Nick Donovan
The sound of beating drums drifts over the water. Soldiers dressed in crimson-red tunics, one bearing a large flag, dash up the hillside amid shouts and war cries. Rising Tide’s The New Founde Lande – Trinity Pageant is in progress. This re-enactment of a very early and tumultuous time in Newfoundland’s history creates a very appropriate backdrop as we paddle out of historic Trinity Harbour toward Fort Point.
I could have ordered no better day for our tour. There is not even the slightest trace of a breeze, and the whole of Trinity Bight water is a giant mirror. Although a gentle tide is running out the harbour, my five guests are paddling confidently. An air of excitement surrounds them, and well it might. Earlier, at lunch in the Dock Marina Restaurant, Art Andrews, who had just returned to dock from a tour in the beautiful Atlantic Adventurer, had told us of a family of Humpback whales just outside the entrance to the harbour.
We stay close to the shoreline paddling in the tidal zone. The water is crystal clear and you can easily see bottom. Beds of various sea kelp sway to the tune of the running tide. Sea urchins and starfish hug the sea floor, and on the surface, an occasional dazed capelin skitters across the surface. The pungent aroma of salt water and freshly laid capelin eggs as they incubate on the sandy beach is testimony to an ecosystem that speaks of hope for the future. As we pass the lighthouse on Fort Point, several people walking the trail stop and view our advance. A little boy in a bright red shirt is sitting on one of the old cannons eagerly waving both arms in the air. I reflect on the soldier in the red tunic who centuries earlier had charged the hill with the Union Jack. What of his fate? I wonder. My reverie is short lived as I am brought suddenly into the present by the unmistakable sound of a surfacing whale.
He is just off Skerwink Head, perhaps less than a kilometre off shore. The white underside of his tail slipping into the water as he sounds leaves no doubt that this is a Humpback. Jim, the only out-of-province member of our party, has come from Fredericton. He told me earlier that he has dreamt of this moment all his life. His excitement is contagious and quickly envelops the rest of the group.
There are three Humpbacks in this pod – the bull, the cow and her young calf. By strategically circling, surfacing and sounding, the whales create an intricate system of air bubbles that acts much like a trap. The smaller fish will not swim through this barrier; and when the school is concentrated enough, the whale will rush in with gaping jaws scooping up hundreds of pounds in a single lunge.
As the distance between us and these leviathans of the sea grows shorter, I sense a certain hesitation on the part of my guests. I easily relate to how small and humble my guests feel right now in their bright red and yellow kayaks with jackets to match. I can only wonder how we must appear to these magnificent creatures as they go about their business of feeding.
Just 10 metres in front of us, one of the whales, as if to check us out, gently breaks the surface, and like a giant bellows, sending a water spout high into the air as he blows. Jane, another guest in our group shrieks, “OH, MY GOD!” Someone else is heard to cry, “I just can’t believe how big they are!” Every time a whale breaks the surface, there are “OOHS” and “AAHS.” Our shouts and screams match the acting soldiers doing their re-enactment in the inner harbour. Everyone is frantically scrambling to take pictures. It is time to contain some of the excitement. I blow my whistle, the signal to rally around the guide. I repeat the simple drills such as, tap lightly on the hull of your boat to let the whales know where you are at all times, keep your centre of gravity as you snap a picture, and stay together as a group. It is wise to remember that we are in whale territory right now, and they are certainly deserving of our respect.
All around us there is a frenzy of activity. The giants of Trinity Bay have come to play today, and we are the lucky spectators. As we gaze down into the depths beneath, whales are swimming just a few feet below the bottoms of our kayaks, their enormous length seeming to take forever to pass. Every time the whales break the surface, often only a few paddle lengths from us, they send jets of mist and spray into the air. Jim is so close, at one point, that he gets an unwanted shower. The fragrance is not “Head and Shoulders,” but Jim doesn’t mind a bit. This is everything he wanted, and then some.
The sound of these creatures as they talk to each other has an effect that surpasses my powers of description – sounds that are both soothing and haunting. Regretfully, like most splendors of nature, this one ends as quickly as it begins. However, as if to present us with a grand finale, the large bull catapults completely out of the water. He does a little dance standing on his tail until finally falling back, slapping his massive flukes, and giant tail sending a fountain of spray and water twenty feet into the air. Jim has now witnessed a breaching whale – not too bad for your first kayaking experience! This spectacular breach must have been his “goodbye song” for the magnificent creatures do not surface again.
In the early evening, we head for shore – collectively awestruck. Timing is everything in this world, for as we approach the beach, the Trinity Pageant is coming to a close. The troupe is ending its performance with their very touching Ode to Newfoundland, putting the cap on what has been another large day!
Reprinted from Ebb & Flow, Fall 2003, the newsletter of Kayak Newfoundland and Labrador. Photo courtesy of Newfoundland and Labrador Tourism.