Southward along the Brazilian coast
Some would say that in these remote waters, we are in the middle of nowhere. They might argue that we are all alone, the only beings riding the waves, the only people (or things) with any real purpose for miles and miles. And that may be true - for some. We are roughly 10 miles offshore of the remote coastline of Brazil, here for our second day of wildlife watching. Much the same as yesterday, the water is still roughly only 40 meters deep. The shallow waters are habitat for breeding and calving humpback whales.
We are on a general course of 208 degrees, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and yet, one by one, we pass gigantic cargo ships, packed with crude oil and stacked with cars. We see the blazing flares of one oil rig after another and it seems like a city at sea. Humans sure have a lot to do, and they always have a lot of stuff to move, and they seem to need it all done in a hurry. But today we (the guests, officers, crew and staff) get to slow down the pace. We get to brake for whales, and we get to zig and zag, seemingly lost on our course to the hustle and bustle of shipping and oil commerce. But we are merely searching for more whales.
This coastline is sandy and the water is surprisingly clear, and therefore not very productive. Even though, there are many signs of marine life. There are several local fishermen hauling in their shrimp nets, and there is an occasional bottlenose dolphin cavorting with the ships’ bow. This activity is of some interest to the masked and brown boobies - they know a shrimp boat from miles away so they will follow ALL ships for a little while, eternally hoping for a scrap now and then. They also pass by the National Geographic Endeavour, (but we do not offer scraps) along with some Manx shearwaters and a few storm petrels here and there. We also spot our first albatross of the trip – a yellow-nosed all the way from Tristan da Cunha.
And there are the whales. LOTS of whales. There are many female humpback whales with calves, and many male humpbacks trying to mate with the lone females. And there are young whales, yearlings, and teenagers. There are the big and the bigger, the breaching ones and the flipper slapping ones. They are rolling and leaping and groaning and fluking and it is a grand old time out on deck. We slow down. We watch, and we wait. But that’s my point folks, and here is something I’d like you to try. Once a month, more if you can, I would propose that you slow it down for just one day. Read a book. Turn off the television and the computers and turn off the phone. Pick a day and just “whale watch.” Whatever that means to you. Go for a walk in the woods, a swim in the ocean, go see some old friends and strike up a friendly conversation. Or just listen. Try to stop and smell the roses.
As Roger Payne says in his book Among Whales, “the most important thing we must learn as a species is…how inconceivably fleeting the human species and its ephemeral lifetime is. Ours is the briefest of candles. We need to appreciate how short our species’ life has been so far, how untried we are, how balanced on a knife edge and perilously close to the yawning precipice of failure….”
If we could recognize our limitations, learn to staunch our arrogance, and realize that we are not the master of ceremonies, not the master of nature, but one species among millions of other beguiling species…then I think we could make it.…If we can learn to stop upstaging the main act (which is nature) and start to use human ingenuity to keep the earth alive rather than just to make our lives easier – then the show can go on, the earth can recover, the great beasts can endure, and we will not have to face the prospect of dying a great loneliness of spirit.
And with that, we continue our search.
Some would say that in these remote waters, we are in the middle of nowhere. They might argue that we are all alone, the only beings riding the waves, the only people (or things) with any real purpose for miles and miles. And that may be true - for some. We are roughly 10 miles offshore of the remote coastline of Brazil, here for our second day of wildlife watching. Much the same as yesterday, the water is still roughly only 40 meters deep. The shallow waters are habitat for breeding and calving humpback whales.
We are on a general course of 208 degrees, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and yet, one by one, we pass gigantic cargo ships, packed with crude oil and stacked with cars. We see the blazing flares of one oil rig after another and it seems like a city at sea. Humans sure have a lot to do, and they always have a lot of stuff to move, and they seem to need it all done in a hurry. But today we (the guests, officers, crew and staff) get to slow down the pace. We get to brake for whales, and we get to zig and zag, seemingly lost on our course to the hustle and bustle of shipping and oil commerce. But we are merely searching for more whales.
This coastline is sandy and the water is surprisingly clear, and therefore not very productive. Even though, there are many signs of marine life. There are several local fishermen hauling in their shrimp nets, and there is an occasional bottlenose dolphin cavorting with the ships’ bow. This activity is of some interest to the masked and brown boobies - they know a shrimp boat from miles away so they will follow ALL ships for a little while, eternally hoping for a scrap now and then. They also pass by the National Geographic Endeavour, (but we do not offer scraps) along with some Manx shearwaters and a few storm petrels here and there. We also spot our first albatross of the trip – a yellow-nosed all the way from Tristan da Cunha.
And there are the whales. LOTS of whales. There are many female humpback whales with calves, and many male humpbacks trying to mate with the lone females. And there are young whales, yearlings, and teenagers. There are the big and the bigger, the breaching ones and the flipper slapping ones. They are rolling and leaping and groaning and fluking and it is a grand old time out on deck. We slow down. We watch, and we wait. But that’s my point folks, and here is something I’d like you to try. Once a month, more if you can, I would propose that you slow it down for just one day. Read a book. Turn off the television and the computers and turn off the phone. Pick a day and just “whale watch.” Whatever that means to you. Go for a walk in the woods, a swim in the ocean, go see some old friends and strike up a friendly conversation. Or just listen. Try to stop and smell the roses.
As Roger Payne says in his book Among Whales, “the most important thing we must learn as a species is…how inconceivably fleeting the human species and its ephemeral lifetime is. Ours is the briefest of candles. We need to appreciate how short our species’ life has been so far, how untried we are, how balanced on a knife edge and perilously close to the yawning precipice of failure….”
If we could recognize our limitations, learn to staunch our arrogance, and realize that we are not the master of ceremonies, not the master of nature, but one species among millions of other beguiling species…then I think we could make it.…If we can learn to stop upstaging the main act (which is nature) and start to use human ingenuity to keep the earth alive rather than just to make our lives easier – then the show can go on, the earth can recover, the great beasts can endure, and we will not have to face the prospect of dying a great loneliness of spirit.
And with that, we continue our search.
