Recently, a friend forwarded a story to me about the 2005 rescue of a Humpback whale. The whale was spotted off the northern California coast, hopelessly tangled in crab trap lines that had begun to cut into her flesh. The divers who rescued her talked about how the 50-ton animal made eye contact and closely watched them as they were cutting the ropes that bound her. When she was finally free, the divers were amazed at the affectionate way she behaved, circling and nuzzling them gently. They said she appeared to be happy and grateful to them. Hoping this story was true, I consulted one of the urban legend websites and was pleased to find it verified. I smiled when I read the researcher’s caveat, “The interspecies pathos may have been exaggerated.” I don’t think so.
In the summer of 2001, I received a glossy brochure from a travel company that offered a tour to see the Gray whales in their calving grounds off the coast of Baja California. I was hooked—but the cost was way out of our price range. Undeterred, I started to research and eventually found a small Mexican company that offered affordable tours near San Ignacio, a dot on the Mexican map. I e-mailed, they responded with answers to my questions and soon confirmed a reservation for us. My plan was to fly to San Diego and cross the border on foot. All I had left to do was figure out how to get the last 500 miles or so to San Ignacio. I e-mailed Ernesto, my new best friend in Mexico, for advice. “No problem,” he assured me. “My cousin lives in Tijuana. He will meet you at the border and drive you to the bus station.” Great! I happily shared the news of our next adventure with my husband. He looked at me doubtfully and said, “Uh, huh. Do you know anyone who has ever done this?” “No,” I admitted, “but where is your spirit of adventure?” Clearly, I needed reinforcements. I called my world-traveling nephew in San Francisco and asked if he wanted to come along. “Sure!” was his immediate reply. Then I asked my niece and she also agreed. (She gets car sick going around the block so I kind of skipped over the part about the 500 mile bus ride.) With my group formed, my husband agreed to the plan. On February 5, 2002 we rendezvoused in San Diego. Since we were afoot, we had each limited ourselves to what we could fit into a backpack. As promised, Ernesto’s cousin was waiting for us on the Mexican side of the border and delivered us to the bus station.
My niece, Kim was only a pale shade of green when we arrived in San Ignacio early the next morning. There we were met by our driver and loaded into a van for another 2-1/2 hour brain-rattling ride across the desert to the lagoon.
We could hear the whales blowing so we dropped our packs and quickly scrambled onto pangas or small boats for our first encounter with them. We motored into the lagoon, then the guide killed the engine and we drifted. Almost immediately we were surrounded by the gentle giants. Curious and unafraid, they swam beside and beneath the panga and spy-hopped beside us for a better look. I made eye contact with one and we surveyed each other quietly for a few minutes before she disappeared. To my surprise, she was soon back but this time she wasn’t alone. She pushed her calf to the surface and nudged him toward the panga as is saying, “See my baby? Isn’t he beautiful?” When he was close enough, I reached out and stroked his oddly rough skin while she stood by approvingly. It wasn’t the first time I’d experienced inter-species communication but it was definitely one of the most memorable encounters of my life. “Exaggerated inter-species pathos?” I don't think so.