Sunset on the west side of San Juan Island is usually pretty magical. From any number of vantage points, it's possible to view the Olympic mountains to the south and Victoria, British Columbia across Haro Strait to the west. As the sun sets over Vancouver island, the lights of Victoria sparkle like jewels. The clouds on the horizon play with the light of the setting sun, changing colors and sometimes streaming beams of sunlight onto the water. At times the water is choppy like meringue on a lemon pie, other times it's as smooth as glass. Like it was the other night.
My second annual first whale sighting of the summer started as a trip to the west side to view the setting sun. As we pulled into the gravel parking strip at Westside Preserve I caught sight of two fins made larger by being framed between the large rocks at the head of the trail and the horizon. Excitedly we exited the car. Like a child I made my way down the short winding trail to nature's viewing area, large flat rocks that make perfect perches for whale watching.
Last June I saw the whales on the eve of my birthday. It was morning and they put on a show by repeatedly breaching and spyhopping. We were at Lime Kiln State Park that day. The weather had just cleared, so there was a large crowd down by the light house and over at the lookout. In addition to the crowd on the shore, there was a large number of whale watch boats out in Haro Strait that day. It was very exciting to see the orcas for the first time since my move to the Island.
This year's first sighting was very different. It was evening and they'd come to the cove to feed. It was ebb tide, so the salmon were plentiful as they paused on their way north to their spawning grounds. As we sat down on one of the large flat rocks overlooking the bay, first two, then four, then more orcas appeared, stitching their way through the water like needles sewing a watery quilt. This time there was no breaching or spyhopping. Just surfacing to make the sound their blow holes make when they breathe, like a slow exhalation of the letter f.
Then we saw the calves, swimming with their mothers. Tiny from our vantage point, yet enormous up close I'm sure. Sometimes in sync with mom, sometimes out, they made their way south toward the cove. There were others around us perched on the rocks, some with cameras and binoculars. Most of them were quiet. There was one cell phone user, oddly out of place. When the cell phone was closed, the place settled down to the quiet sanctuary it is meant to be. The humans sitting on the rocks, watching. The orcas doing what they do naturally when left undisturbed.
This was a very different experience from Lime Kiln last summer. Nicer, quieter, more peaceful. Reverent even. Except for the sound of the whales exhaling, there was very little else. Time felt suspended, as though we on the shore had been stopped, frozen like mannequins so the large gentle creatures could pass in peace. I was happy to oblige. Given the almost constant human intrusion into their habitat, it was nice to see these majestic animals have the place almost to themselves. For sometimes I think we forget they are animals, not performers brought here for our entertainment. For over an hour we sat and watched, mesmerized by the slow progression of fins moving from north to south.
After most of the orcas had passed, a freighter just having entered the strait appeared in the distance. Silent at first, then the sound of it's engines gradually increasing as it drew near. Like the street sweeper that announces the end of a parade, the freighter headed north in front of us, signaling it was time to go home. Lingering long enough to listen to the sound of the engines, a slow and steady pulse, as the freighter passed by, finally we made our retreat. Up the gravel path to the car. A motorcycle speeding by broke the spell of the evening and snapped me back out of my reverie.
I turned to look down the hill and noticed a group of teenagers who'd joined the rest of us late in the evening, six or eight of them, all sitting in a row on one of the larger boulders, silhouetted against the dimly lit sky, quietly chatting and enjoying the view. Time to leave the place to them and their chaperone. Changing of the guard for the night. Then it was into the car and onto the road for the drive back into town. A beautiful evening. It was nice while it lasted, just us, the sunset, and the whales.
© M.E. Rollins
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