The gray whale southbound migration is turning north. The Point Vicente counting station reported the biggest year by far. Well over 1800, which is 500 more than the record of 30 years ago.

These whales just don’t swim by. They put on a show. Lots of tails waving as they dive. Spy hopping to check out the neighborhood. Swimming on side waving  pectorals. Rolling. And just milling about in pods of 3 or 4 up to 9 whales having a good time.

They’re accompanied by dolphins, common, Pacific whites (the one’s with the racing strips), occasional bottle nose. Not to mention, humpbacks, fins, and assorted other big guys.

I’ve seen these gentle giants. They must be experienced. Video is a really poor substitute. I’ve been awed and scared and a bunch of other emotions. A 100 foot blue surfacing 25 feet away is indescribable.

I visited the point’s station in January for an hour. They’d already counted 57 grays. Seven more showed up for me, including a youngster. I left 15 minutes or so before sunset. More whales past them. The day’s count was 65.

Gotta go whaling, says I.

Got the camera and binoculars a crew and boat, sailed out and parked in the zone, tuned in channel 68 and waited. Flat seas visibility 10 miles. Sure enough the VHF started chattering about a whale here, another there, north of, south of, 3 miles out, even 100 feet offshore in the sea weed.

Whales everywhere with one conspicuous exception. Yes, I was in a whale free zone. Oh well, thar be whales tomorrow.

Nada on the next day, nor the next 3 trips. Even dolphins were hiding. Finally saw a few Pacifics. Now dolphins tend to splash white while moving fast, so are easy to spot. These were in stealth mode, barely moving. Needed to pass within a boat length to pick them out from the small waves. Never seen them behaving like that before.

My next attempt was solo. I wasn’t coming back ’til I saw a whale. Any whale would do. Camera, stocked up snacks, even a sandwich. Moderate wind but seas left over from a recent near gale. Surf was reported to be 6 to 8 with occasional sets to 10 feet. Perhaps not such an accurate report: I’m 2 or 3 miles off of Point Vicente watching the 138 foot light house disappear. A fleet of grays could pass in the next trough and I’d never know.

I patrolled a couple square miles. All the while listening to the radio chatter about all their sightings. Although the seas were kind I was getting tired. It takes some work to even sit with waves and wind tilting your seat this way and that. After 5 hours with an hour to sunset (i.e. freeze butt time) it was time to go back.

The course back would be a deep broad reach with waves on the quarter. A fun ride but you need to pay attention. Eyes behind your head would help. Waves trying to slew you around and when that happens she heels abruptly so you could easily have the pleasure of getting intimate with the lee side.

But surfing a wave is a favored experience. Wave lifts the stern, sound of water surging, sensation of speed, then bow lifts, she slows, sails sag. And you wait the next set. It becomes addicting. I like to stand, legs apart, holding tiller on my tail with every control line within reach. And one can see further. I’m still hopeful.

I pass inside the RV10 buoy which marks the grave of the 400′ Dominator. Past the crab trap buoys. Still got 10 footers, maybe fewer. Just having a good sail.

Then perhaps 5 points off the port bow, 10 o’clock to everyone else, the tiniest of blows drifts above a wave. Not even sure it was a blow. Then a second smaller one off the beam. Whatever it is it’s close and I’m rapidly passing. Can’t see for the waves.

Then a huge wave and on the crest are two grays, gone in seconds. I ponder a moment and decide not to give chase; they’re already astern, I’m tired, and getting a picture in those seas is almost a miracle. Ask me how I know.

I’ve seen my whale. If only for a moment. And I know why I hadn’t seen them earlier.

It’s the camera.