One week prior to the tour, my inner child was full of tension. Will the weather conditions allow the tour? I anxiously observed the forecast. It was supposed to rain all day. Would the event really take place?
On the morning of the tour, I woke up accompanied by the squawking of the sea gulls, and a ray of the sun entered shyly into my room. I saw a piece of blue sky through the gap of the curtains. I sighed deeply and smiled. All was well. I would be able to do the trip. I got ready and walked to the hotel in downtown Vancouver where the bus driver picked me up to bring me to the landing place of the boat in Richmond.
One hour later, I sat at the back of the boat, thickly packed in all the clothes I had brought with me to protect myself from the chilly airstream while the sun was warming my face. The roaring sound of the engines hurt in my ears and made it impossible to hear anything else, while the boat cut through the mirror-like surface of the Pacific that was unusually calm that day. There was nearly no wave, no movement.
The prediction was to see a pod of killer whales during the tour, and suddenly they were there. The boat stopped. Stillness surrounded us. The people in the boat ran to the side where the whales had appeared, hid their eyes behind their cameras and tried to make the perfect photo to hang on to it forever. I did the same.
After three attempts, I stopped this impossible venture, and observed how the beauty of the moment revealed itself:
Two pods of whales had a cheerful encounter in the sea. Their beautiful black and white colors showed up when they did spy hopping and put their head out of the water. One whale even jumped out of it once. They seemed to be playing with each other, just like two families having an afternoon full of games, and I could feel a tingling joy in the air. I had never seen whales in the wildlife before, and tears of gratitude entered into my eyes as I observed their playfulness. We accompanied them for a while until the engines of the boat roared up again, and the boat took up speed. It seemed that we would also be able to watch some humpback whales that day.
The boat hunted through the sea in zig-zag patterns, until somebody screamed out, "There they are." There, they were: two adult humpback whales, gliding through the water in their rhythm that was like a graceful dance. Their tail fins showed up for a second, then they descended into the deepness of the Pacific. Some minutes later, they emerged again and repeated their elegant movements. The boats with the whale-watchers followed them cautiously, anxious to be close to the spot of their next appearance. The two whales offered an image of harmony and synchronicity, transmitting grace, peace and perfection.
The guide said, "It is a miracle to see two types of whales on the same day." For me, this day was a miracle, the two encounters with the whales a wonderful gift from the universe. I don't have any photos, but the wonderful sensations that day has given me will stay forever in my heart.
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