TALES FROM THE BUSH Getting too close for comfort with a whale
While filming cetaceans in the Azores, Chris VyvyanRobinson gives the boat crew something to laugh about.
S Our eyes met – then it released a massive cloud of excrement. T
After working on
Pico, the Azores, for three years, I assumed I had seen my fair share of what this small island had to offer. Yet nothing prepared me for one of the most memorable few seconds of my life.
I was filming a naturalhistory documentary, focusing on changes to Pico Island’s community, following the whale hunting ban in 1984. Preparing for the shoot was a laborious process, especially obtaining a permit to film sperm whales underwater.
As so often on these expeditions, the first week brought little success because the usually azure waters were thick with plankton. There was no lack of whales – humpback, sperm and blue were seen daily with spray from their blows filling the horizon – but the visibility was so poor we couldn’t observe anything, even from 5m away. On the last day of filming, I knew I couldn’t go home empty handed and had to capture some footage now the visibility had improved. At our filming location, the water was 2km deep – if a cetacean wanted to vanish, it could.
The skipper manoeuvred the vessel and I jumped into the cold water about 100m in front of approaching sperm whales, hoping one would get close enough for me to film it. Swimming slowly, I could hear the marine giants but couldn’t see them.
The clicks of their sonar were so strong I could feel them reverberating throughout my body. Suddenly, a 40-tonne bull appeared as if from nowhere and sped towards me. I quickly angled my camera in front of my body like a shield, preparing for the impending impact.
For a split second our eyes met – it was an immense creature, exuding intelligence and a quiet serenity that touched my soul. As it passed mere millimetres from my body, the cetacean released a massive cloud of excrement that covered me head to fin, filled my snorkel and turned the water a dark brown.
I surfaced and let out a string of exuberant profanities to the hilarity of the crew on the boat. This messy moment was thankfully followed by a cleaner encounter with a mother and calf later in the day.
CHRIS VYVYAN-ROBINSON is a scuba instructor, film-maker and journalist.