Listing Through Life

eschrichtius robustus

Wednesday, May 7, 2008 — 4:51 pm

Cape Meares State Scenic Viewpoint, Oregon — Pacific Ocean

I’ve always wanted to see a whale. I’ve never even been picky about what kind of whale. I’ve just wanted to see a whale. If I had a list of things I want to do before I die, see a whale would have been number 2 (after going up in a hot-air balloon — although seeing a whale in a hot-air balloon would be even better).

When my sister and I planned to spend a day on the coast, the first thing I did was look on the Internet to find out my chances of seeing a whale. They weren’t good. Gray Whales migrate along the Oregon Coast and can often be seen from shore, but the season is supposed to be in March and April — although scattered individuals are sometimes seen later. Even during the peak season, there’s no guarantee that one will be spotted. But all day long, I took wistful looks out to sea.

We were standing on the cliff above the ocean, looking south toward Three Arch Rocks. I was basking in the enjoyment of Steller’s Sea Lions and Western Grebe when suddenly, right where the grebe had been swimming, there was a whale. See that photo on the right? Look at it and imagine a 15-foot long gray mound with light gray splotches on it. I didn’t see the whole whale, just a rounded part of its back. I also saw the blow-hole with a little spray coming out and heard a whooshing sound.

I screamed “There’s a whale.” The others looked where I pointed, but the moment was gone and so was the whale. But maybe a minute later, my sister yelled and pointed. It, or another one, had surfaced in almost the exact same place. We scrambled with our camera, but weren’t fast enough. At least all three of us had seen it.

We were standing there reveling in our joy when a guy walked up. He struck up a conversation with us. Turns out he works in the human resources department of the lumbering company that owns most of the peninsula we were standing on. He said we were very lucky to see a whale that late in the year. He chatted with us for about 15 minutes and was still around when we spotted a couple spouts of spray far out off the point. We didn’t see the whales that were making them, but we saw the spouts.

Because I didn’t get a photo of the whale itself, I took a picture of the sign that was posted by the lighthouse.

Number two on my list, if I had a list, of things I want to do before I die is now “see another whale.” That was cool. And number three would be “have your camera ready, you idiot.”

aechmophorus (from aikhme, spear, and phero, bearing) occidentalis (to fall, as the sun in the west, hence, western)

Wednesday, May 7, 2008 — 4:49 pm

Cape Meares State Scenic Viewpoint, Oregon — Pacific Ocean

The day was winding down. We’d gotten up early on Tuesday and had a full day. We’d gotten up early again this morning and had another full day. There wasn’t really any other place we wanted to see that was close enough to get to in the time remaining. So we just relaxed on the path overlooking the ocean, gazing through my spotting scope at the Steller’s Sea Lions on Three Arch Rocks and enjoying the scenery. The tour from the lighthouse had left, so we had the place to ourselves.

The scene was active. Way down below I could see birds swimming or flying. I spotted a Red-necked Grebe, a bird I’d only seen twice before, and then in the same area, a Western Grebe, a lifer. Here’s my view:

The Western Grebe is the bottom bird. The other one is a Common Murre doing a little dance. I can’t tell you much about what the grebe was doing because I was very shortly distracted by another sight (next post).

But two days later, I discovered 10 or 12 Western Grebes floating in the Columbia River right in front of my hotel.

Here’s a close-up.

eumetopias jubatus

Wednesday, May 7, 2008 — 4:41 pm

Cape Meares State Scenic Viewpoint, Oregon — Three Arch Rocks — Pacific Ocean

So it was like this. The lighthouse was tiny and we had to split into two groups to go up the tower. We were in the first group. When we came down and re-entered the gift shop, we decided we’d horned in long enough. We thanked the rangers for allowing us to join the tour and walked outside.

Just south of Cape Meares, several rocks jut out of the ocean. Three of them have arches in them, and so are cleverly called Three Arch Rocks. I stopped on the path that runs along the top of the cliff and scoped the area, still hoping (but not expecting) to see sea lions.

But I did see them. On a low rock to the left of the three large ones, eight or ten sea lions were moving about. They were about a mile away, but through my spotting scope, I could get a pretty good look. I saw several more arrive and climb up onto the rock. I saw two, presumably young males, fighting and, on another larger rock to the left, I could see the head of a large male.

When the group came out of the lighthouse, I let them all look through my scope. The ranger who had told us we couldn’t see them there took a look and misidentified them as California Sea Lions (which couldn’t be because only male California Sea Lions make it north to the Oregon Coast and there were many females in the group I was looking at).

Here’s a bit of the above photograph zoomed to a ridiculous extreme.

I could see them much better than that through my scope. I tried to take a picture by holding my camera up to my scope and came up with this:

Not very satisfactory, but it beats not seeing them at all. I was very glad I’d brought my scope. I debated with myself before the trip. I didn’t want to lose it or break it, and it is heavy. In fact, on the plane ride out, my luggage was over the 50-pound limit and I had to take several books out of my checked back and add them to my already heavy carry-on bag.  But it was worth it.