I’ve discovered a guideline for my photography lately: it’s not all about what you intend to photograph. The most interesting pictures may well come from the unexpected or the generally unseen.
It turns out that applies to more than just photography. My mom and I headed out on our annual whale watching trip from Bar Harbor yesterday on the Bar Harbor Whale Watch Company‘s Friendship V. It was a beautiful day for landlubbers, but as soon as we drove down to the dock we could see the fog planted firmly atop the cold Gulf of Maine waters. Anyone who had done a similar trip in the past (including the ship’s captain) knew that the chance of actually seeing a whale was next to none. Most whales are discovered from a distant blow on the horizon, and in yesterday’s fog there was little or no chance of seeing a whale in the distance.
For me it’s not about seeing whales anymore; we’ve taken at least a dozen trips out to that region of the ocean, and I’ve seen my share of Sonograms and Siphons. The goal is to move into the vast expanse that is the Gulf of Maine, cruising at thirty miles an hour over rollercoaster-like swells until you reach a destination dozens of miles offshore. Yesterday’s trip had a little extra magic: as the boat idled in the offshore water, we all sat silent, listening for the sound of a spout from a whale. The only sounds we could hear were the waves passing and the rhythmic foghorn from a close but not yet visible Mount Desert Rock. The crew members closed their eyes and listened for the familiar mammalian sound. I closed my eyes and just listened to the ocean. I was experiencing a dream, a soundscape I’d tried to replicate hundreds of times in the past.
While out at sea I took a picture of two of the ship’s crew members, Kaitlyn and Laura. I’ve found that I enjoy taking pictures that tell a story, even if the story isn’t visible directly through the picture. Kaitlyn and Laura both study whales and were showing the ship’s passengers how whales are tagged for tracking purposes. In the background is Mount Desert Rock, a remote island 26 miles offshore used primarily as a research base by Bar Harbor-based Allied Whale. Both Kaitlyn and Laura have spent time living on the island for an opportunity to further study their passion.
On the way back to land I took some time to speak with Laura Kennedy, a seabird researcher on the ship who has the rare combination of being from Oklahoma (bonus points) and a UMaine graduate student (mega bonus points). She showed me how the GPS-linked tracking software on her laptop worked and explained what sort of data she hoped to cull from her research. She told me how much she loved what she did as she yelled over the deafening offshore winds while surveying the water for avian life, but her explanation was no match for the smile and tone she used as she spoke.
You may think that a whale watching trip with no whale sightings is a failure. I couldn’t disagree more. The intent of something you do isn’t always what’s most valuable; there’s more as you go deeper.