July 24, 2025 – Thursday
The morning unfolded with the mountains wrapped in misty silence, their peaks veiled in fog like a secret yet to be told. Yet on the water, the air was clear—glassy and still—as we eased out of Mole Bay.
Two cruise ships crossed our path, heading north to Juneau, their bright decks slipping past like moving cities. Southbound, our course carried us through a corridor of distant magic: humpback whales, surfacing in slow arcs, teasing the sky before returning to the deep.
And then—something extraordinary.
Years ago, I watched a television commercial for the Pacific Life Insurance Company that featured a humpback whale vaulting from the ocean, spiraling mid-air, then landing with a splash on its back. I never imagined I’d see that cinematic flourish play out in real life. But there it was. Not once, not twice—but thirteen times, as if the whales had choreographed the performance just for us. They rose and turned and crashed back into the sea in exuberant defiance of gravity.
By late afternoon, the skies had cleared and the light returned, brushing the day with new clarity. What began in muted tones ended in brilliance, as if the whales themselves had summoned the sun. We ended the day cradled in the stillness of Portage Bay, where the water was smooth as silk, the hills soft with light, and all around us was solitude.
