Isabela & Fernandina Island
It was seven thirty in the morning and I already knew what my writing would be about - whales! There is little we can say that would fully express how we feel when a massive, fifty foot animal pops right up next to you. “Wow,” is among many of the expressions you can think of at that moment, but it seems that our language has not developed yet any superlative that could be up to the occasion. This morning I tried really hard to find one but I did not succeed, so I then decided to stay quiet and contemplate the immense log-appearance of a Sperm whale showing its impressive body size.
At the same time, part of my body, trained after many years of incredible encounters, started to work instinctively. There were my hands and fingers which started to click and focus the lens of my camera, not even waiting for my brain to send the signals (well, my brain obviously did) but almost it felt as if my hands had a mind on their own, knowing that there would not be another chance for what I was seeing. In fraction of a second, I looked around and the ocean looked bluer, the clouds froze in the sky and the wind stopped its usual strength. The sound travelled faster and it filled my ears with the gentle echo of the whale blow; it was music to my ears, never described in any musical score. Within seconds the giant gentle was gone; by curving its backbone and with simple powerful tail strokes it would reach depths that I could only dream mankind would ever reach.
With the whale gone to the deep sea, everything came back to normal; but there was something that did not change…the ocean was still bluer than usual and the sky looked somewhat different. All the facts told us that the whale was gone for a while, but the inner hope that we all carry inside made us believe that we will see it again. Once we accepted the truth, we continued our navigation on a much nicer, bluer ocean; surrounded by clouds that every once in a while adopted the shape of our gentle whale…
It was seven thirty in the morning and I already knew what my writing would be about - whales! There is little we can say that would fully express how we feel when a massive, fifty foot animal pops right up next to you. “Wow,” is among many of the expressions you can think of at that moment, but it seems that our language has not developed yet any superlative that could be up to the occasion. This morning I tried really hard to find one but I did not succeed, so I then decided to stay quiet and contemplate the immense log-appearance of a Sperm whale showing its impressive body size.
At the same time, part of my body, trained after many years of incredible encounters, started to work instinctively. There were my hands and fingers which started to click and focus the lens of my camera, not even waiting for my brain to send the signals (well, my brain obviously did) but almost it felt as if my hands had a mind on their own, knowing that there would not be another chance for what I was seeing. In fraction of a second, I looked around and the ocean looked bluer, the clouds froze in the sky and the wind stopped its usual strength. The sound travelled faster and it filled my ears with the gentle echo of the whale blow; it was music to my ears, never described in any musical score. Within seconds the giant gentle was gone; by curving its backbone and with simple powerful tail strokes it would reach depths that I could only dream mankind would ever reach.
With the whale gone to the deep sea, everything came back to normal; but there was something that did not change…the ocean was still bluer than usual and the sky looked somewhat different. All the facts told us that the whale was gone for a while, but the inner hope that we all carry inside made us believe that we will see it again. Once we accepted the truth, we continued our navigation on a much nicer, bluer ocean; surrounded by clouds that every once in a while adopted the shape of our gentle whale…
