We went away to take in the fall colors and unwind. Ah, but our R&R trip had a few spicy excursions in the mix. Off Cape Cod, several humpback calves were out with their mothers. One young whale swam alongside its mother, then launched itself out of the water.
Between misty walks in Maine and that exceptional whale watch—the best I have ever been on—there was plenty to discover and carry home.Boothbay Harbor, Maine, was quiet in late September and early October: all the better to enjoy it! Our first impression was of the harbor opening wide beneath a grey sky, a cormorant diving, another resting on a buoy, and a town catching its breath after summer’s endless activity. My husband, Jean, and I had come to Spruce Point Inn to trade our usual go-go routines for some room to roam and discover—and, more importantly, to remember how to do less and notice a little more.
We drove to Boothbay Harbor, white-knuckling our way through a nor’easter, so getting out to explore the misty bayside trails with the dogs felt like a small luxury. This commodious place seemed almost like ours alone. The surrounding paths and trails were nearly empty, and our dogs seemed willing to slow down, too.
There were lots of walks and bike rides, then a chance to take the chill off with grog warmed by the gas stove. The food was truly delish, with an original twist. One evening, we ended by the fire pit with traditional s’mores. Some traditions simply cannot be improved!
A change of scenery, good eats, and afternoons with no pressing agenda gave me time to think about new creations already in motion. It was a good time to cogitate and separate, just a little, from the lengthy stretches of writing, editing, drawing, and revising. It is both fun and freeing to work this way, but it involves embracing details—and occasionally giving oneself a rejuvenating break.
Stepping away allows new insights, and often changes. Being outside has a way of returning me to the things that made me want to create what has been building inside for a while. When the dogs stop for reasons of their own, I notice what I might have hurried past. A new idea arrives that might belong in a story—or might simply make the walk more interesting. Either way, it is always time well spent.
Next stop: Cape Cod for more trails, beaches, and roaming. But the whale watch was the icing on the Cape Cod cake. My brother Brandon, Jean, and I headed out from Barnstable Harbor into Cape Cod Bay on a clear, crisp October day. It was cold on the water, especially when we reached the open sea.
We saw multiple humpback whales feeding. I believe there must have been at least 20. That includes seeing whales’ spouts rising in white plumes in the distance, and some whales surfacing close to the boat. There were mothers with their calves, too. One baby even copied its mother’s breach, launching itself out of the water and splashing back beneath the waves. Seeing these enormous mammals rise so high above the water was simply outstanding. My brother caught the breach on video—a moment I’m grateful to share with his permission.
What struck me most was the whales’ grace. I was mesmerized by the contrast between their fluidity and ease of movement, and their power. An adult humpback can weigh as much as 40 tons and reach speeds of roughly 17 miles per hour, yet watching one dive, turn, or breach so easily was downright impressive. (NOAA; Cetacean Research & Rescue Unit)
It reminded me of bears moving slowly and deliberately—or so it appears—as they negotiate around potted plants, or garden tables. These large animals can move very fast, up to 35 miles per hour, yet they can pick their way through small spaces with surprising care. Watching the whales brought back that same fascination: size and strength accompanied by a grace we might overlook until we stop long enough to see it. You can watch reel of the baby humpback breaching in the Featured Clip section of this site.
The humpbacks we watched also brought another whale to mind: the endangered North Atlantic right whale. NOAA’s latest published estimate puts the population at about 380, with only about 70 reproductively active females. There have been modest recent gains, but these are frighteningly small numbers for an entire species. Commercial whaling nearly wiped them out; today, entanglement in fishing gear and collisions with vessels are among their leading threats. Changing ocean conditions also shift their food supply and the places they must travel to find it. (NOAA Fisheries)
Norway and Japan still conduct commercial whale hunts, and tradition remains part of the argument for continuing them. Even though whaling was once a major American industry, the U.S. acknowledged that traditions can change. Living whales offer coastal communities an enduring source of income through responsible whale watching. Visitors buy tickets, stay at inns, eat in restaurants, and return for another chance to see these magnificent animals. Protecting whales makes economic sense, as well as being something we owe the animals themselves. (International Whaling Commission; IWC Whale Watching Handbook)
We can help by choosing responsible whale-watching operators like Hyannis Whale Watcher Cruises, which participates in the Whale SENSE program. The program trains captains and naturalists in whale ecology, viewing guidelines, and regulations. We can also support work to prevent entanglements and vessel strikes. For right whales, that includes safer fishing gear and slower vessel speeds where whales are present. Giving them room matters, too: in U.S. waters, boats and other viewers must generally remain at least 500 yards from a North Atlantic right whale. Admiration should come with care. (NOAA’s marine life viewing guidelines)
A mother whale and her calf have stayed with me as I return to writing and drawing. I want other people to have the chance to witness what we did—to watch these animals moving freely through their own world. The space between stories gave me time to look, and something worth speaking up for.
If this story leaves you wanting to help, you can support the Center for Coastal Studies’ Right Whale Emergency Initiative in Provincetown, which monitors right whales in Cape Cod Bay, or the New England Aquarium, whose research program has studied North Atlantic right whales for decades. NOAA’s right whale page also explains the protections and conservation work underway.
For now, I’m happy to let my new book find its readers while these memories settle in and as I continue to draft new writings. Feel free to check out A Year of Magic, available in paperback at Barnes & Noble.