Whale of a Tail

I don’t like exaggeraters. Or liars. And, as you know, I myself don’t like to do either. (see my problem with over telling the truth, post)

So, when I tell you my ‘whale’ story, take it for what you like. I’m not even real sure of it, but it still makes me hold my breath when I think of it.

While snorkeling the first time, this trip, another couple told us they saw a turtle resting near the edge of the reef, quite a ways out. So, for our first trip out (Peter’s very first ever) we had to go out about 150 yards, or so. (think football fields, here, girls – one field, 100 yards) I’m not totally sure, but even I felt a little uneasy, the further we got out.
But, sure enough. There, taking it easy, was a giant green sea turtle. (among many, many other cool things) I thought that was it. I’ve waited 20 years to see one up close and personal, in real life. I dove down, said hello, and enjoyed every second.

While out there, I heard a noise. It sounded like what one might think of as a whale. But, of course, I certainly wasn’t hearing a whale while snorkeling in Maui, now was I? (I have since heard other people say, that yes in fact, you certainly can – phew! I’m not totally crazy) A little bit later, I asked Peter if he ‘heard that?’ He said that he had hit his kick board with his flipper, that’s all he heard. I said, “No. It didn’t sound like a bonk, it sounded like whining, kind of like a whale. Hmmm. I must be hearing things.”

After another four or five minutes out there, something caught my eye, about 40 yards (maybe?) from us. A really big black and white ‘thing.’ Like the top of a fin/flipper. It was in and out of the water a few times. Being out that far, although it wasn’t rough, we were defiantly in swells. So, I would see it, then couldn’t then could, then couldn’t. Isn’t this sounding like a nice calm story?

In case you didn’t know this about me; I’m a panicker. I mean really. Like, “HOLY CRA*!!!!!” Kind of panicker. So I get to Peter as fast as I could.

(Please remember that I was a synchronized swimmer, and feel right at home in the water. I am a strong and confident swimmer. Also, please remember that Peter’s mom gave me all of his stuff from being a kid, and in it are his pass/fail cards from years of swimming lessons. I’m pretty sure not one, says ‘pass.’ In other words, swimming is not his strong point. But with the ability to rent Rx goggles, he has been MUCH better. Apparently being able to see makes a difference, who knew?)

At any rate, I go to Peter. Grab his leg. Pull on it as hard as I can. Then pull on his trunks like a crazy woman. I’m giving his arm the death grip, and shaking him. ‘Holy crap! A whale!! (huff, huff, huff – panic, panic, panic!!) Holy crap! Oh, my gosh! A whale! (I’m getting louder with each word.) Peter is trying furiously to see what I am. But remember, he can’t see ANYTHING without glasses, and his mask is now fogged, and we’re bouncing in and out of ocean swells.

“Right there. Look! Right there! Oh, my gosh! A WHALE!”

I now see a dark, shiny back of something REALLY big in the water. It appears and disappears a couple of times, then is gone. I’ve now seen the fin (?) and the back. (?) The water visibility is good for snorkeling at the reef, maybe 80 feet or so. But, as I look below, I can’t see that far into the distance, away from the reef. Above, fins and backs. Below, I can’t see as far as where I’m seeing on top. Peter couldn’t see it in either place. But then again, we were right on top of the turtle, and he couldn’t see that for quite a while either. Being out in the water and snorkeling takes some getting used to.

“We gotta get out of here. Now!” I say.

This is whale season right now, here in Maui. They come from Alaska to have their babies. It’s very exciting. Unless, of course, you’re the only people in the water, with like two people on shore, at 7:30 in the morning, and you have no idea what a whale would do if you were too close to it, and quite possibly, it’s baby.

Next thing I know, I’m half was to shore.

I look back to see Peter, still where I left him. Looking into the distance. I can hardly breathe. I am in total panic mode. “Oh-my-gosh-oh-my-gosh-oh-my-gosh…” We finally reunite, somewhere half way to where I left him.

All I can think of, is “Momma and baby in the water. Mother instincts can kill. Gotta go. Now!” I know that people say that these don’t attack, but I’ve seen discovery channel enough to know, that mothers do things they might not normally do if they feel threatened. And you know those “stupid tourists” who feed the bears at Yellowstone and are eaten to death? Yeah. I didn’t want that to be me.

I tried to calm myself a bit and stay out for a few more minutes. But in the end, I had to go in. Too nervous. I could hardly catch my breath.

“Thanks for leaving me out there.” Says Peter, once on dry land.

“Uh. Sorry. I was SO scared!” Then we had to discuss the noise I head earlier, and what not. Within 20 minutes or so, about ½ mile down the beach, there were whale watching boats. So, at least I knew I very possibly wasn’t totally insane. (well, not at least for this instance, anyway)

As Peter headed off to the bathroom, he turned around and said with a laugh, “I don’t want to hear about you seeing the Loch Ness or Big Foot while I’m gone, now.”

So there you have it.

The end.