As the whale breached the breadth and length of him seemed to go on. And on. And on. Maybe it was because time seemed to slow. Like a film, frame by frame, his progress was
dimly registered as he arced heart-poundingly close. His gnarled and mottled back floated by my peripheral vision as my body seemed arrested in a kind of rigor mortis of adrenaline. One second, the length of a century, ticked into the next. It never seemed to be over. The arch of his back seemed unending. I dimly wondered if I had control of my physical faculties as fear pounded through me. Then it was over. He was in. But it wasn't over. I was afraid he was going to come up under us. We waited. It was such a helpless feeling. I think I was holding my breath. Then he breached again 200 meters away. He was headed out to sea. I let go then.
Later we managed to exchange impressions. My friend thought 30 to 50 meters of length. I don't know. All I know is that my heart and body were a mess for hours and the kayak back into the bay was a most welcome physical release. Some stories just need to be told. Thanks for being here with me.
Later we managed to exchange impressions. My friend thought 30 to 50 meters of length. I don't know. All I know is that my heart and body were a mess for hours and the kayak back into the bay was a most welcome physical release. Some stories just need to be told. Thanks for being here with me.