The sun beat down on my bright yellow kayak as gentle waves rocked the hull back and forth. Directly behind me was the port of Churchill, an interesting and diverse place. Home to about 3000 beluga whales that migrate from the Arctic Ocean to the Churchill River.
Directly in front of me was a pod of belugas. Dozens of magnificent glistening creatures gliding gracefully in and out of the water.
I’d spent the past half hour trying to maneuver my watercraft near enough to get a good glimpse. But they were really good at eluding me. Just when I’d get near, they’d dart off in the opposite direction. Just like that, they’d be gone. Leaving little hope I’d ever get to see them up close.
Exciting first connections
Until at one point, all of a sudden as if on cue, all of them turned my way. And headed in my exact direction. Coming straight at me! Here in this tiny little kayak.
My first instinct was to turn around and paddle the hell out of there. They could so easily flip this boat if they really wanted to. Even though our guide from Sea North Tours assured us they were docile, how could we be certain? What if they weren’t? What if they had a bad day and got angry and wanted to take it out on humans?
Thoughts of marine doom flashed through my mind. My pulse quickened, and waves of anxiety welled up in my chest. But I took a deep breath anyway, pointed my kayak in their direction, and paddled straight towards them. As fast as I could. Just like that.
I just had to go for it. I had to trust.
Even though I’m partially terrified, and part of me is hoping they will veer off… they don’t. They keep coming straight towards me, and me towards them.
A few seconds later, I’m surrounded. Literally. There are belugas underneath me. Some in front of me. Some behind. Some alongside just below the surface. They are everywhere, swarming from every direction.
They are so close I could reach out and touch them.
My adrenaline is racing full force as I work up the nerve to stretch out my hand. But before I have the chance to even let go of my paddle… poof! They’re gone. Just like that. Just as quickly as they came.
Chasing second chances
That first encounter happened so fast, and left me wanting more. It was no longer scary. Now, it was totally thrilling. I spent the next few hours chasing them down, moving my kayak around, and trying to lure them back. Hoping they will notice me just one more time.
Our guide told us they like movement, so I kept my boat moving. Forward, backward, paddling in little circles. Once they notice you, she said, they’re curious and will want to check you out.
She also tells us they like music, and we should sing to them. I chose an old aquatic favourite The Tide Is High by Blondie. I sang this song once while swimming with dolphins in Australia – and the dolphins loved it! They were drawn to it, and stayed close by the whole time I clumsily sang it out loud through my snorkel.
Belugas, though, not so much. They didn’t seem to care for The Tide is High. However, they did like Crazy by Patsy Cline, and Paul McCartney’s Mull Of Kintyre. I had just seen him in concert a few days before in my hometown of Winnipeg, so that unshakeable melody was still fresh in my mind.
Singing brought the belugas over to my kayak again and again. As they got more comfortable with me, and learned to trust me, I learned to trust them back. Occasionally they’d bump up against the bottom of my boat, gently raising me up in the air. Sometimes they’d swim directly underneath, flipping their little white bodies upside-down and gazing up at me while they float by.
I swear they even smiled.
Final fleeting moments
Each time they approached, I felt more at ease. Eventually, I was able to finally reach out and touch them. Stretching out my hand and waiting for them to glide by and press up against me as they passed.
Eventually, though, they must have gotten tired of me, my funny boat, and gazillion songs. Because in one synchronized instant, as if on cue, they all turned and swam away from my little yellow kayak. Gone for good this time.
Leaving behind a fleeting wake and lingering memories I’ll always treasure.
Just like that.
