"I'm all out of superlatives!" exclaimed Steve from Curious in his lilting English accent, after we emerged from our incredible swim yesterday with Humpback whales. After writing numerous blogs about swimming with dolphins, diving with snakes, feeding sting rays, diving with manta rays, hearing the whales calling underwater, and everything else that we've all been so amazingly blessed to experience in the last year, he said he simply didn't know how he was going to write about this. And that was exactly what I was thinking as I floated motionless in the water, my arms limp at my sides, face to face and 20 feet from a sleeping Humpback whale, while her 1-week old calf swam energetically all around her.

Our day was chaperoned by Beluga Dive, one of the companies here in Neiafu licensed to conduct snorkeling trips with the whales. There is a lot of controversy over this issue, and much debate on the morning cruiser's net about what's legal, and what's right. As a group (s/v's Curious, Paikea Mist, Serenity, and Fly Aweigh) we had serious discussions before we booked our trip, and I almost didn't go. But in the end, we chose one of the companies with a good reputation and now, after this once-in-a-lifetime experience, none of us bear any regrets. We know that the mother could take her calf and be gone in seconds, and we know she could have exhibited behavior that made it clear she was not going to welcome us into the family. But she and her calf were spectacularly hospitable and we are better humans for it.

She sleeps with one eye open, her pectoral fins resting at her sides, occasionally moving slowly through the water to surface for a breath, and always aware of her surroundings. She knew we were there, she knew where the calf was at all times, and she was as patient and mellow as any new mother I've ever met. We postulated she was simply exhausted, but also, I think she knew we were not a threat. We didn't have harpoons, we moved slowly and cautiously, never putting ourselves between her and her baby, and not making any overt moves towards them. A few times when the curious calf swam near us, she gently moved, positioning herself between us and her. (Our best guess is that the calf was a she.) But most of the time mom was just fine with the gawking humans. Once, when the calf was resting on her nose -- which she did a lot -- the mother nudged her off and gave her a gentle shove towards us. We had heard that sometimes mothers will encourage their young to interact with humans, but typically not until after they have reached 3 months, so we were surprised at this gesture.

We were allowed to go in the water and swim gently toward them to a certain distance, 4 swimmers at a time. We each had 3 or more opportunities with these intelligent giants, and each time was more amazing than the one before. By the time I got out of the water after the third swim, dried off, and climbed to the top deck of the boat, I was overcome with emotion. I felt more peaceful than I've ever felt, and more grateful than I can convey. With the warm sun on my back and a gentle breeze on my face I surveyed the scene, 360 degrees around me. Swimmers in the water, their little snorkels poking out -- a small clump of fragile humans in awe and wonder -- the whales occasionally surfacing to exhale, the baby swimming happily, sometimes getting bursts of energy, spy-hopping and breaching, all 12 feet and 2 tons of her brand-new gangly baby self making quite a show. The scenery all around me was rich greens and gemstone blues, with distant sailboats enjoying the perfect day, their white sails a gentle slant; the sky clear blue with white puffy clouds. Tears of joy and a feeling of ultimate happiness filled me ... you see, it's almost impossible to write about. It was simply the best of everything. It was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream for Allan, who had 4 swims with the whales and got lots of pictures -- even a few of the calf suckling, which was not easy considering she's huge, and Allan had to drop a fair bit under the surface to get the shot from below.

After they finally moved off enough to let us know they'd had enough, the group (we totaled 14 today) and the Captain all agreed to head off to the reef on the southeast side of the Vava'u group, where rumor had it the capsized 57-foot catamaran had finally made landfall. (See next blurb.) As we sped off, the calf breached repeatedly, and then the mother fin-slapped the water at least 15 times, making huge splashes that we could see all the way until we were out of sight. It was as if they were bidding us farewell with the best enthusiasm they could display. And maybe mom was saying, "Thanks for babysitting!"

We are all connected on this Earth, and our rich experience yesterday now requires something from us: we'll learn more about the whales, about the cruel and illegal whaling that is still going on today around the world, and about how these gentle, ancient creatures can continue to be protected and appreciated. We were given an incredible gift, and now we all agree: we need to pay it forward.

Allan is working on a photo gallery that includes some of the amazing photos we got with my mom's Sea Life camera, as well as pictures from Gordon on Serenity, Gloria on Paikea Mist, and Trish on Curious. Also, Gloria has written a beautiful blog on our experience, and at the risk of losing my faithful readership to her incredible writing, I encourage you to check it out: www.sailblogs.com/member/paikeamist