Big Love

Gallery

In Deep With the Whales

Getting up close and personal with humpback whales off the coast of the Dominican Republic.

» LAUNCH PHOTO GALLERY

The Rorqual may be home base, but most of our time is spent on one of the two 20-foot boats -- the crew calls them "tenders" -- that take us out in search of whales. The passengers, ranging from a teenager to a few folks in their 50s, are divided into two groups of 12, one per tender, and we're out on the water a lot: three to four hours in the morning, starting around 8 a.m., then a lunch break and back out again for the afternoon. Return, sleep, repeat.

Long days on the water offer plenty of time to get to know the other passengers, who represent a broad spectrum of philosophies when it comes to being in the water with whales. Hoi Leung, a crew member who piloted one of the tenders today, tells me that the group on his boat included the more spiritual members of the expedition. While my team lugged basic snorkel and camera gear onboard, the guests on Hoi's tender also packed four crystal "singing" bowls and wands, which were passed around and played during the outing to aid with meditation and help attract the whales.

"We had all four of them going at once," he says, his tone betraying more than a hint of sarcasm.

I ask him whether the bowls did, in fact, attract any whales.

Hoi raises his eyebrow and shrugs. "There were whales around when they played the bowls sometimes," he says. But, he points out, this is a humpback sanctuary; there are always whales around.

This fact is especially evident the following morning, when there seems to be a particular abundance of spouts and surface activity visible in the distance as we board Hoi's boat. Soon after we settle in and pull away from the Rorqual, Hoi spots a mother and a calf. The pair moves slowly, apparently entering a resting state, which is the best time to initiate an encounter. Resting whales usually rise, take several breaths, then return to their position below. Hoi watches as the mother and calf blow once, twice, three times and then arch their slick, gray backs and descend toward the ocean floor.

"Slip into the water," he says. "Swim about 30 feet off the port side and look down."

It's important to enter the water while the animals are resting near the floor of the coral shelf, and to do so with as little noise as possible -- whales can hear every scuff and bump against the hull of the tender, and making too much of a racket can dissuade them from sticking around.

Ten of us are in the water, and we turn back periodically to watch Hoi, who holds his arm extended in a line pointing toward the whales. We keep swimming, glancing over our shoulders until he signals for us to stop.

The water in the Silver Bank is a deep turquoise blue, the kind of hue usually confined to dyed fountains on miniature golf courses. Beneath the surface, softly wavering beams of sunlight reach down 50 or 60 feet, casting mottled patterns over the dark back of the mother whale. Tucked beneath one of her pectoral fins is her calf.

The snorkelers begin to spread out at the surface. I follow Nelson toward the front of the group, where we position ourselves at a perpendicular angle to the whales, hoping for a face-to-face encounter when they surface to breathe.

The calf is the first to stir; the mother humpback can stay down for up to 15 or 20 minutes, Tom says, while her six- to 10-week-old baby must breathe every three to six minutes. Nelson points down, and I watch as the nose of the calf tilts upward and the body slowly slides from beneath the mother's fin, turning up toward the surface. About eight feet away, the calf tilts so that I am caught in its dark-eyed, curious gaze. The calf moves closer. Then the young whale abruptly twists into a full-body roll, pale underside with long lines of ventral pleats exposed as if hoping for a belly rub. Just as I'm thinking how adorable this is, Nelson's arm tugs sharply against my waist and jerks me backward through the water.