The day started without the proverbial bang—grey, overcast, and dreary. But calm. Calm enough to scout for whales. Humpback whales.
As we sailed deep into the Øksfjorden, nearing its end, the landscape remained empty. Turning back at the midway point, a sense of anticipation gave way to excitement as a series of blows finally appeared—Humpback whales!
Not one, not two, not even five. A horde of over 25 strong Humpback whales circled around, feeding upon the throngs of helpless herring congregating in the fjord. The herring thought they were safe, far to the east of Kvænangen, the traditional hunting grounds of the savage humpbacks.
But no. As the herring moved further eastwards, so did the predators.
But it wasn't just the spectacle of hungry humpbacks, ripping and tearing through flesh and bone, that captivated our audience. A young Humpback, accompanied by his mother, decided that enough wasn't actually enough. He breached. Again and again, sometimes with his mother alongside, he would soar out of the water and into the air, desperately trying to speed up evolution and turn himself into a graceful soaring eagle. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. Evolution takes time, young one.
The Breacher, as he was known to his friends, or Breachy Boy as his sometimes overly affectionate mother called him, would leap into the air, twisting and turning as he perfected his aeronautical acrobatics. And they say whales can't fly.
