Monday, February 7, 2011

Steel Beach

1/20/11
Whales. I mean, 30'-50' long, black, tail slapping, spout blowing whales. Of all the things on this voyage I didn't expect to see, but experienced nonetheless, this one takes the cake. Somewhere between Maui and Lanai we surfaced and came to a stop. The Captain (actually a Commander in rank, but it is his ship) announced over the communication system that the seas were a little rough, so men could go topside in a few minutes and make cell phone calls, but swimming was not allowed until the ship's divers made an assessment. I never doubted for a moment that the swim call was going to happen, and it did after about 5 minutes. While I did have some shorts, I took one look at the frenzied sailors thrashing in the water, trying to play King of the Submarine and throw each other off the boat, and figured it would be best to play the well-mannered engineer. Hurting or getting hurt by sailors, accidental or not, is not good for relations between the Navy and its contractors. Accordingly, I soaked in some sun and called Wifey. So good to hear her voice and get a positive report of happenings back home!
That's when the whales arrived (it was only well after my return to shore that I determined they were humpback whales). They lazily breached the surface, occasionally spouting off air, to the starboard side of the ship at least 200 yards away. This while I was on the phone, so I got to describe it to my wife as it happened. After I hung up, the whales circled the boat a few times, spiraling nearer. Their curved black bodies slowly arched over the water's surface, with only the sight of the stubby dorsal fin indicating that there would ever be an end to the beast. There was a pair of the brutes, and they easily came within 30 yards as the took turns spouting, now circling to the port side of the ship. The shouting, swimming, and general horseplay of the sailors did not disturb the whales in the slightest, which was remarkable. Many of the crew were trying to photograph or video the event, and the whales seemed to make great sport of surfacing when everybody had just lowered and turned off their camera. After 25-30 minutes, the whales slowly began moving away, lumbering off to the port side of the ship. As a final display, when they had reached a distance of 200-300 yards, the whales began to finish each breach of the surface with a mighty tail slap. I said to myself "I think you're gonna need a bigger boat."
Even if there were no whales, the scene would have been breathtaking. The nearest island (Maui, I reckon) was lush and green with soaring slopes rising nearly straight up from the ocean. The mountains rippled with valleys, and even richer land nestled in these nooks Along a thin strip of flat coast a few small towns clung precariously, unable to build any meaningful distance up the slopes, yet unwilling to surrender to the ocean below. A small island nearby (Kahoolawe or Lanai, not sure) consisted of a single peak, and it was perfectly wreathed by cloud. Only the highest and lowest elevations were in view, the clouds obscured the mighty waist of the hill.
The water was blue. And, sweet sassy molassey, was it ever still. It was obvious to me that the Captain was just messing with the crew, building the suspense for them, making the swim call an even more special event through sweet anticipation. As a 32 year old parent, I also spotted an example of this earlier in the week. The crew had been doing drills for days, preparing for a very major inspection. On Thursday, there were a crushing 5 major drills scheduled (they take about an hour apiece, plus there is a meeting afterward). After completing the fourth drill, the fifth was abruptly cancelled for reasons of great performance and exhaustion on the part of the sailors. I knew darn well the Cap'n never intended to conduct the fifth drill, just like I don't intend to actually implement The Worst Case Scenario with my children. This is one way a man can motivate 120 young men going on four hours of sleep nightly. In the same way, it was determined that a $2.5 billion warship can spare an hour to keep its crew in peak operating condition.

1 comment:

Mary said...

Cool! I understood that post! And I am jealous of that moment! How awesome!