In the lap of Alaskan nature
Adventure Destinations | Ricky | August 15, 2010 at 1:00 am
For miles across the icy expanse, not a sound is to be heard. Silence might be golden, and this is a potential gold mine awaiting the crazy gold rush. But there is none to be seen, and all I have for company are the sounds of Orcas echoing across the waters and through the rolling fog. The chill penetrates my very soul and is a strange, calming influence and it keeps the sun from peeking out from its quarters beyond the clouds. Often I have heard the saying “in nature’s lap” but this I believe is it even without having ever witnessed these scenes before. Playfully, I exhale a burst of hot air and watch as it turns to little wisps on the wind, drifting aimlessly away from me just as the baby seal is, completely unperturbed by my presence in its home.
The strip of land in southeastern Alaska is known to people as the Inside Passage and it is composed of a collection of islands and other natural wonders among which are virgin coves and inlets, gushing rivers and fractured yet beautiful coastlines but getting here is no piece of cake. There are no such things as roads here, making the approach limited to two options; you can float, like my friend the baby seal, or soar like the eagle soaring overhead and sizing up its lunch swimming in the river. There is always the option of kayaking with tour leaders, but if you are as individualistic as me, you will look to get away into the uncharted wilderness of the Inside Passage as soon as you can, which brings me back to the reality of a clear and present danger.
The fortress of tranquility I had built up around me was shattered when the young seal burst forth from the waters and lunged for me, all in good spirits of course for I posed him more harm than him to me. Normally, I would take in the moment and not disturb the perfection of it but this is not one of those times. I had to urge my little furry friend to skedaddle somehow and so I splashed the water with some gusto, hoping to scare him off by this sudden burst of fury. But all of this serves only to confuse the young pup even more and he’s a deer in the headless, frozen and undeterred in the slightest. He continues on his approach and I hate to use the blade of my oar to scare him off what I hope is for good and he gives me an almost hurtful backward glance as he disappears into the depths of the water, a trail of bubbles I didn’t know whether I’d see again. And then it begins, the pitter-patter of panicked fishes running into the sides of my boat. They are all fleeing from a predator that would have treated the seal like a happy meal.
The dorsal fin surfaced, sharp and ominous, and cut a scythe in the waters as it made a beeline for me. I did not need to read the script to know that I was at the centre of a game of tag, and I was going up against a group of nature’s finest hunters. Soon, I am surrounded by a herd of the apex predators as I realize the odds I am stacked up against. Before I can even begin to do the numbers, the first of the Orca’s crosses my bow in some anger as it made a charge for the fish frozen in fear in midair and I am at the heart of a great dance that helps keep the balance of this ecosystem intact. The Salmon are being herded up and made easy prey as a rock wall approximately twenty yards to port side looms large as the end of the line for the sorry school of fish. As if telepathically the pod of Orca’s realize they have to form a semi-circle to close off the scared Salmon.
This is like wolves pitted against lambs and I have a ringside seat to cover everything. The fish do as any average human being might and work themselves into a fearful frenzy, moving hither thither and knocking themselves out against the rock façade not far off. They are doing all the legwork for the Orca’s that lie in wait, their fins like carving knifes chopping and churning through the waters. Of all the places in the entire world that I could have chosen to be at this very moment, I have walked straight into the OK Corral of Alaska, and one of the two sets of cowboys had brought toothpicks to a swordfight. It was an unequal battle, and it was raging all around me as I watched on.
Orca’s are carnivores, but I have not heard of them being aggressive towards humans, which gives me some solace. In fact, there has been no recorded attack on a human or a boat occupying humans in known existence and while they can be killers to the core, they are also oddly friendly and curious when it comes to humans, which serves only to soften somehow their animalistic displays of carnage. Regardless, I am witnessing first-hand what a pod of them are capable of and I sit motionless hoping that this too, shall pass. Bar the splashing and frantic movement, this should all be over soon enough and I can breathe again. The clicks and sounds ping off the fiberglass body of my boat, and the black dorsal fins are like underwater torpedos zeroing in on the kill. It is almost beautiful if it weren’t for the silent genocide and it is clockwork perfection, every last move planned and executed with no excess of movement from the Orca’s. This is second nature to them.
The whales are well aware of my intrusion and pass silently by but take care not to collide with me at all. I am thankful for their acceptance but then realize that I too am an instrument of their destruction. They are using the solid fiberglass body of my boat as if it were a secondary rock façade, shepherding fish against it and cornering them for just enough time to end this chase once and for all. This is the sort of stuff you’d be hard pressed to find on National Geographic (although you might) and without even realizing it, I am soaked through and through with a small amount of scales thrown in as a reminder that I shouldn’t push my luck. It is the better part of an hour before the buffet is over and the temp of it all begins to grind to a halt. I begin to wonder where a new set of whales have emerged from, but then realize these are not whales but Porpoises instead, now having their fill of the leftovers.
It is the final touch in an artistic hunt when I see a line of Orca’s create a wave with their tails that splashes against the walls, freeing up any stray salmon cowering in fear and the Porpoises swoop in for the kill along with a few whales, not needing a second invitation to finish the job. Feeding frenzy over, lethargy begins to set in as the black figures float along the surface and around my boat. The sunlight is dancing on their ebony bodies and I can see nothing of the snowy white that envelops part of their bodies. The male Killer Whale can grow to a weight of nine tons, sometimes more, and their teeth are like rows of razor blades capable of slicing a Great White Shark to shreds in no time. And yet here I am, wafting along with them in perfect synchronicity. There is nothing to suggest their wanton aggression or to say that I am a threat, for if I were I’d have wiped out just as easily as the Salmon. I am their guest, tolerated but within limit.
Their mute stare that catches my eye for a few seconds tells me they are trying to communicate in their own simplistic way, but their eyes, small black dots set against their face, dart away just as soon as that thought of mine. I feel humbled and almost obeisant, painfully aware that I must not outstay my welcome lest I meet a grizzly end. One stroke at a time, I move away slowly and steadily, careful not to disturb the resting Whales and once a safe distance away, I move just that bit faster, leaving a froth of water in my wake. I realize my heart is racing, my body knowing it was in a moment of serious danger but in my mind I know I was in none so long as the male of the pod deemed it so.
I was caught up in a moment I might never witness again, and I am all the richer for it. Even as my paddling picks up speed and my arms roar in pain, all that previously mattered now pales into insignificance as I feel more alive than at any other point in my life. The fog rolls along and I stop paddling and take in the fact that I am a speck in the cosmic scheme of things. In the distance, eagles soar as I decide turn home, and I am happy (to say the least) that I chose not to go the group tourist way. No amount of memorabilia and souvenirs can match the memories of a lifetime.
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Hiya!!! experience with the orca and the dolphins sounds both fun and scary to me…i bet u have a courage bone to go kayaking all the way alone..quite an adventure…ehhh???
.-= robbin´s last blog ..Paris =-.