Whose privilege ?

It's about 5 o'clock PM. The leaflet in my hands says that we will be given thermal sailing outfits during the whale-watching trip, even though when we board the Haukur, the temperature is mild, so I'm wearing just a polar fleece and a windproof jacket. Mild, for Husavik, a harbor town in the north of Iceland, is more or less what I'm used to in winter, in Lisbon, my home city. Still I think that what I'm wearing is enough, but when the boat starts leaving the harbor and gaining speed, the chill goes right to my bones. I put on my gloves and wool hat, and prepare myself for the three hour trip.

The Haukur (icelandic for Hawk) is a two-mast schooner, the last of its kind in Iceland. According to our guide, Nils, these boats were used for shark fishing on the 19th century, and this particular boat, even though it was not a schooner originally, was converted in order to recreate the feeling of sailing in the northern Atlantic. It is now used for the "Whales and Sails" trip, in the bay of Skjalfandi, off the coast of Husavik.

For some time we went on without seeing any animals, but Nils kept reassuring us that North Sailing had a 95% record of sightings and that he himself had seen whales on every trip he went on, so we were confident. I was hoping to see some humpbacks, given that they are the most playful species, and I secretly had the hope of photographing some whale breaching. Our first encounter, though, was with a white-beaked dolphin. We followed him for a while but eventually he got tired of all the attention and went his own way. After a while we spotted another animal and this time there was no mistake, it was a humpback. This one however, was a bit shy, and all I could get was a glimpse of a white flipper but it was too quick for me even to try and take a photograph.

We were still near the place where we spotted the humpback when I saw the captain point to the horizon and heard him shout "Blue Whale !". Now if you follow these stories, particularly one of my first ones, you have a pretty good idea of how I felt when I heard him. My bones chilled again, but this time not because of the weather. I could not believe I would be near the biggest animal ever to live on the planet. At first we could only see the spouts, but even the spouts were huge, going 5 or 6 meters high, or sometimes even more.

As the boat approached we noticed that it was not one blue whale but a couple. And they were feeding, oblivious of our presence. The boat slowed down almost to a halt and we just stayed there admiring these magnificent animals. I could only see the last third of their bodies when they came out of the water, but it was enough to see that they were gigantic. The flukes (tail fins) alone were about 5 or 6 meters in diameter, about the length of the boat. At some point one of the animals passed right under the boat because I saw part of its body come out of the water near the hull, still I was not afraid. These animals could turn the boat or smash its hull anytime they wanted, however they were just happy to be there feeding. It makes me think that nature, no matter how powerful, will respect us if we treat it with respect.

After we left, we passed Lundey (Puffin Island), to watch some puffins, and on our way back the captain stopped the engines, and unfurled the beautiful red sails of the Haukur. There was not much wind, just a breeze, but it would be enough to take us back to Husavik. As soon as the engines stopped we could just sit back and listen to the waves. Soon after, Nils offered us some hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls, and told us that it's an old custom, if the captain thinks his crew is worthy, to give them some of his rum. It is called "Captain's Privilege". It turned out we were worthy enough, so we formed a small queue and one by one he poured a few rum in our mugs of hot chocolate. As I drank, feeling the beverage heat my throat, I thought about the experience I had just witnessed. The rum may be the captain's privilege, but being near a pair of the biggest animals that ever lived on Earth, in their own environment, is something that not many people will be able to witness in their lifetime. That, was my privilege.

Nature's gift

Altocumulus standing lenticularis, or lenticular clouds, are "stationery lens-shaped clouds that form at high altitudes". At least this is what wikipedia tells us about these strange cloud formations. Until recently all I knew about these clouds was what I could read on wikipedia (or other sources of information), or what I could see in some photos of my favorite nature photographers.

Most of my favorite photographers are either american or based in America. I have grown looking at magazines like National Geographic or, more recently, Outdoor Photographer, and marveling in the amazing landscape photos published on those magazines. It's only natural that I should want to go to the american continent to visit the same places that I had seen in such beautiful photographs, so last year me and some friends booked a flight to Vancouver, rented an SUV and drove to the Canadian Rocky Mountains.

First stop was Jasper National Park, where we stayed for three nights. The place took my breath away even if I could see very little of it because of the weather. We got low clouds and rain during all three days we were in Jasper. There I was, in a place I knew was absolutely stunning and all I could see were trees and boring gray clouds over those trees. I knew I was surrounded by magnificent scenery and beautiful mountains, but I just could not see them. Frustrating though it was, it was different from anything I was accustomed to in Europe. Due to demographic growth in the old continent, there are no National Parks like in America. In my own country, parks are just some small tracts of land someone has decided to preserve, but you can't really go anywhere without finding a telephone pole or some sign of civilization. In Jasper, and in other places in the Rockies, there are places where you can really get alone in Nature. It can be scary (it's bear country after all), but very rewarding at the same time.

