Chapter 20: Seeking Humpbacks
"Spacious, covered and safety-equipped private boat"
At my stage of life, it is normal to awaken in the middle of the night to tend to business. Both times I was called overnight, the sound and fury of rain and wind gave me angst. When my alarm went off at 5:45 this morning, a peek outside confirmed what i had been hearing all night. Aitutaki had been and is still experiencing torrential rains and high winds. Nothing more than a thunderstorm without the thunder mind you but a bad omen for someone who intends to board a small boat and venture out of the lagoon onto the open ocean in a few hours.
When the beach floods with standing water you know that the heavens have unleashed a great deal of challenge for such a plan.
Sunrise an hour later revealed a break in the nastiness but also showed that the trek from my oceanfront bungalow to the main lodge and breakfast would be an obstacle course if I want to keep my feet dry. "Dry" is a silly goal for someone with the plans I have but, well, dry at breakfast seems a reasonable goal.
One minute later the group WhatsApp group received a text message from Josh: "Good morning team. The weather is bad: we will delay departure by 30 minutes. Pick you up at 8.
Wading to the lobby (only a slight exaggeration) and breakfast, I watched as the skilled ferry boat captain navigated his short crossings. Riding the Irish Rover from Quail Riverside to Quail on the Pointe was never like this.
He would make this trip several times while we, behind wind curtains, ate our breakfast knowing that, in a few minutes, that would be our ride across the cut. The rain, all this time, would come and go, go and come.
True to his word, Josh pulled up at 8:00am to drive us the short fifteen minutes to our departure point. Arriving at the marina we again delayed. There were lots of other people gathered there at the tiny coffee shop waiting for the weather to improve. Finally, a bit over an hour after we were to have departed, Josh and Captain Onu of Bubbles, our boat along with his two mates, Rima and Tiu, welcomed us aboard. There was the obligatory settling in and safety briefing and then we cast off. Inside the lagoon, the water was flat but as we approached the cut which would lead us into the ocean waters, it became clear that we were in for a ride.
Swells of around ten feet and brisk winds tossed us around quite a bit. In these conditions, it would be more difficult than usual to spot a whale. White caps everywhere, horizontal visibility at nothing when the boat was in the trough of a swell, only brief viewing when at the top and high winds which would quickly dissipate a telltale whale spout; well, this wasn't going to be easy.
The overcast blocked the sun but there was no rain. First, Olivia threw up. Soon after, Josi began to turn green and, soon, she threw up. It took a while for Manika to make her own puke bowl. Having taken a sea sickness pill upon arising this morning, I was fine. Martin also escaped seasickness as did the crew. But we all held on tight.
Then, the sun broke through. The chill in the air amplified by the spray hitting you from time to time was dealt a blow by those warming rays. But the water? Still rough. Josh had Onu cut Bubbles twin 200 Yamaha outboards so he could drop the hydrophone. Amazingly, the waters calmed a bit. And, there it was: the song of the whales--clear as a bell. Josh donned mask, fins and snorkel and slid over the side but, even though the sound signature indicated something was near, he couldn't spot anything. As he was literally picked up by giant mate Tui and hauled back aboard, the rest of us avoided the cool waters and remained on board Bubbles.
"They're around here," Josh told us. We could confirm it with our own ears.
"How far?" Josh said around a kilometer or so.
"Which way?" Josh said this hydrophone was not capable of determining a track. We would have to look for spouts or tails.
A couple of times, exuberant mate Rami would see something and urge us to make a heading toward our eleven o'clock position. But, we found nothing.
And so went the morning. More stops offered up more singing but no sightings. Three seasick, nothing doing regarding seeing whales. The seas calmed a bit but it was still tough going. Tough enough that we decided that even though only three of our allotted four hours had elapsed, it was time to cut through the break in the reef and make for home.
More days, better days, lie ahead.
Josi had a call to make so we dropped her back at the hotel. The rest of us stopped to order sandwiches at one spot and for beer and wine and snacks at another before heading to Josh's rental house on the beach to dine on the deck and get to know each other better. By now, the sky had cleared and the wind died down. We talked of this and that from our own perspectives. Martin and Olivia from Singapore, Manika from Mumbai, Josh once of Chicago and now India and me, Kansas City and Vero Beach. I love times such as these. Talk of politics, anti-semitism, music, food, enterprise, enemies and allies all are more enlightening when shared with people who see the world from, literally, a different place. There are many Americans who will never experience times such as this--to their detriment.
Josh's seafront is delightful, even as Paul's Hamlet to the coconut Yorick, "a fellow of infinite jest," rued the opportunities missed.
Soon it was time to return to the hotel to rinse off, write, upload video and photographs and prepare to send this off to all of you.
Was the day a failure? On one count, Yes. We did not swim with humpbacks. On all other counts, surely No. It was a good day.
Tomorrow will be much better.
