Another glimpse of polynesian paradise...from Mrs Offside:
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Showing posts with label Mrs Offside. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mrs Offside. Show all posts
Friday, 4 July 2008
Friday, 26 October 2007
God does exist. I've met him personally -- by Mrs Offside
This was one of those typical bright, sunny and peaceful mornings, where nothing could make you think of an extraordinary day.
Breakfast swallowed, I'm fighting hard with the literary difficulties (...) of the Software Help system I am so unbearably lucky to be translating. Maybe if I work hard enough I have my chances for the Goncourt.
Around 11am, the phone rings (rare enough around here to point it out). Because of the time difference, I already know it's not work related, which is a good enough reason to answer.
It's Laurent from the Diving Center. "No dives planned today", he says, "let's take the boat out and look for the whales".
I've caught a glimpse of them twice going diving, but never got a chance to see them close, so the help system does not weigh much in the balance.
We come out of the lagoon and head into the big blue, towards Temae, the north-east point of Moorea. During the first half-hour, not even the shadow of a humpback… but Moorea from the sea is pure enchantment, so eyes wide open, I just soak up the view.
Suddently, a big turmoil. A small boat has stopped a hundred meters from us and some typical spouts catch our attention. Gotcha! We have to move slowly if we don't want to scare them away. I am surprised to see people in the water and I do not understand why they have unfolded, underwater, what looks like a big white tarpaulin. I will need a few seconds to realise that what I see is in fact the white belly of a baby whale showing off, all happy to have company. Mum is watching from a few meters away.
I totally freak out. So do the whales, who swim away.
We will have to follow them for a good while because they don't seem inclined to stop for us. They swim fast, go deep down in the blue, but have to come back quite quickly because the baby whale cannot stay as long as Mum without breathing.
I eventually put on my mask and snorkel and immerse myself, without making too much noise nor movement, to have a closer look.
I leave the boat behind, and start kicking. They are roughly 50 meters away from me. I can see them perfectly if I keep my head over the water, but not underwater. I'm scared they'll go away now that I am closer than I have ever been. My heart is going crazy, the effort mixed with the adrenaline, it must be doing at least 120 p/m. I can hear my heart beat, and it's going fast... I kick, kick... I keep my head in the water.
Funny, I don't even realise that I am in the big blue, 4 000 meters of water below me, without diving suit nor air tank, in the middle of the Pacific, home of numerous species of sharks...
Blue, blue, and blue, that's all I see.
I kick harder.
And suddenly I see them, 10 meters away from me. The baby starts veering to the left to turn around his mother, white belly offered...
My heart jumps up to 200 p/m, a little more effort and I'm dead.
I feel small and ridiculous, insignificant and negligible compared to this huge and powerful mass, so graceful it leaves you breathless.
The mother moves in the "torpedo" position, head down, belly facing me. She goes down and disappears into the blue in a few seconds. I expect the baby to follow and keep staring at him, thinking he will shortly disappear too.
Not at all.
He finishes his 360° bend, turns himself into a high speed train and rushes at... me.
I suppose he perfectly saw me, but in doubt, I start kicking backwards, trying to move away in an instinctive, totally useless reflex of survival. He swims a million times faster than I do.
He passes by, less than a meter from me, shaking his fins, offering his white belly for a rub I cannot provide as I am totally petrified. I swear I felt my heart stop.
He is like an excited puppy, and obviously wants to play as he goes for another spin, faster than ever. Again, he passes by, less than a meter from me. Calming down my panic attack, I take the time to examine him, he must be 6 to 7 meters long, all grey and white.
It all happened in a blink, but I think I remember a glint of amusement in his left eye (big as a saucer) or maybe I just dreamt it.
I come out of my state of shock and stretch my arm trying to touch him. It’s already too late...
He turned around and went back to his mother, who had just reemerged from the depths. With just a few swishes of the tail, they are out of range.
Everything lasted a 3 minute eternity.
I climbed back up in the boat, all particles of my body in great agitation.
And like a typical girl...
I burst into tears.
Breakfast swallowed, I'm fighting hard with the literary difficulties (...) of the Software Help system I am so unbearably lucky to be translating. Maybe if I work hard enough I have my chances for the Goncourt.
Around 11am, the phone rings (rare enough around here to point it out). Because of the time difference, I already know it's not work related, which is a good enough reason to answer.
It's Laurent from the Diving Center. "No dives planned today", he says, "let's take the boat out and look for the whales".
I've caught a glimpse of them twice going diving, but never got a chance to see them close, so the help system does not weigh much in the balance.
We come out of the lagoon and head into the big blue, towards Temae, the north-east point of Moorea. During the first half-hour, not even the shadow of a humpback… but Moorea from the sea is pure enchantment, so eyes wide open, I just soak up the view.
Suddently, a big turmoil. A small boat has stopped a hundred meters from us and some typical spouts catch our attention. Gotcha! We have to move slowly if we don't want to scare them away. I am surprised to see people in the water and I do not understand why they have unfolded, underwater, what looks like a big white tarpaulin. I will need a few seconds to realise that what I see is in fact the white belly of a baby whale showing off, all happy to have company. Mum is watching from a few meters away.
I totally freak out. So do the whales, who swim away.
We will have to follow them for a good while because they don't seem inclined to stop for us. They swim fast, go deep down in the blue, but have to come back quite quickly because the baby whale cannot stay as long as Mum without breathing.
I eventually put on my mask and snorkel and immerse myself, without making too much noise nor movement, to have a closer look.
I leave the boat behind, and start kicking. They are roughly 50 meters away from me. I can see them perfectly if I keep my head over the water, but not underwater. I'm scared they'll go away now that I am closer than I have ever been. My heart is going crazy, the effort mixed with the adrenaline, it must be doing at least 120 p/m. I can hear my heart beat, and it's going fast... I kick, kick... I keep my head in the water.
Funny, I don't even realise that I am in the big blue, 4 000 meters of water below me, without diving suit nor air tank, in the middle of the Pacific, home of numerous species of sharks...
Blue, blue, and blue, that's all I see.
I kick harder.
And suddenly I see them, 10 meters away from me. The baby starts veering to the left to turn around his mother, white belly offered...
My heart jumps up to 200 p/m, a little more effort and I'm dead.
I feel small and ridiculous, insignificant and negligible compared to this huge and powerful mass, so graceful it leaves you breathless.
The mother moves in the "torpedo" position, head down, belly facing me. She goes down and disappears into the blue in a few seconds. I expect the baby to follow and keep staring at him, thinking he will shortly disappear too.
Not at all.
He finishes his 360° bend, turns himself into a high speed train and rushes at... me.
I suppose he perfectly saw me, but in doubt, I start kicking backwards, trying to move away in an instinctive, totally useless reflex of survival. He swims a million times faster than I do.
He passes by, less than a meter from me, shaking his fins, offering his white belly for a rub I cannot provide as I am totally petrified. I swear I felt my heart stop.
He is like an excited puppy, and obviously wants to play as he goes for another spin, faster than ever. Again, he passes by, less than a meter from me. Calming down my panic attack, I take the time to examine him, he must be 6 to 7 meters long, all grey and white.
It all happened in a blink, but I think I remember a glint of amusement in his left eye (big as a saucer) or maybe I just dreamt it.
I come out of my state of shock and stretch my arm trying to touch him. It’s already too late...
He turned around and went back to his mother, who had just reemerged from the depths. With just a few swishes of the tail, they are out of range.
Everything lasted a 3 minute eternity.
I climbed back up in the boat, all particles of my body in great agitation.
And like a typical girl...
I burst into tears.
