Reykjavík Grapevine - 13.07.2012, Blaðsíða 47

Words
Byron Wilkes
Photography
Juli Vol
47
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 10 — 2012
Travel | Whales
As the Life of Whales ship passes by the il-
lustrious facade of the immaculate Harpa, its
glass panes shimmer a multitude of colours.
The intensive labour (not to mention the 27
billion ISK) expended in its construction is
nothing short of breath-taking, but the ship
we're aboard isn't moving toward manmade
glory. It's sailing to the wonders of the natural
world.
The informational placards inside the ship's main
cabin aren’t faded, but seem to have been perused
many times. The simple images on them offer only
a hint of the beauty of the animals that they depict.
I'm sitting aboard the Life of Whales ship, mull-
ing over a healthy dose of scepticism I have about
this "adventure." That will change later in the trip,
but for now I can't get over the old menu behind
the snack bar and its circa 1983 design for various
beers and other drinks.
About a dozen or so people are on the trip to-
day, and as each one files in, their presence hardly
puts a dent in the vacuous but lounge-like space
of the ship, designed for 200 guests.
Behind the snack bar is Hilmar Stefánsson,
part owner of the company. He assures me today's
crowd isn't representative of the year-round busi-
ness. Our ship leaves the harbour quickly and our
voyage is underway.
PRIMED TO SEE MINKE
Hilmar says at its peak the ship will have 60–80
guests, often more in July and August. Because
the business stays open around the year, guests
will see different aquatic fauna in the waters north
of Reykjavík. Orcas come in January and February;
humpback whales in the spring, and we're primed
to see minke whale this late May day, he says.
I've put the stale but somehow endearing de-
sign of the menu and placards aside. The wind is
high and the waves are strong today, but Iceland's
infamous summer sun is hiding behind a thick
blanket of clouds. The 914-metre-tall Mt. Esja
watches the ship from a distance—not ominously,
but more like a sentinel of Iceland's natural beauty.
As the ships approaches Viðey, everyone inside
shuffles on deck to look at the hundreds of white
birds around the isle. Something that looks like a
pigeon flies by and somebody exclaims, "There's
one!" It's definitely not a puffin. Fortunately our
tour guide effortlessly spots the puffins among
the swarms of kittiwakes and seagulls, pointing
his arm to help our wandering eyes find a flock of
no more than ten puffins.
For a Scandinavian literature major two months
on the job, he's incredibly sharp. I don’t get to test
him about Icelandic Sagas, but his puffin trivia
checks out: the birds live mostly at sea but come
to land to breed, living in colonies. The ship comes
close enough to the small, rocky island so that our
guide, Björn, can tell us what is or isn't a puffin.
GEYSERS, A SURE SIGN?
The ship turns around and we head northwest.
Björn informs us we're heading to whale territory.
Forty-five minutes to an hour later, we're much
farther out. The waves are higher and the wind
is stronger. Björn tells us to look for tiny geysers
shooting out of the water, a sure sign of a whale
he assures us.
Well, not that sure. I begin seeing several of
these waterspouts at a time under hovering flocks
of birds. Not whales yet, but rather gannets, exqui-
site seabirds that fly 10–15 metres over the water
before gracefully and powerfully diving into the
ocean to snag a few fish. With a wingspan that
can reach two metres, they're the super-model,
super-athlete of the sea. By and large the flocks
don't comprise gannets, though.
Like American hipster-tourists hunting for a
totally rad underground bar in Reykjavík to post
on Instagram, flocks of other lazy-ass birds wait
for gannets to surface before trying to steal their
piscine loot. I realise what's going on and think
to myself, "Not cool, man. Seagulls are kind of
pricks." I haven't seen a whale yet but I'm still en-
grossed in the gannets' process of flying up, diving
down, and trying to scarf down some fish before
some uninvited scene-ster bird brings 20 of his
friends to the after-party.
Minutes after seeing the first gannet, the first
minke whale appears, then another, then another.
Their beauty is fleeting, but mesmerizing, and one
wonders if having seen a single minke whale will
become a rarity for future generations. The whales
surface for a second or two, blowing out water and
sinking below the water again. Even if you don't
have quick eyes you'll likely find one within 10–60
metres of the ship.
As we head back, the sun comes out for a sec-
ond here and there. To see the land and water of
Iceland from the mainland is one thing, but to see
the ocean's occupants so close and so intimately
is quite another.
WHALES ARE COOL, SEAGULLS ARE NOT
To book your own whale-watching trip, call 354-562-2300 or visit the
Life of Whales website: www.hvalalif.is.
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