WHALE WAYS
(…and what our mystical connections with them might be)

This one is a sidebar, as a time-out break from all those other worrisome events which keep swirling around us every day…and to write instead about certain events concerning a whale which happened almost thirty years ago…and…to take some of that time-out to ponder about whale ways, and what, if any, our mystical connections with them might be.

It all began when a young bull humpback whale wandered in from the Pacific Ocean into the waters of San Francisco Bay, back in October, 1985.

Moby Dick he wasn’t, but he was obviously curious about the Bay’s environment and intent on exploring it. We don’t why, except perhaps because he may have had some vestige of his species’ memory which recalled that this Bay had for millennia once been a regular pit-stop, so to speak, for the humpbacks’ annual migrations from the Gulf of Alaska down to the Sea of Cortes, at Baja California…long before humans began cluttering up the landscapes along its shores.

So, he very deliberately and methodically went about his business of checking out different parts of the Bay, completely oblivious to the frantic efforts the humans there made to herd him back to the oceanic world where they thought he properly belonged. The whale, however, was having none of it, and refused to cooperate in any way with such misguided human notions; and so, since he was neither sick nor disoriented, he just continued to ignore their attempts to interfere with his exploratory forays around the Bay. All of which drove the humans nuts. The media, of course, milked the situation for all it was worth, in print, on the radio, and on television, where all sorts of “experts” and assorted bobble-heads expounded fanciful explanations for his behavior. Before long, he was given a nickname –Humphrey-, a play on the “humpback” designation for his species of whale.

By now almost a week had passed and Humphrey had become the public’s darling, avidly checking out each day’s latest report about him, while frenzied paparazzi scrambled around to get any kind of shot of him they possibly could. Humphrey…had become more of a local celebrity than even the late Herb Caen.

Then, suddenly, he just disappeared, nowhere to be seen for a number of days. The experts now began to smugly explain this development by saying he had gotten tired of all the acoustic noises in the Bay (it happened to be Fleet Week at the time), so he had simply gone back to the relative peace and quiet of the Pacific Ocean.

Shortly thereafter, however, all those experts had egg all over their faces when Humphrey popped up in San Pablo Bay, went on into Sui Sun Bay, then reached the fringes of the Sacramento River Delta, off the shores of Rio Vista, spending several more days there just playfully cavorting in full view of its residents who, naturally, were delighted by it all, waving and cheering him on with his splashy performances. The Rio Vista folks became even more delighted with his presence when the media’s news about his latest escapade brought hordes of eager spectators to their town…thereby generating gratifying flows of business revenues from their presence (some years later, in gratitude, Rio Vista, erected a bronze statue of Humphrey right at the main viewing spot, to commemorate the event…it remains there to this day).

All of which brings us to the most dramatic part of this story. To everyone’s alarm and dismay Humphrey then continued moving up through the Delta’s waters, into a totally fresh water environment, reaching Shag Slough, just beyond the Liberty Island bridge, almost 40 miles away from the Gold Gate where he had first appeared a week earlier. Unfortunately, Shag Slough was a dead end, with Humphrey seemingly trapped there because it was quite narrow and not very deep, and because his size and bulk (some 40 tons) that made it very difficult for him to turn himself around. Worse yet, the pilings of Liberty Island Bridge only had one narrow gap through which he might get out of there again, if he could find it.

Frustrated by this confining space, and becoming more and more irritated by all the frantic humans who had gathered together a gaggle of small boats to try turning him around and shoo him back through that gap in those pilings, Humphrey turned belligerent, lashing out with his fins and great tail flukes to back them away. It was high drama indeed! Eventually, however, he figured things out for himself, eeled his way through that gap, and raced away back down the slough…with a flotilla of small boats in hot pursuit, full of humans banging away on trailing steel pipes in the water to create an acoustic “curtain” to keep him headed in the right direction.

They needn’t have bothered. Humphrey never slowed until he reached Angel Island in the north Bay, pausing only for a brief night’s rest there before racing on the next day for the Golden Gate…and the ocean. The last anyone saw of him was when, just as he passed under that bridge, he raised his great tail flukes in a high flip, as if to say…bye bye San Francisco (though some think because of what had happened to him during his visit, it really was more like a humpback’s equivalent of giving San Francisco the …Bird).

