Bubbles! Bubbles! Bubbles! (Or, “Krillin’ & Chillin’”)

After our last landing at Neko Harbour, it seemed as though the trip was over.  Oh, there was one more stop to “look for whales” in Dallmann Bay, but I figured we would see one or two off in the distance, and call it a trip.

There was an ice cream and champagne party on the bow, which was good fun.  (I skipped the champagne, not wanting to need a late afternoon nap.  But I had an extra scoop of ice cream, so it was a real party after all.) As I expected, we saw a few whales off in the distance, and it was good and all, but. . .you know, not what I had hoped for.

I was the last person on the bow.  It was quite cold, and yet I held out hope for more whales.  Have you realized I’m just a bit crazy?  And then the captain hit whale nirvana.

Suddenly, just as I was about to give up, there were multiple pods of two, three, four whales in feeding frenzy.  It was a krill and chill afternoon for the whales.

The whales gave us two huge clues when they were about to surface.  First, there were swirling pools of green bubbles – the technique is known as bubble net feeding, and then the seabirds, such as the famed Southern Fulmar, the Cape Petrel (very cool wing markings), and the Kelp Gull, would watch for the bubble feeding and join the party, scooping up some of the krill the whales forced to the surface.

It’s like the birds have crashed a tailgate party they weren’t invited to.  Instead of “Beer?  You got beer?  I love beer!” it’s more “Krill?  You got krill?  I love krill!”  And the whales say, “oh, what the heck, we got plenty.”

The whales kept bubble net feeding, and did so very close to the boat.  And it wasn’t just the three or four who were closest to the ship –look into the distance and there were multiple bubble net feedings going on, with multiple whales in each whale gang.  Instead of West Side Story, it was West Antarctica Story.  Instead of the Sharks versus the Jets, it was the Whales and the. . .Whales.  (Okay, Glen, analogy breaking down rapidly. . .move on.)

With my camera on the “sports” setting, I was firing off 10-12 photos with the push of the shutter button.  And taking the photos that way provided an amazing sequence of the fluking. . .the raising of the tail to the dive down.

We probably watched this go on for a good (no, great) two hours.  I took over 1400 whale photos (deleted some, although most shots were good).

Once we got the hang of it, everyone joined the naturalists/pro photogs in yelling, “Bubbles, Bubbles, Bubbles” to orient everyone.  We almost all missed the one full breach (there was action on the port side as the breach happened on the bow), but there were plenty of times we saw the head of the whale, the clearing snort of expelled gunk, the middle, and then the full fluke (the tail going up and back in).  Once I saw a triple fluke, and I also got a great photo of a double fluke.

It’s hard to say how many times they bubble net fed, but I guessing it was over 50 (including other groups of whales a bit further off).

There were a number of times the whales fed right next to the boat!  Right there.  Sometimes I had the zoom lenses dialed too high to get a good shot, because the whales were so close.  One time, even from the bow deck, the whales were so close to the boat that I could see them rising from the (relative) deep, clearly visible in the murky water before breaking the surface.

The way we ran from port to bow to starboard side of the ship, it’s a wonder it didn’t tip over!  (Note to those thinking of doing a Nat Geo trip, the boat was never in danger of tipping -- it's a writing technique thingie.)  The sound of whales clearing and shutters clicking were nearly all that we heard.  With the exception, of course, of “Bubbles! Bubbles! Bubbles!”

(Life advice – if you are ever on a ship in Antarctica, and you hear, “Bubbles, Bubbles, Bubbles” run toward that sound and prepare to be amazed.)

What power.  What grace.  What a show of nature.

And this was all happening in a bay surrounded by snow sculpted mountains, with an iceberg at one end that looked like the iconic (there’s that word again!) shells of the Sydney Opera House, and, in the distance, an Argentinian resupply freighter strangely hanging around.

Everyone was jubilant – the naturalists, the photogs, and the captain all said they had never seen a whale frenzy like this in Antarctica before.  It was an unforgettable experience.  In New Zealand in September we got to see one sperm whale hang at the surface for ten minutes to recharge before diving down 1,000 meters.  These were many, many short lived dives by multiple humpbacks.  Wow.

Do you remember what Jack Buck said after an injured Kirk Gibson hit the stunning, game-winning home run off Dennis Eckersley in the 1988 World Series?  Of course you do – Buck said, “I don’t believe what I just saw.”  That’s what I thought of when this feeding frenzy came to an end and we steamed off toward the Drake Passage return.

I don’t believe what I just saw.