Whale watching off San Diego on July 4th:
It was a damp gray morning. The marina was quiet, still sleeping under a blanket of clouds hanging low above the placid bay. The tinkering of buoy bells in the distance, lolled by the roll of the morning swell, chimed the wake up call for the gulls and pelicans that began to circle in the misty morning air.
They stretched their wings over our heads as we sat huddled on the bow of the iron hulled trawler. Watching as they dove headlong into the platinum waters for a bite of breakfast, the saline smell of the ocean kept our own appetites at bay. Still half asleep and dreaming of Moby Dick and Whale Wars, the engines started to grumble and we slowly headed out to sea, leaving sleep and the San Diego skyline behind.
Motoring past the rocky shores of Point Loma, the palm encircled lighthouse blinked its sleepy eye. We quietly waved good-bye and set our sights on the open ocean. Howling winds whipped through our thin clothing and white spray exploded into the air as the hull of the boat, and our churning stomachs, rose and fell in the chop. Eyes wide with excitement, having peeled back their heavy covers and cast sleep aside, we scanned the undulating waters for the subtle puff of a whale spout, that geyser of marine morning breath we silently sought after. The ocean air grew thick with anticipation as we approached the limitless horizon.
Ahoy! In the distance! 2′ o’clock off the starboard bow!
The engines shifted into high gear as we altered course and sped off towards the target, cameras at the ready, focused as sharply as harpoons to shoot our prey.
…to be continued…
