Living and Birding Gratitude: Whales and Whale Sharks

I am overdue to write an entry here. I have toyed with several ideas regarding what to post about during these unprecedented and disturbing times. I chose not to rant (for now). So this is the deal. Every so often I will post some words and photos regarding some of the experiences that have meant a lot to me. Sometimes they will be from one trip. Sometimes they are from several trips such is today’s, Whales and Whale Sharks. Yes, the massive marine mammals that we all know and love and the largest fish in the world.

I have been very lucky off Port Fairy, Victoria with Whales. I saw a Blue Whale there (at least one) in November of 2017. That was a childhood dream made manifest. As a little kid I heard about the largest animal that ever lived on the Earth. I stared at photos and paintings of them. I was in love with the idea of a creature whose heart was the size of a Volkswagen. And now I have seen one in the sea. When this majestic, massive creature was sideways in the clear blue water of the swell I could see its mass like a train car gliding through the water. My heart felt like it was the size of a Volkswagen as well (photos Rohan Clarke)

Then I saw Sperm Whales off PF in December of 2018. These were closer and we had lots of wonderful looks at this huge toothed whale. The whale of Moby Dick, again my heart was moved to say the least (so I will. I am trying to keep this short).

Then (as many of you know) this past December I was on Richard Baxter’s tour and had the opportunity to swim with dear friends with Whale Sharks just off Christmas Island. That! That was the realisation of a lifelong dream. I now have the head of Kon-Tiki on my left forearm and a simple line drawing of a Whale Shark under it (there will be some shading added to that later after the plague has passed).

I will never forget that experience. I can literally close my eyes, and inside of my mind, relive gazing down on that magnificent fish. The patterns on its back looked like a living, moving Aboriginal painting. It glided in seemingly effortless slow motion with me. My heart catches for moment in the memory, but it is difficult to hold on to clearly. That is why I need to write, as well as stare at Bill Betts’ wonderful underwater photos of the shark and me. I can remember the bubbles running across my skin, I can hear the sound of my snorkelling, and I can feel the wonder, the overwhelming ecstasy I felt as that giant fish rose up just beneath me and he swam with me. I was on the surface and that shark (the last of three) came up to me. If that is the last memory in my mind before I one day join “the great twitch beyond,” I will have no regrets. I swam with Whale Sharks. I really did.