Well, if you think that’s the end of Humphrey’s story, you’re wrong. He returned several times, and his last foray into the South Bay was even more dramatic than his first visit. Over the years since then he’s also been occasionally spotted in the waters near the Farallons, apparently continuing to enjoy his cetacean life. Since whales are as long-lived as elephants on shore, the odds are he may still be out there today…somewhere.

Which brings us to a kind of post-script here because, some twenty-years two later, a female humpback and her calf also entered and cruised the Bay, causing even greater human excitement than with Humphrey’s visits, especially when they also not only went up into the Delta’s fresh waters, but actually went all the way up to Sacramento and its port, a good 100 miles away from the ocean, before coming back down again. If the media and the public had gone nuts with Humphrey, they went completely bananas over these two whales, which they quickly nicknamed…Delta and Dawn.

What really struck me about all these whales’ adventures and misadventures, however, was the way humans carried on in reaction to their visits here. By comparison, the whales seemed much more rational and stable, and the more I thought about it, the more determined I became to write something about that, that is, to try to explore what the whales’ perspectives of humans might be, which I did. Combining fact with fantasy I then published the original tongue-in-cheek version titled – The Humphrey Saga -. Later, after the Delta and Dawn episode, I eventually decided to revise and edit everything into a combined new version, as if it were covering the adventures of three generations of our whale friends.

Attached in annex is an original review about the early Humphrey version, along with some excerpts from both to give you an idea of what it all will be about. We will be setting up a special section on this site for it, where it will be downloadable at modest cost. Only the first 100 copies will be numbered and autographed. If you would like to reserve one of those copies please email : [email protected] and we’ll put you on the list for that.

Stay tuned.

CENTURION

A REVIEW OF THE ORIGNAL HUMPHREY SAGA (The Columbia Missourian)

“MOBY DICK…HE’S NOT!

There’s an almost mystical connection between whales and humans. So it’s not surprising that events like Humphrey’s several visits to the San Francisco Bay area, or the recent drama of two grey whales caught by the ice up in Alaska, should so stir the human psyche.

With the -Humphrey Saga-, Taylor explores that connection from an entirely different perspective…the whale’s.

Artfully transposing events he produces a whimsical and mildly satirical blend of fact with fantasy wherein we humans are put into our proper place by a very determined, swinging, cetacean hippy, experiencing vicissitudes similar to ours in his daily personal and professional life.

While this makes us break out into merry giggles, chuckles, and even a few guffaws, we’re also led to ponder about the impact our human hubris has on the oceanic environment in general, and marine mammals in particular. Yet, it’s all done with a very light touch, accompanied by hilarious pen and ink doodles as visual punch lines.

In the end, he brings us back to the real world, leaving us to wonder…do whales have mystical feelings about us? Perhaps, but in the meantime, we are left to revel in the fact that there is that connection.”

* * * * *

DATELINE : 5/10/07
FROM : Dawn Humpback TO : H.H. Sr.

SUBJECT : SFB Pit stop and whyso.

Hi Grandpa!

Guess what…Mom and I are here in that place you told me stories about. It’s just like I imagined it!
We had quite a trip coming up from Baja. First, we tried to stop off at that Carmel place – you know – where your pal was the major of it…. that Dirty Harry dude…. Who made you an honorary citizen, with offshore beach privileges, and all that. Well, sir, I gotta tell ya, things sure have changed there. Your old mayor pal was ditched a while back, and the new guy in charge isn’t into, or fond of, migrant whale folks like us coming in close to his beaches. So, when Mom and me came close to shore to rest for a spell, ’cause we were kinda beat (it’s a long haul up from Baja to Carmel, y’ know), he just ran us off, even though we told him we were your kinfolk. It was, like, so unfair!

So Mom decided we should head on up to the Farallons to try and hook up with you and the rest of the family there. But the weather turned nasty on us, with fog everywhere, and Mom got us lost (let’s face it…her navigatin’ skills aren’t too great to start with). Well, after what seemed like, forever, we found ourselves caught up in some kind of inflowing rip tide which dumped us right smack in the middle of San Francisco Bay. Imaging that! Pure dumb luck plopped us right there in the same place of your glory days all those years ago. It was way cool!

