The Others

One rather slow day at the lab I received a phone call from one of the professors at Berkeley needing some specimens of a particular fish available in the outer Bodega Bay area. I had begun noting where the best places were to acquire popular research specimens so I was confidant that I could fill the order. I said I would get them to him within the next few days. It was still early in the morning so I went around the lab to find someone to go out with me to help with the lines. As it turned out no one was available. I really did not want to go out alone but I had promised the professor so I got my gear together and took “Sulu Girl”, our 35 ft cruiser, out through the channel and into the open ocean. I noticed that there was a thick fog bank a ways out but it was hard to tell how close and how fast it was moving, but I figured I had plenty of time. Once I got my lines out I rechecked the fog bank and yes, it had come in rapidly and from not far away. I hauled in my lines because I did not want to be caught in a fog so close to the cliffs with a significant swell running (The North Coast of California is historically notorious for sunken boats and ships that have gone up on the rocks of that craggily coast). I did not have radar or sonar so I had to do my navigation by depth finder and chart. Not being particularly efficient at this sort of thing, I realized that there was indeed a real good chance I would end up on the rocks. If this was the case I was very definitely in serious danger, perhaps more than I had ever been in my 30 years of life so far.

The fog was miserably thick, I could barely see the bow of the boat and I felt as alone as I could possibly imagine. My knees were actually weak! Suddenly I heard a loud eruption of water in front of me and a huge black mass exploded from The Sea, arched in front of the boat and came down with a thunderous splash, rocking Sulu Girl and just about stopping my heart. I knew it was a whale (the first one I had ever seen) but I had absolutely no idea what else to think except, “damn, that was close” and “I hope it’s friendly”.

I couldn’t see it but it started to circle my boat, blowing loudly and not causing a ripple, but I knew it was close, real close. This went on for an indeterminate time during which my attention was drawn away from the possible disaster, and I begin to “feel” the energy of this whale, AND it gave me strength and hope….I am not alone.

When the fog cleared, I found myself directly in front of The jetty leading into the harbor, a safe place compared to where I had set and hauled my lines. The whale left at the moment the fog lifted and I didn’t see it’s blow again. I contemplated the significance of this “event” for quite some time until I came to the conclusion (reinforced now by dozens of similar but not as dramatic moments) that this whale “knew” I was an intelligent creature like itself and decided to help me because it also “knew” I was in a dangerous situation. I have had a number of people hear this story and they suggest alternative explanations. It does not matter, I “know” that that whale could feel my desperation and decided to help a fellow intelligent creature. Did this experience compel me to start on my journey with the Whales, oddly enough, no. I did not see another whale for 20 years and than it was they that called me back to the sea.