Thursday as I was driving to work, I was so distracted thinking of the meeting filled day ahead that I almost didn’t notice that the ocean was calm and the light breeze was barely stirring up a wind chop. A perfect day to spot a whale spout. This is the time of year that a straggler or two hang out in the bull kelp south of town. I generally commute 50 miles round trip, but a gray whale’s commute is endless, back and forth from Baja to the arctic, traveling south in the fall and north in the spring. Sometimes I envy our local slackers, wishing I had the freedom to take a summer off too.
At one point in time I was so used to spotting them that I could spot a spout from a moving vehicle. But that skill seemed to trickle away after I returned to the year-round workforce years ago. I rarely even stop at the overlooks anymore, but I always keep an eye on the tourists pulled over to snap vacation pictures. I hope someone has clued them in that a special treat may be in store for them or that they are naturally observant so they have the good fortune to observe a whale in the wild.
Then it happened, just as I whizzed by a young girl staring out to sea with her family leaped joyfully into the air pointing emphatically and shouting for her family to look. It was probably just its spout, but if she was really lucky she saw it roll and the graceful arch of its tail slipping back under the water.
I never saw the whale. She never noticed the passing car. But for one split second we were joined together by the majesty, the miracle of one of the Pacific’s most wonderful creatures. Experiencing her joy vicariously propelled me through my workday and I hope the magic of seeing a whale fuels a lifetime of wonder and discovery for her.
