Whale Parade

The morning is always the most beautiful part of the day in the Great Bear. Dawn creeps over the mountains in the early hours, softly igniting the landscape with pale hues – blues and greens and purples. As colour returns to Gil Island, the noisy laughter of ravens breaks the morning silence. Life slowly begins to quiver. The ocean laps with the gentlest rhythm, and the sun gradually resumes its familiar place on the rocky horizon. We set out yesterday on one of these peaceful Great Bear mornings for our first whale survey as interns. Light had just begun to dust the cedar branches, and the ocean had only the most delicate of wrinkles. We slowly made our way up Squally Channel – one of the proposed routes for the Enbridge tankers -- hoping to spot the curve of a dorsal fin or any indication of whales in our midst. Along the way, we saw five Dall’s porpoises loping elegantly through the water, and eventually, we stopped at the southern entrance of Lewis Passage. The purr of the engine was extinguished, and Hermann lowered the hydrophone into the sea. For a few moments, all that was heard was the slap of the water along the hull of the boat. Then, the magical, echoing notes of orca reached our ears. We heard dozens of voices, overlapping and interacting excitedly in a language that we can only dream to understand. But where were they? All eyes searched the horizon for any signs of the orcas, and soon, a misty blow was seen in the distance. Slowly, a few whales made their way towards us along the shore of Gil Island, and many more were soon to follow. Along the backdrop of a delicate blue sky, we were passed by at least fifty whales. They moved closely together, dorsal fins breaking the face of the water, gracefully and rhythmically emerging and disappearing back under the surface. Calves swam close to their mothers, their small bodies curling as they kept the pace of their larger family members. At one point, our boat was embraced by a semi-circle of at least ten orcas. They rested quietly on the surface, breathing in sync, leaving clouds of mist suspended in the air. The sound of their breath resonated across the water and gave us both tears and shivers. We stayed with the whales for quite some time. A few times they would come to investigate our boat – so close that we could see their distinctive black and white patterns beneath the surface of the ocean. But gradually, all of the many groups made their way towards Squally Channel, and eventually, we were alone again. We took a few moments to regain our breath, and then, we made our way back to the lab. Exhausted, emotional, and privileged to have experienced such a magical event. And on the return journey we traveled again through Squally Channel, which is a proposed route for tanker traffic headed to and from the Enbridge pipeline terminal in Kitimat. Thinking about how vital this corridor is for whales and species of all kinds, it breaks all of our hearts to imagine this beautiful setting disrupted by large tanker ships. Deep rumbling engines, further obfuscating the ability of whales to communicate underwater. The always present risk of oil spills threatening the resiliency of this delicate environment. After such a disaster, would large groups of orcas ever be seen here again?

Video from Today:
Orca Parade in Squally Channel