It has all been a bit back to front this morning," says Coast XP's marine ecologist, Jane McPhee-Frew, as we near the end of our whale watching tour out of Newcastle harbour.
After an exciting start, during which we spend 20 minutes in the company of at least five large humpbacks, not far outside the harbour, we have been chasing sploshes for over an hour now, heading as far south as Redhead Bluff, hoping for more whale action.
At times like this it is hard not to think those wily whales are playing games with us. Are they perhaps publicity shy, diving deep to avoid the long lenses and camera phones of we boat-borne paparazzi?
"No photos please," I imagine a spokeswhale announcing, "please respect our privacy and our right to a peaceful migration".
On the other hand, as I have recently witnessed while having a morning coffee at Merewether Surfhouse, some whales are not towing the line, frolicking in full view, ridiculously close to shore.
This year's El Nino weather pattern is partly responsible for that, as our guide McPhee-Frew explains, pushing the strong Southern current closer to land and the whales nearer to the coast.
It makes sense, when you are journeying thousands of kilometres from the krill-rich waters of Antarctica to the warmer seas off north-eastern Australia, why make progress harder by swimming against the flow?
whale watching season kicks off with a blast
Over the last hour, I have also wondered whether these ancient creatures of the deep might be trying to teach us a lesson?
"Put down your phones, people," I imagine them bidding us, through a haunting underwater song, "you'll never experience anything properly if all you care about is recording it on your device".
Granted, they need a more skilled lyricist. However, it's a potentially salient message from one species, once nearly hunted to extinction, partly for their rich oil, used to power nineteenth century lighting, to another, on the brink of it, only a century later, thanks to our insatiable lust for fuel and other raw materials.
Ironically, as I rush to post my "magnificent" whale photographs to Instagram, I find that the combination of zooming in on my iPhone and the slight ocean swell, has turned them all into what look like rather fetching oil paintings.
After multiple whale watching tours over the years, in places as far and wide as Iceland (for minkes), off Vancouver (for Orcas), and off Portland in Victoria where I caught glimpses of a 30-metre long Blue whale, and calf, from a helicopter, as well as Southern Rights, I should know better by now. Pack a proper camera with a long lens, and a stabiliser.
Houseboating on Lake Macquarie
In the past I have equated whale watching with trainspotting. You spend hours waiting for a prized asset to pull into town only to see it pull away out of sight in minutes. Or like being a digger in the trenches during World War 1, with long periods waiting for something to happen, interrupted by frantic activity.
Today, it feels like the current Ashes cricket series. There has been lots of early excitement - runs or wickets on the board as it were - followed by an inevitable lull, during which I remain convinced, because of the drama already witnessed, that something memorable is bound to occur.
Our guide Jane McPhee-Frew sensibly warns us about this, at the beginning:
"Whale watching is a bit like superannuation," she says, "past performance is not an indication of future returns."
"If you see something, say something," she adds, "I know that's meant to be about terrorism, but it works equally well for whale watching."
Marine biologist McPhee-Frew's knowledgeable patter is alone good enough reason to take this tour. It is probably just as compelling if Coast Xp's founder Dominic May takes the helm, as he often does.
This time last year, May was guiding a whale encounter experience, aboard the same inflatable tour boat, the Atmos, when he heard a mayday call from the Ellie-K, a local fishing vessel, off the Newcastle coast.
Realising that they were nearby, albeit with a boat full of 20 passengers, and only one other crew member, May rushed to the aid of the stricken fishing trawler.
"I told them as politely as possible we'd be taking a detour," he said at the time.
Arriving just 60 seconds before it sank, the Atmos rescued three fishermen and the family dog from the trawler, passengers watching on as, moments later, it disappeared under the ocean.
That rescue is one reason, along with his contribution to local tourism and the city's post-pandemic economic recovery, that May was named Newcastle's Young Citizen of the Year, for 2023.
So, while we are grateful that our desire for drama remains less fulfilled than that today, there is no doubt that being on the Atmos, is a great asset in our benign, modern-day hunt for whales. Custom-built for Coast XP in Brisbane, the eco-friendly 10.6-metre inflatable is speedy and very manoeuvrable and allows for 360-degree sightseeing,
Indeed, it is soon after emerging from the harbour at the beginning of our 9am, mid-July tour, my 13-year-old daughter, Freya, excitedly turns to me and exclaims:
"I don't know where to look!"
After already dwelling close to three seals basking on Nobbys breakwater, we have two pods of whales, at least five individuals all told, on either side of the Atmos.
It is thrilling, and when one whale explodes half out of the ocean and crashes back down in a mass of white froth and spray, even this seasoned whale watching hack lets out an involuntary whoop.
During the spectacle, McPhee-Frew, who is doing a PHD on Eastern Australia's Orcas, and has travelled the world, from Antarctica to the High Arctic, studying whales and guiding, disseminates information about the humpbacks.
"Humpbacks can grow to 16-18 metres long and weigh up to 50 tonnes," she tells us, "and females grow the largest, and have very big babies - their calves weigh up to 2 tonnes at birth!"
"Australian humpbacks are mainly black with a white underbelly, like border collies," she adds, "they have the most beautiful tails among all whales, often white outlined by black. These are distinct markings that help us identify individuals."
She goes on to describe how, in Antarctic waters, humpbacks hunt krill co-operatively, with two or more whales diving deep to push up swarms of the crustacean toward their comrades' gaping mouths.
Like teenagers, they also tend to travel in "unstable pods, always changing who they hang out with," she says, "and have different strategies in their migration. Some go early and some arrive late, it's more like a triple migration, whales cross over going north and south."
Unfortunately, it is not long before we find ourselves in the path of another even more mammoth sight out at sea, an outgoing coal ship, and have to move.
"Happy migration, whales!" says McPhee-Frew, as we head south, for what turns out to be a fruitless hiatus at sea.
With humpback numbers increasing at a rate of 10 per cent a year and around 35,000 individuals now travelling along the coast, every season, it feels a tad personal when we don't see another whale for over an hour.
As time draws on and we begin to track back to base, however, we spot a splash, not far off Bar Beach.
McPhee-Frew quickly has the Atmos in prime position, and, for the next 10 minutes we are treated to an exuberant show of tail slapping by a large humpback.
It's every bit as enthralling as watching Mitch Marsh or Ben Stokes flail about them during the current Ashes series, with these moments that we spend with the whale providing just as dramatic a denouement as each Test match has so far provided.
Coast XP runs daily, 2-hour whale watching encounter tours, between June and November. They depart from Honeysuckle foreshore, close to the Rydges Hotel, and cost $125 adults, $99 children (3-12). They are offering readers 10% off Encounter Tours this season, using the code "HERALD10". See coastxp.com
The writer was a guest of Coast XP.
