blue whales and battle scars
fleeting moments of beauty off the gulf of maine
For the Fourth of July, my friend invited me to go whale watching with her family. Despite living on the east coast, I had never been before. I guess I didn’t think much of it, I mean they’re just whales.
I, like everyone else when they were a kid, wanted to be a marine biologist. Even though I am awful at science and worse at swimming. But growing up, the only careers I knew were doctor, lawyer, teacher, president, and of course, marine biologist. It’s like how you think quicksand is going to be this huge issue and suddenly you’re twenty and there are at least one million other things to worry about. On most days, I would prefer to be swallowed up by quicksand, as opposed to like, grief.
Anyway, it was a beautiful day. A little cloudy, but not raining, and just warm enough. At 3 pm, we lined up by the harbor and boarded the ship. I immediately regretted not taking the Dramamine, but toughed it out by spending the hour sailing to the sanctuary outside on the deck where I got whipped back and forth by the wind.
After about an hour and a half, we made it to the Stellwagen Bank Marine Sanctuary, a feeding ground for the whales and other marine life in the area. The naturalist on the loudspeaker informed us of the three main types of whales: humpbacks, fin whales, and blue whales. She said that today we would most likely be seeing humpbacks and fin whales, and that a blue whale sighting is very rare in these waters, considering that they are an endangered species and there aren’t enough krill to feed them here in the North Shore.
I was only half listening in my nauseous state, trying to regain my balance and whatnot, but she announced soon after that actually — there were reports of a blue whale sighting near us and there was a good chance we would be able to see one today. Murmurs of excitement rose from the deck, but I think some people, including me, weren’t all that convinced yet. Something about not wanting to get my hopes up.
It wasn’t much longer afterward that the naturalist returned to the speaker and declared that this mystical creature was, in fact, in our vicinity. Our 11 o’clock to be exact. My friend and I happened to be on this side of the ship and I squinted my eyes to try and get a better look.
And sure enough, there it was. Well, part of it. Blue whales are the largest animals in the world, and the largest ever recorded in history. They are about the length of three school buses, for reference. What we saw was maybe only 5% of its body. Still, it was magical.
Over the next hour and a half, we ran from one side of the ship to the other to catch just glimpses of this creature. The naturalist could not emphasize enough how rare this was — in her five years of working here, she had never seen one before. The last recorded blue whale sighting in this sanctuary was 23 years ago, I wasn’t even born yet.
When I wasn’t caught in the symbolism of it all, I did manage to see the blue whale several more times. I wasn’t always sure what part of its body I was looking at exactly, but I didn’t care. At one point, the whale did a small fluke before diving, and the naturalist got so excited over the loudspeaker. She could barely believe it herself, her joy was contagious and I was buzzing with it.
The ship had gone out further than its normal route, and we definitely stayed out there for longer than scheduled, but this particular blue whale kept showing up. I wish I caught a NatGeo quality photo of it, but you know, I was too busy being in touch with nature and living in the moment. (Here is someone else’s video from Boston25 if you’re interested).
At one point, after a particularly clear sighting, I said something along the lines of “I think I’m gonna cry,” and the woman next to me laughed a little. Not at me, but in a way that showed she related to what I said. Like, yeah, this is kinda special right? All of these strangers that I’ll likely never see again, forever bounded together by this rare moment. The value of this collective experience did not escape me.
What made the blue whale sightings so special was the knowledge that it was fleeting. (In fact, when you look up the definition of the word, the example used is “hoping to get a fleeting glimpse of a whale underwater”). It’s not something I get to witness everyday, or maybe ever will again. It’s the same reason why I think everything in life is so precious — people, places, and moments as small as eating a nectarine on a summer day or as large as experiencing the solar eclipse. Whether you’re alone, surrounded by strangers or your loved ones, you know at the end of the night, everything good comes to an end. Because of this, you worship it harder.
You hold these memories closer to your chest, coax your brain into memorizing every detail, turn it into art and write it down, do whatever it takes so it doesn’t leave you. Memorialize and personify and symbolize until it takes a completely new form. Until the memory is no longer.
Or maybe, this is just some sick and twisted thing I do because I never learned when to let go. Maybe other people hold on to their memories in a normal way and for a normal amount of time, maybe there aren’t defense wounds on their knuckles from clinging on too tight. Maybe other people aren’t as scared of change and being left behind, maybe they can walk into tomorrow with an open heart and into a room free of ghosts. Maybe they don’t have matching scars on their kneecaps from trying to carry more than they can handle.1
And yet, because there is always a yet, isn’t that so beautiful? Isn’t there something to be said about knowing it’s all going to end and still going through with it? Isn’t there something to be said about choosing love today and then waking up again to do the same tomorrow? Isn’t it better to feel pain than nothing at all?
True story. I have a leftover bruise on my right kneecap from falling up the stairs on the ship after trying to balance two hot chocolate cups.
i love whales so much this was beautiful