call me jonathan

i'm still feeling dizzy and seasick; this is twenty four hours after we went whale watching. note that i never get even remotely seasick while actually on a boat. but apparently the rocking feelings stays with you even after you come onto land. so while we sat there eating dinner (sushi of course), we both commented on the constant swaying and dizziness we were both feeling. a more romantic man might have made a crack about it being the feeling of love sickness; tragically, i'm only witty and romantic in retrospect. then i leaned into the mirror later that night to floss my teeth, and almost toppled over. even today i feel as if i'm still standing astride a small dinghy -- karate kid style. it's frightening to imagine what being on a real boat for more than three hours would do to me.

the problem with trying to depict the elemental forces of the ocean on-screen (be it a perfect storm, maelstrom, or otherwise) is that it's totally futile. special graphics, award winning wave algorithms, men being tossed overboard, closed in shots of panic and flailing... none of those scenes can bring justice to the feeling of a wave tearing into your boat. i tried to extrapolate the feeling of us gently gliding over three foot waves to what it must feel like to be in the middle of a storm. it's like pricking your finger to get an idea of how much running a sword through your body might feel like; similar in theory, but totally unrelated.

the ocean is just frightening; it frightens me more than fires or heights (if i really stop to think about it). i love swimming, surfing, boat rides, and marine animals but when you get a chance to really think about the seas/oceans, and get a chance to experience how vast and unpredictable it is, how can it not be the scariest thing in the world? the ocean is power.

this grand setup isn't intended to diminish the awesomeness of what we saw today but to reflect on the idea that the entire concept of whale watching is kind of hilarious. i mean, you go out on a boat "in search of whales." you hope to see the biggest animals on earth in the biggest environment on earth and you want to do all of this within three hours, otherwise you feel somewhat cheated out of your money (in this case, $25). the monterey bay is the "serengeti of the sea" and is one of the best places to go whale watching. yet, when you set off on that little 100-foot schooner (wrong word but i just like to use it), which previously seemed battleship-esque when docked, you realize just how difficult finding a whale could be.

about ninety-five percent of the time a whale watching boat leaves from monterey, they are successful in finding a whale. that seems kind of nuts to me. i couldn't reliably find you a rabbit or squirrel around my house; much less year-round. of course, seeing a whale actually do something besides send up a few puffs of steam is an entirely different story. if you think you'll see whales breaching, rising out of the awesome depths to take a good look at you, or come sidling up to make friendly with humans, you're terribly wrong. most of the time you'll be viewing from a safe distance away as a few whales swim along peacefully.

it's amazing mind you, but if the biologist wasn't telling you what was going on, and if you didn't have preconceived notions of what the other ninety-nine percent of the whale looked like, it would be about as exciting as watching the kettle boil over. so the math here is that 95% of the time, you're guaranteed to see 1% of a whale. not that i'm complaining mind you; nature does not dance to our beats and neither should it.

it's all still pretty astonishing. especially as you become accustomed to the whale's rhythms. when he's going to breathe, when he's going to blast, when he's going to take that one final gulp of air and disappear with the flick of his tail. i mean, i've been to sea world many times, i've been whale watching once already (in fifth grade), but nothing really makes you more excited than to see even a tiny bit of whale. the prospect of seeing one potentially jump out of the water is enough to keep you on pins and needles. and after straining your eyes, looking for any sign of exotic marine life, you are relieved to have some success, any success. i'd compare the high, and the experience, to seeing a bit of exposed nipple, but really, that would be juvenile and immature.

we saw three humpback whales, no blues, no dolphins or porpoise -- and most exciting of all, three orca. the humpbacks were exciting because they vindicated our experience. having no dolphins jump and play in our wake was sort of disappointing, but we've all seen dolphins before in one form or another. the three orca we saw as we were heading home (look for a big black fin cutting through the water like a knife), so it was a huge bonus and the cherry on top.

the hunting trio were in shallow waters and possibly honing in on a sea lion or two. if we had seen a killer whale actually kill something, i would have screamed for joy. instead, due to time contraints, we were forced to leave them after too brief moments. it's strange, in normal life, i childishly insist on calling killer whales "shamu," in the wild, they are nothing less than "orca." it's as if you can't compare the domesticated killer whale with the wild one, even in name -- like "bruce wayne" versus "batman."

never have i paid more to see less. i saw a few flashes of whale, a lot of sea lions, a gaggle of sea gulls, withstood high winds and cold, and am still stumbling around whenever i sit down. but it was so worth it. here are the pictures. don't laugh. animals were closer than they appear, my camera just sucks.