A zodiac is the best way to see whales. We were racing at high speed along the east coast of Newfoundland in a zodiac filled with a dozen people in search of a sperm whale. It was a relatively calm sea but 50 mph makes for a noisy, bumpy, wet, and exhilarating ride. We'd seen "literally" tons of humpbacks and fin whales over the past few days and gotten lots of tail shots as they propelled themselves into deep dives, but sperm whales were not as common and it was exciting to hear that there was one somewhere in the area. It seemed like our chances were pretty slim, though. It could be anywhere and not just longitude/latitude wise but depth wise. And it could stay down for an hour so we could pass right over it and be none the wiser. Even if it was on the surface, blowing, it was a challenge to spot the spout up against the seemingly ever present fog. We stopped for a humpback and were about to turn back because of heavy fog ahead when the spotter called it out - “sperm whale three o’clock!” 800 meters out, full speed ahead, the skipper calling out bearing and distance at every blow, ocean spray crashing over us, trying to get there before the dive, the bus shaped/sized head coming into view, it’s back arching downward in the telltale shape of the deep dive just as we arrived, the huge tail lifting up trailing a long, wide curtain of water until it was totally vertical, seeming to pause and then slipping into the waves … then gone. What a great ride.
I went to Newfoundland for the whales, the hope of capturing a big tail shot and the chance to see icebergs. My research showed that mid July was virtually a lock for whales but the icebergs were likely to be gone – even though it was a record year for bergs (thank you global warming). So I was excited to hear, when I arrived at my first location, that one of only two remaining icebergs around Newfoundland was stuck in a bay nearby. I learned that the whale/iceberg combo is the grand prize photograph for some and the guide services pride themselves on delivering the opportunity for such a shot. I went out twice a day in the zodiac – on the morning and evening runs – and every time we’d hunt for whales and visit the iceberg. If we sighted whales nearby, we’d maneuver to try and line up a combo shot. Quite a feat on their part really, if you consider the logistics of finding and predicting whale movement in the ocean, lining the whale up with the only iceberg around, and timing it capture it diving. For my part I had the challenge of getting the whale in focus and keeping it and the iceberg in frame from a small boat on rolling seas while keeping my camera dry. This particular day the thick fog that engulfed the ice created a magical view of what looked like an ice castle in the clouds. We slowly circled around the base and gawked at the size and beauty and craned to take pictures of the steep sides towering above us – always ready to blast out of there if it began to crack or shift. Then we ventured back to open waters and farther down the coast. On the return leg of our tour, we picked up a humpback headed in the direction of our iceberg and the maneuvering fun began. There were some opportunities to include both in frame but nothing worthwhile as the ice was just a hunk of white off in the distance. Then he did a deep dive and we lost him. “Blow at one o’clock!.” He’d surfaced - much farther ahead and close to the berg - but too far for a shot. We raced to catch up and as we approached we could see he was going to dive again. I steadied myself as the boat swung and rolled into position and fired away as soon as I thought I had locked on to him. I got five shots off in a second just as he went under. Three were just waves and ice. One caught a tail half submerged. And this one - WHAT LIES BENEATH.
