It was still
dark when I woke this morning.
The sun rises
late on the Island.
So too do I.
I could tell
that a storm was brewing just from the heaviness in the air. There was the
cliché calmness and as I stood on my little balcony sipping the first of my
many coffees for the day I scanned the horizon.
The fulminations
I was seeking soon appeared and as dawn broke I heard the first rumblings of
the tempest.
I love the
storms of Singapore. Not just because they provide relief from the heat, but
also because they are often spectacular and loud. Sheet lightning illuminates
the black skies and the clouds look like dark bruises.
They are
beautiful.
They really
are.
When the wind
picked up and rain started to fall I retreated inside and poured myself a
second coffee. Large droplets soon turned to sheets and my windows steamed up.
I was entranced and somewhat mesmerized by the water that ran down the glass
panels of my window and for a trice my memory flashed back to a magic moment in
another storm in another place.
A long time
ago.
My
retrospection took me back to a place called Fraser Island in Queensland – in
my homeland of Australia. I was visiting my friend Philip who had only just graduated
as a marine biologist and was working in a town called Hervey Bay. His job was
to study one of the great wonders of the natural world – the annual migration
of the humpbacked whales.
Philip was
living the dream.
It was late in
winter in Queensland and within an hour of my arrival in Hervey Bay we were out
on the water in Phillip’s boat.
I was very
excited.
We didn’t have
to wait long. Still in sight of land and only minutes after we dropped anchor
the first of the whales appeared. It broke water less than a hundred meters
from us and I gasped out loud in both surprise and delight.
I remember
looking at Phillip and seeing his exultation at my joy.
He was grinning
from ear to ear.
The enormity of
the majestic creature and the moment made me laugh out loud and I think I may
have clapped my hands in jubilance. Before too long another whale appeared and
then another – and then a mother with her calf.
We were
surrounded.
The whales
threw themselves in the air and Phillip told me that they were playing and were
showing off. At one point one of the whales came so close to the boat that if I
reached out I could have touched it.
I recall
locking eyes with the whale and seeing great intelligence and wisdom there. I
remember that moment as if it were yesterday.
These are
sentient animals that are as curious of us as we are of them.
We just bobbed
about on the water for what might have been hours relishing the animals as they
played around us. The sky was blue when we ventured out and so transfixed was I
by the sight that I didn’t notice the storm clouds that had gathered and were
sweeping towards us. The sudden calmness that precedes a storm descended abruptly
– although we could see the squalls rapidly approaching.
I think sensing
that we had to return to shore - one by one the whales descended to the depths
and I felt an immediate and profound sense of loss.
I remember
Phillip smiling knowingly at me at that moment and he put his arm around my
shoulder to give me some comfort. The ocean was still then and it was very
quiet. When the first streaks of lightning appeared in the sky and a dull boom
echoed my friend moved to the front of the boat where I thought he was drawing
the anchor.
He wasn’t
though.
He dropped a
boom into the water and passed me some headphones – then he put some on
himself. The sound I heard was unlike anything I had ever heard before. It was
mournful and beautiful and haunting all at the same time. It was a canticle and
paean that was as close to a sense of pure spirituality that I have ever
experienced.
I could not
help but to well up.
It was whale
song.
Before too long
the wind whipped up and the skies grew dark and we became drenched with the
downpour. Thunder clapped noisily and the boat rocked wildly as we pulled up
anchor.
It was a wild
ride back to shore.
As I write this
now I can vividly remember that day when the whales danced and played and then
sang for us when the storm swept in.
I doubt that I
will ever forget it.
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