JOURNAL EXCERPT

We had seen scattered whales on our journey north but cooperative feeders eluded us until we hit Point Gardner. The excitement of seeing these whales more than made up for the hardships endured. The wind picked up and the Baranof range disappeared into the mist as worried voices filter through on marine radio. While we pay such close attention to the whales, they acknowledge neither us nor the weather. The herring are rich and plentiful and while they are present nothing can divert the whales' attention. Over and over they dive, lunge and surface, performing the feeding ritual with great precision.

While most people favor seeing the lunge, I prefer the hypnotic rhythm of the flukes submerging one after another as a group of 15 to 20 whales prepare for a terminal dive. Months after being with the whales I can be walking along city streets and I see them surfacing through the city streets, into the traffic. At night when I close my eyes they are reflected on my retina and dive into my dreams.

My favorite memory is of being in a group of sleeping whales. It is one thing to watch their antics, their lunges and breeching, but to be among them when they are sleeping, swimming slowly in clockwise circles with slow rhythmic breathing is to experience a deep sense of calm.

One night we moored to a crabpot, the whales had disaffiliated and it was much too far and too late to return to the lodge. Dinner included previously hard boiled eggs dipped in the ocean for saltiness, a tortilla with beans, corn, capers and cheese. We didn't dare venture ashore. The threat of scavaging grizzlies was nothing compared to the presence of noseeums, eating us to the bone bite by tiny bite. My bed consisted of removing the food hamper from the drivers seat, stacking the gas containers on the aft pontoon - then wedging my body between the seat and steering wheel, legs up and over one side, my head on the other side, with my floater jacket pillow below. Bliss. More than once my final vision of the night - our 50-horse Honda infiltrated my dreams.

3:30 pm The sound of whales nearby awakens me from my sleep. Someone out there is breeching and blowing. We decide to say in our cozy sacks and not get up and follow them - a decision we later regret as the next three days are spent in futile chase.