Still, one cannot be immersed in Nature without having to live by the whims of the weather. At some point I found myself thinking that for some strange reason I was being punished with bad weather. Why was Nature doing that to me, who had flown around the world to show its magnificence ? Why wouldn't Nature reveal itself to me as it had done countless times to other photographers ? The answer to these questions is, of course, that Nature is unpredictable. We never know what's going to happen and we just have to go with the flow, take whatever gifts it has to offer, and make the best of them.

My luck (and the weather) started to change when we started going south in the direction of Banff National Park. We drove through the breathtaking Icefields Parkway (that's a subject for another story), and eventually stopped in the town of Banff, just besides the Vermillion Lakes. These lakes have been photographed many times, and my guide said that light there was always worth trying out, so one afternoon we arrived at the lakes, set up our tripods, and started shooting pictures of Mount Rundle reflected in the lake. The sky was a deep blue, with a few wisps of white cloud which worked really nice in the reflections on the surface of the lake, since there was no wind and the water was totally still.

Suddenly I noticed that the wisps of cloud just hung above Mount Rundle. More wisps came and just hovered there as if the mountain held on to them. I suddenly remembered some photos I had seen before and recognized what could only be the forming of lenticular clouds. And what's more amazing, they were forming at the perfect time for photography, just when the sun was setting and lighting them from below. The only thought that went through my head was something like "this is the most amazing sunset you have ever witnessed, so don't mess up and bring home some photos..." Nature was finally handing me a gift.

When I got to the place I was staying at in Banff, the owner asked me what I had been doing. I replied I had just witnessed the most incredible sunset in my life. "Oh, great ! Did you get some good photos ?". My answer was "You know what ? I did try to get some photos, but it doesn't matter... If this sunset is not recorded on film, at least it will live on in my memory". In the end, those photos turned out quite nice. Thanks for the gift, Nature.

We still have some accounts to settle in Jasper, though...

No worries

"No worries, mate" is a sentence that anyone who goes to Australia will most certainly hear more than once, in that slightly nasal accent so typical from the Land of Oz. And in my opinion, there is hardly a sentence that can define the relaxed spirit of australian people better than this one. In his book "Down Under", renowned travel author Bill Bryson states that "Australia has more things that can kill you in a very nasty way than anywhere else", yet the people there are still cheerful and quick-witted. Looks like they really don't have any worries at all.

As I landed in Perth , I was in the airport looking for my friend Kathleen, whom I had not seen in a while, since she moved from London to her homeland. Kath is most definitely a good example of this optimistic spirit in most australian people. She has seen some suffering and has suffered enough herself, and yet she manages to keep a positive attitude and an inspiring optimism.

She is waiting for me at the airport, although I first don't recognize her, because she dyed her hair brown, and I was looking for a blond girl. We greet each other and as we're leaving the airport she tells me that we are having dinner at Andrew and Eudotia's. Eudotia is her sister, and I had already met her and Andrew a few years before in London.

We had a wonderful dinner, a good conversation, and in the end, Andrew hands me his car keys. "You can have my car for the next three days, I'm going to Malasia on a business trip". I was planning to rent a car when I got to Perth, because I wanted to drive to the Pinnacles Desert for some photos. Pinnacles Desert is a place with some bizarre rock formations some 250 km North of Perth, and the only way to get there is either by bus or by car. I just wasn't expecting to go there driving a convertible Mazda MX-5. I was somewhat embarrassed with the offer, because I did not feel comfortable driving Andrew's car to that place and as me and Kath left their place, I told her so, and she just goes "No worries ! He knows you want to go there, that's why he lent you the car".

So two days later I took off from Perth to the Pinnacles Desert, in Nambung National Park, near a little village called Cervantes, on the western coast of Australia. Even though I was driving a convertible, the gods showed no mercy because at the horizon I could see some pretty dark clouds. As I approached the place, those dark clouds brought rain (lots of it), and I was thinking that maybe I had just driven 250 Km to stay inside a canvas top convertible looking at the Pinnacles Desert in the rain. But then a certain thought came through my mind: "no worries, lets just get there and see what happens". And about 5 minutes after I started driving in the desert, the clouds started opening up and I could finally see some blue sky. Of course I took my camera and tripod and started snapping away, but about 15 minutes later the clouds closed, this time, not to open up again. I returned to Perth under a dark gray sky and a merciless rain, but at least I had my photographs.

Today, almost two years have passed since I've been in Australia. Still, I think about my australian friends and the time I spent there. I remember the relaxed, optimistic, cheerful atmosphere of most people I met there, and I can't help but feel good with myself and think "no worries, mate".