![]() ![]() We were only starting to move around again, packing our gear into the kayaks, when we heard the first huff of a blowhole, not far offshore. We were on earth - finally, really on earth. To me, it felt like those scenes of astronauts who, having finally rattled free of the earth’s atmosphere, slip into the stillness of space. ![]() It was a familiar phenomenon for Jon from the start of all his trips: a moment that people instinctually paused to soak in. As the boat that delivered us vanished, the drone of its engine dampening into a murmur and then finally trailing off, it became unthinkably quiet on the beach, and the largeness and strangeness of our surroundings were suddenly apparent. Jon was working as a sea-kayaking guide that summer in Glacier Bay National Park, and he had invited us up for a seven-day excursion during his week off. ![]() Jon, Dave and I had just been dropped off on a remote Alaskan shoreline, an hour and a half by boat from the closest speck of a town. The whale sighting happened right away, minutes into Day 1. ![]()
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