Humpback whales gather together
and blow air through their air-holes in order to
herd schools of small fish into a tight ball
through which the whales then plunge. It's said to
be quite a feat — and feast — to watch.
It's also said that the most spectacular
whale-watching experience in Alaska is the annual
gray whale migration. Every year some 20,000 gray
whales make their way from their winter hideaways
to the cold-water feeding grounds of the Bering
Sea. From the end of March until early May, these
giant transient visitors can be easily observed
from a variety of whale-watching cruises, large
and small. It's something I'll look forward to on
my next trip.
But whales were not the sole attraction on this
expedition. Bald eagles in Alaska are as plentiful
as pigeons in New York, but that doesn't diminish
their majesty in flight. Stellar sea lions, the
largest of the seal populace, can be seen lounging
on the rocks along the shoreline, bleating and
bellowing so loud as to drown out the boat's noisy
motor. Also on display were harbor seals, several
dozen of which were swimming along the shore,
their heads bobbing in the water like slippery
brown jack-in-the-boxes. They were a lot less
enamored of the whales than we were as the orcas
are their most common predator.
And so story and nature come full-circle: both
the harbor seals and I were watching the whales
closely — but for very different reasons.
WHEN YOU GO
For more information, visit
www.orcaenterprises.com. The price for the 3
1/2-hour tour is $120 per adult, $57 per child.
Fyllis Hockman is a freelance travel writer. To
read features by other Creators Syndicate writers
and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate
website at www.creators.com.
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