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"Heaven is where: the police are British, the cooks are Italian, the mechanics are German, the lovers are French, and it is all organized by the Swiss. Hell is where: the chefs are British, the mechanics are French, the lovers are Swiss, the police are German, and it is all organized by the Italians." -- T-shirt in Tortola, British Virgin Islands
141--Alaska: A Whale of a Time
@ CherieSpotting
Jul 29 2003 - 15:11 PST |
One of the approximately 1000 humpback whales that swim along Alaska's coast in the summer. *Photo by Rick | Did he catch a whale? *Photo by Rick | Midnight never looked so colorful. |
Who wants shrimp? | Shrimp for everyone! | We tied up to another boat, and had dinner with them. |
Playing cards in the cockpit. | Dave and Sue | A float plane lands right next to S/V Bob. *Photo by Dave. |
Free mineral baths! What a view! | A crab for each hand. | The gang's ready to go ashore. |
Dave at the helm. | Two Kings? | Near the water. *Photo by Dave. |
That's a trail? *Photo by Dave. | Rick coming to get us after a hike. | Gliding in the dinghy over sea anemones. *Photo by Dave. |
A little closer. | Underwater flowers? | When the tide goes out. |
A sea star hangs on for life. | Without water, the sea anemones look just yucky. | Sunset again. |
Sue and Dave. | Don't bite the hand that catches you! *Photo by Rick. | Seals! *Photo by Rick |
Bear Tracks. *Photo by Rick | The 8 knot current almost submerges this buoy. | Cherie's wrestling with a big one! |
The crew of S/V Bob. | Here's Greg by a sign at High Tide. | Greg by the same sign after the tide has dropped 22 feet. |
High Tide. | High Tide. | Low Tide. |
High Tide. | Low Tide. | A Yellow Walrus? |
cherie writes: As we sailed from cove to cove, I would sit on the bow and listen to Isabelle’s mesmerizing tales about circumnavigating the globe alone. Isabelle and I were watching a humpback whale swirl around a shoal of herring which creates a “net of bubbles” that trap the fish. Then the whale splashes out of the water, its twelve foot jaws agape and gulps down his mid-day snack. While the whale “bubble fed,” Isabelle made a confession.
“I hit a whale when I was sailing alone once.”
“You hit a whale once, or you sailed around the world alone once?” I asked.
“I sailed around the world four times, I hit a whale once.” Isabelle clarified. “I worried I hurt the whale because all of a sudden the ocean became discolored.”
“What did you do?” I asked astonished.
“I looked closer and realized it wasn’t blood. She broke my rudder, but she was okay.”
“Isabelle, are you telling me you scared the shit out of a whale?”
“You could say it that way,” she said.
Click on each picture to see it full size.
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