8Feb12 - A It was a day of death. And Life. In the thick morning fog we dropped onto the beach, a few meters away the Fijians were picking the last meat from the whale bones that were lying there. They didn’t leave any for the rest of us. A 12 meter skeleton lay, spine intact, ribs strewn around and the massive skull more than 2 meters long at the top of the small, stony beach. The Fijians didn’t really eat it, but I bet they could have. Gotta have something to soak that kava up. The grey whale hadn’t been there for too long, cartilage was still between the vertebrae and the tail, although fairly decomposed was still in one piece. It was impressive. Thick fog blanketed the bay. The only moisture this area has had in 20 years is the fog. It’s a dry, stony, cactus covered desert, beautiful in it’s own right, but from a distance completely barren to the eye. The whale’s skeleton had been transported from further up the coast for the tourists. Something that some of our crew had difficulty with, the sacredness of death, moving bones. I wondered if, in an area where there is so little to make a living on perhaps the whale wouldn’t mind helping out after death. It was certainly a special thing to come close to a skeleton like that. As we motored out to the mouth of the bay the fog burnt off and we spent the afternoon with the living creatures. Grey whales were playing all around us, blows and pec fins and tails galore. We even had a couple mating, and without going into too much detail they were energetic, took a very long time about it and didn’t mind how many people were watching.
Posted on: Wed, 02 Jul 2014 23:56:51 +0000
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