A Seaward Voyage to the Whales, by Tucker Hirsch

It started out as a fairly typical Camp Sea Lab trip.  Call of the Sea had partnered with this non-profit twice before, and we already knew the game plan.  We would sail the good ship Seaward out the Gate, buzz the Farallones, and anchor in Drake’s Bay; then  we’d turn southward and, five days later, end the trip in Santa Cruz.  Along the way, the 12 teenage students would help us navigate, set and strike the sails, be their own chefs and captains, and experiment with hands-on marine biology.  Betsy, their teacher-naturalist, and I had planned a week of plankton tows and microscope viewings, squid dissections and calamari tasting, whale watching and bird identification.

These were potential and budding marine biologists; excuse the pun, but the world was their oyster.  We would show them the unique ecosystems of the San Francisco Bay, Point Reyes National Seashore, and the Gulf of the Farallones National Marine Sanctuary.  This was a standard voyage plan for a trip heading south, but these students were not standard – Camp Sea Lab emphasized marine biology.  I felt that the trip would not be complete without also sailing through Monterey Bay and crossing the Monterey Canyon.  This distinct ocean floor feature starts inland of the coast as a river east of Moss Landing and extends straight out into the ocean, reaching a depth of over a mile between the points of Santa Cruz and Monterey.  Here is an upwelling of nutrient-rich, cold, deep-ocean water, greatly magnified by the trench that has been likened to an underwater Grand Canyon.

Just a month ago, the crew and I had disembarked a similar group of students in Santa Cruz and then transited to Monterey.  In that transit, sans students, we saw humpback whales, minke whales, and a few hundred Risso’s Dolphins.  It was the largest sighting of the whole trip.  I didn’t want this group of students to miss a similar experience.  I approached the Captain and requested a voyage plan that would cross Monterey Bay with the hope of seeing more charismatic megafauna in that likely spot.  The Captain gave it the OK, and together we worked it into the voyage plan.

It proved to be typical August weather – glassy water, still air, and plenty of sunshine.  Seasickness was only a minor issue, jellies were abundant, and we saw the humpback whales, tufted puffins, and plankton characteristic of the Farallon Islands.  Marine biology was at its height, but sailing, unfortunately, was not.

On our last full day, we set out to cross Monterey Bay from Santa Cruz, still under motor power for want of wind.  I had my fingers crossed that it would be worth using more diesel to push ourselves even farther south under our new voyage plan.  Just moments after Seaward entered Monterey Bay, one of the students cried “WHALE!” and all activity aboard came to a stand-still.  The students identified the dorsal fin, fluke, and blow of a Humpback Whale, and just as we returned to our watches, the next whale was spotted.  And the next, and then the next.  We turned off the motor and drifted while we ate lunch.  Everywhere we looked we either saw a fin, a blow, or the dorsal side of a diving whale or dolphin.

When I thought we were saturated with whales and the wind was trying to pick up, a new whale entered our sights.  It was larger, grayer, and lacked the small dorsal of the Humpbacks.  I identified it as a Gray Whale and the crew, Betsy, and students all agreed.  But… it was big.  Really big.  I began to doubt my identification when Captain Emerson pulled me aside:  rumor had it that there was a Blue Whale in the area.  There aren’t that many Blue Whales in this world, and neither one of us had ever seen one before.  I was skeptical, but as there were two of these large whales in our vicinity and  closer now, I pulled out the marine mammal guide again.  This time I could see it:  the slightly blue tint, the distinct but small dorsal, and the long, slow glide of the whale’s back as it surfaced for air.  We were among two of the largest living organisms on the planet.  I was ecstatic.

My excitement spread to the teenagers as we ate lunch – in awe of the two behemoths for over an hour as they seemed to circle around us.  As they glided away from us and we started to wash the lunch dishes, the Captain called for hands to set the mains’l.  We had enough wind to sail to Monterey.

Two days later, after our closing circle in Santa Cruz, almost every one of the kids wrote on their evaluations that their most memorable experience of the five days was “seeing TWO Blue Whales!”  I thought of Ken, our Executive Director, saying "We go there" as Call of the Sea’s mantra.  It seems that while the wind and weather may not always be dependable for a sailing voyage, the sea life never fails and our oceans continue to amaze greenhorns and old salts alike.