Currents of air wrapped themselves around me.
Touching my cold face and filling my ears with whale song.
The whimsical yet triumphant song of Southern Right whales.
As they arrive laden with treasure after their long migration from Antarctica.
Giving birth to precious calves in the cold Atlantic waters that swirl along our coast.
These shy and gentle creatures reminding us to believe in miracles again. In a magical universe as they ride the currents of our dreams.
Every winter the people of Hermanus wait in anticipation. Have you seen the whales yet? And then for the next four months our daily village life evolve around the whales. Tourists from all over the world gather in Hermanus for art and music festivals celebrating a miracle. With cold hands wrapped around steaming cups of coffee we watch whales.
Their gleaming black tails shatter indigo water as they lob-tail. Or tall plumes of frothing foam as they begin to breach. One…two…three…as much as seven times the adults may dive and propel their massive bodies high into the air. Flopping back into sparkling water. Whales are curious creatures. Near the shoreline they spy-hop. They poke gigantic blunt heads covered in grayish white barnacle like growths out of the water. Shyly watching the inquisitive humans.
The whale crier makes his daily trek along the cliff paths. His job to announce sightings. The notes from homemade bugle, a sun-dried length of twisted sea bamboo, swirl on the wind. As whale families sun themselves on the surface. Tiny calves play along their moms. Feeding on six hundred liters of milk a day. Sometimes two bulls will wrestle each other for the right to mate with a female. Which can only happen once every three years. So I guess the winner does take all.
I too make my daily trek. To Grotto Beach where waves claw the shore, dragging sand backwards. The gleeful tinkle of water over millions of tiny shells that line the shore. And where whales wander. Dark smudges, barely visible, except for the tell-tale signs of exhaled water spouting high into the air. The sound like the crack of a cannon. They sail with the wind. Their tall flukes slapping the water as they roll and play behind the breakers.
At Kwaaiwater I sip wine as the last of the sun reflect on a golden sea. Whale song fill my ears. My thoughts free to roam with the whales. Riding the currents of dreams.
Today I’m linking up with Five Minute Friday. The prompt word is: FILL
And Sunday Traveler. Linking up with fellow vagabonds. Adelina takes you with on her travels by packing you in her suitcase. Jess who loves ice-cream just as much as I do. Ashley a southern gypsy and SJ who chases donkeys in Croatia. Also with Christina the fairytale traveler.
Today I shared with you the miracle of the migration of Southern Right Whales to our shores here in Hermanus, South Africa.
The photographs are by P. Storbeck, except for the close up ones of the whales. They are published with the courtesy of Pinterest, Google Images and the Hermanus Times.