Braving rough seas pays off with a look at playful whales
Cara Pekarcik, our Boston Harbor Cruises tour guide, had warned us. "It will get quite windy out there," she'd said over the loudspeaker.
That was an understatement. I'd decided to sit at the bow of the catamaran taking us almost 20 miles outside Boston Harbor to search for whales, figuring that's where I'd get the best view. But once the boat started picking up speed, I realized my mistake.
It was a warm day, but out on the water, the wind dominated. All I could think was: Why hadn't I worn socks?
I struggled to put the sweater and rain jacket I'd shed at the start of the cruise back on. My dangling earrings were pummeling my face, so I took them off and threw them into my purse. I finally gave up on the fantastic view and ducked inside the cabin. By then, all the best tables by the windows had been taken. Annoyed at myself, I slunk into one of the auditorium-style chairs in the center of the cabin.
But soon enough it became clear that no one would be spared from the harshness of the water. We were rocking back and forth and hopping over waves. It felt like going over gigantic speed bumps, and we could see water splashing on the deck. A few rows ahead of me, a teenager buried his head in his hands. A crew member was handing out barf bags. I could hear people gagging.
"Motion sickness," said a German girl sitting behind me as she popped a pill.
"Wake me when you see whales," replied her male friend.
I got up when I spotted a seat by a window but almost fell getting to it. It was worse than being in a plane during turbulence.
Finally, an hour and a half later, we slowed down. We had arrived at the Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary, an 842-square-mile stretch of open water at the mouth of Massachusetts Bay.
Pekarcik, a marine biologist and teacher, started her lecture. The whales usually arrive from the Caribbean in late March to search for food, she said, and stay until October or November. They'll only stay for as long as there's food in the New England waters, and the waters are never manipulated. That is, marine biologists don't throw fish into the water for the whales.
Pekarcik said she would let us know where the whales were based on the hands of a clock. I was near 12 o'clock, sitting beside a window and near a door, so I could easily run out if a whale appeared.
Suddenly, Pekarcik's voice boomed over the loudspeaker. She had spotted something. We rushed out to the railing, but I didn't see anything. Neither did anybody around me.