Arriving at the summit, I was relieved to see one other brave soul peering out at the horizon.
Over the next hour, we discussed at length whether the whales might arrive that day, the whole scenario feeling very reminiscent of my favourite play from the year 12 syllabus, Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. Two people waiting for someone or something they believe will provide them with salvation.
Much like in Beckett’s play, salvation (the whales) never arrived, and while I appreciate that was his whole point – No one is coming to save you! Existence is meaningless! – I refused to give up hope.
Day two was clear, crisp and still; in the wise words of Carlos from the front desk: “Today is the day.” I retraced my steps up the headland, which was now crowded with onlookers. Apparently, the whales had been breaching on and off all morning. Salvation within touching distance, I trained my eyes on the ocean, scanning the water for any sign of life.
An hour passed, then another, and occasionally a ripple of excitement would murmur through the crowd, only for some killjoy to announce it was a false alarm. The longer this went on, the more desperate I became, wondering if we might make a secret pact. Let’s all say we saw a whale, and no one will be any the wiser? This was followed by a brief period of hallucination, spotting whales where there were none. Look, everyone, over there! Is that? Ah, damn, more marine debris.
So much waiting, so little reward.Credit: Reg Lynch
Eventually, the crowd dispersed, but I stayed behind even as traffic on the Humpback Highway remained silent. It was at this point that I realised the term whale watching is a misnomer, given that you don’t spend much, if any, time watching the whales. It should really be called whale monitoring, or better yet, Waiting for Whales. Perhaps Beckett was right all along.
And then, in the distance, a quick splash and what appeared to be a flash of fin. Was it just a school of fish or a trick of the mind? Possibly. Did I care? Absolutely not. Salvation had arrived, and I couldn’t wait to tell Carlos.
Find more of the author’s work here. Email him at thomas.mitchell@smh.com.au or follow him on Instagram at @thomasalexandermitchell and on Twitter @_thmitchell.
