As we entered Stephen’s Passage, along the Alaskan coast, the weather was perfect, just a light southwest tail wind, overcast and cool. We admired the glassy, island-studded expanse from the beach on Cape Fanshaw as we ate lunch and watched the spouts from several Humpback Whales in the distance. This, we thought, was a great whale viewing experience.

The next day began like any other day. We were camped on an unnamed island between Cape Fanshaw and Hobart Bay. In the morning, we followed our routine: up at 4 am, take down the tent, boil water for oatmeal and coffee, load the boats, get on the water by 6:00. Perhaps hearing the Humpbacks’ song during the previous night could have keyed us in to the extraordinary day we were about to have.

As we approached Hobart Bay, we saw what was getting to be a familiar scene-- several whales surfacing in the distance. As we paddled closer, we observed how they would surface to take a breath a few times and then take a deeper dive, as their tails popped out of the water. A couple of miles off shore, we paused to pull out our cameras. The whales still appeared to be quite distant, wrapped up in the act of feeding on krill.

Dave and I rafted up for a moment. It was then that we spotted two whales coming closer . . . and closer . . . and closer! Seeing these 30 ton creatures surface 20 feet in front of our bows rendered us speechless. For a few minutes they just floated there and we just floated there, each of us observing the other. What were they thinking? Had they ever seen kayakers before? Did they think we were some sort of strange creatures moving around on the water surface with odd, rhythmic fin strokes?

Dave and I, of course, wondered if these massive creatures would suddenly dive and tip us over. But they seemed so sensitive to our presence that we dismissed the concern. One whale stayed near the surface. John, who was observing and filming from a few yards away, said he saw it roll slightly, turning it's eye to check us out more thoroughly. The second whale slowly sunk below the surface, gracefully traveling just below my boat.

The moment we spent all floating there together seemed to last an eternity. As Dave took a paddle stroke, bracing himself in the swell, the moment ended and they decided to swim away. They took one last breath at the surface. Then we saw one tail, followed by the next as they dove deep, probably in search of more krill.

To think that an animal so massive would be curious about us tiny creatures just amazes me. And to think that such a huge thing would be so gentle and cautious is equally amazing. We expected to see Humpbacks on this trip, but we never imagined an encounter this close. It was life-changing to be in the close presence an animal such as this.

Humpback whales are listed as endangered species. While they have made a dramatic recovery since the whaling heyday, their current population is only 30-35% of what it once was, according to NOAA (the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration). The Humpback population in the North Pacific is estimated to be about 20,000. Dave and I have a new found respect for these gentle giants and we sincerely hope that conservation efforts will continue, allowing for even more of a population rebound.