Thar she blows!

The captain yelled, “Whale!” But by the time we looked it was gone. All that was left was the gray, swelling sea. But there was a nervous anticipation. We knew it had to come up again for air; it was just a matter of time. I imagine the feeling was similar for early whalers standing in their small boats, eyes peeled, harpoons at the ready.

Then, again, “Whale!” on the opposite side of the boat. Again, too late.

Finally, after an interminable wait, a spray of water erupted into the air nearby as if a pipe had burst. An enormous gray mass rose behind it, seawater sheeting down its sides. It was small as whales go, but still the biggest thing I’d ever seen in the water. It moved slowly, but with a purposefulness that said nothing was going to stop it.

Then, in somewhat of a letdown, I spotted its diminutive dorsal fin – no larger than you’d see on a dolphin a fraction of its size. It was as if an enormous giant of a man began speaking in a high squeaky voice.

The captain identified it as a Minke whale, which is the smallest of the baleen whales. I’m not certain, though, because the Bryde’s whale is very similar and much more common.  They are both sleek, have small dorsal fins and rarely show their flukes. Because its dorsal fin had a definite arch, and it rolled over a bit as it dove, as described in my Wildlife of the Galapagos book, I’m going with Bryde’s whale. They reach more than 15 tons and as much as 40 feet in length.

The whale stayed around the boat for about 15 minutes before we had to move on.