The Early Years: Cape Ann and the Thrill of Discovery
For years I chased humpback whales up and down the New England coast. This was no small feat for someone with a tendency toward seasickness, but the call of the ocean—and the promise of seeing those magnificent creatures—was stronger than my stomach. One of my earliest and most unforgettable trips was out of Gloucester, heading toward Stellwagen Bank. I was new to Massachusetts then, freshly transplanted from New York and convinced I wouldn’t be here long. So I crammed every adventure I could into those first months.
Now, nearly fifty years later, I’m still here. And that Cape Ann whale watch remains one of the highlights of my early Massachusetts life.
That day, we found ourselves surrounded by humpbacks bubble‑net feeding—so close to the boat you felt like you could reach out and touch them. (We didn’t, of course.) For years afterward, people insisted that New England humpbacks don’t bubble‑net feed. I always love when nature proves the experts wrong. It’s a reminder of how much we’ve learned—and how much we’re still learning.
Boston and Plymouth: Rituals on the Water
I tried a few whale watches out of Boston next. Bigger boats, higher decks, great views—fun, but nothing quite matched the raw magic of that Cape Ann trip.
Eventually I migrated south to Plymouth and became a regular on Captain John’s Boats. Those summer trips became a ritual. It was on one of those outings that I photographed my first breaching whale—a moment that still ranks among my favorite memories.
Hawaii: The Heart’s Home
My whale watching didn’t stop at New England. I found the home of my heart in Hawaii and made annual February trips for years. February is peak migration season, and I often watched whales right from the breakfast table.
I joined the Pacific Whale Foundation and went on their photography expeditions. That’s where I captured my first baby‑whale breach and listened to whale songs through hydrophones dropped over the side of the boat. Pure magic.
It’s just a baby
Alaska: Cold, Raw, and Unforgettable
Then there was Alaska—nothing warm or tropical about that trip. It was cold, wet, raw, and absolutely worth it. The boat was smaller, the whales cruised close to the surface, and we always knew where to look when we heard the whoosh of their breath.
Alaska offers something New England and Hawaii don’t: variety. Humpbacks, orcas, gray whales, belugas—and if luck is really on your side, maybe even a narwhal or a sperm whale. Spring can be beautiful there, but in 2013 we went in May, which turned out to be too early for sunshine. My advice? Aim for June or later.
Why It Matters
No matter where you go—New England, Hawaii, Alaska—whales are magnificent creatures deserving of every conservation effort we can muster. Their importance is so universal that even the Star Trek universe built a whole movie around saving them. (Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, for fellow fans.)
If the Federation thinks whales are worth saving, who am I to argue?
Live long and prosper.
According to some Bigfoot enthusiasts, these inverted trees aren’t just random oddities—they’re territorial markers. Picture it: a massive creature yanking a tree from the earth and slamming it back down, roots skyward, as a way of saying, “This is my turf.”
And here’s the kicker: Chuck did it all with a broken jaw. Wildlife experts believe he sustained the injury during a mating-season brawl, but did that slow him down? Not one bite. He slurped, gnawed, and gorged his way to greatness, proving that nothing—not even a busted bite radius—could stop his rise to rotund royalty.