Anyway, Mom found us a nice quite spot near something called Angel Island (do you remember it?), so we could get a good snooze, and maybe catch some sardines or herring snacks as well. Mostly for her, ’cause she’s still nursing me….even though I’m a big kid now, and big enough to nibble on grown-up snacks now and then.

Grandpa, you were so right! This place is a real busy one, with lots of those weird boat things the humies play with zooming all over the place. Lucky for us the weather was still kinda nasty, so we did get some peace and quiet for a while. After just loafing around for a couple of days, Mom and me cruised around doing the tourist thing. We poked around that Sausalito place, then, went over to something called – Alcatraz – or some such. Booooring! Tried to talk Mom to go near that Fishermen’s Wharf place you were always crowing about, but Mom said it was a rough and trashy neighborhood, dangerous, and cluttered up with mangy panhandling sea lions. No place for righteous whale-folks like us. Pish! Sea lions…I ain’t scared of no stinkin’ sea lions! Mom is such a ….Mom!

Well, next day, while we were tracking a herd of herring, guess what….Mom got us lost….again! Next thing I knew we were floating in some strange kind of water. Yep, you guessed it, we were in that –fresh water – stuff, just like you told me about, Grandpa. It was so cool, even if it didn’t have any salt in it, and we had to keep moving all the time because, without that salt, it just didn’t have the float we’re used to. It did feel kind of icky, at first, but after a while it wasn’t so bad. Only thing I don’t like about it it’s so full of gunky stuff I can’t see a darn thing beyond a couple of feet past my nose.

Right now we’re near a place called Rio Vista. Wow! Do you know you’re still a real big celebrity there, Grandpa? Yep! They even have a monument there of you looking out over the water. How about that! And you were also right about the humies in these parts. Talk about weird. Holy mackerel! But they’re soooo darn friendly y’hardly care about that, and when they realized we were your kin….they went bananas! They’ve been lined up ten deep ever since on both sides of this river place we’re at, hootin’, hollerin’, wavin’ at us, and beggin’ to have their pictures taken with us. When we get home, all my friends at school will be, like – OMG – way jealous!

Well, gotta stop for now. Mom’s calling me over for my lunch and afternoon nap. I hate naps! Wish she’d quit treating me like a baby. I so hate her too!

Your everlovin’ grand-daughter.

Dawn H.

DATELINE: 5/12/07 Off the Farallons
FROM : H. Humpback Sr.
TO : Dawn H.
SUBJECT : Congrats on finding SFB – howeverso.

Yo, Dawn baby!

Nice to hear from you, girl! So, you finally stumbled into my old secret hideaway, did you? Enjoy it while you can, kiddo, but be nice to your Mom while you’re there. She may be a few sardines short of a full gulp….navigation-wise….but she’s doing the best she can with what she’s got. Granted, it ain’t much, but she’s still you Mom…so suck it up, okay?

So Carmel has gone sour on us whale folks, hunh? Too bad. It was nice while it lasted. Here tell after they dumped my old mayor pal, he went on to produce and direct movies, or some such. C’est la vie. C’est la vie.

Yeah, SFB does have a lot of action and allure. But your Mom’s right about Fishermen’s Wharf. Even when I was there it was a real trashy and rough neighborhood. Listen up, kid, sea lions are no pushover, believe me. Wait till you have a bunch of them yapping and nipping at your tail flukes. And talk about halitosis. Their breath is foul enough to make a sea slug puke!

So now you’re in that fresh water gunk I told you about. Hah! Hah! Hah! You’re learning, kiddo, you’re learning. Yep, it takes a bit of getting used to but it soon feels real good. You’re too young to worry about such things, but, it has one super secret effect for us whale folks. When you get a bit older you’ll see what I mean. The way it peels barnacles and weed right off your hide, in nothing flat, is a wonder. It just floats them right off and away…like that. You just wait…by the time you and your Mom leave her hide will be softer and slicker than your own bee-hind. You’ll see! Geez—when I think about how close I came to getting a licensing lock on that stuff all those years ago….it damn near makes me want to cry. We could have been filthy rich from that! But that cranky old boss of mine (what the hell was his name…I forget) wouldn’t give me enough time to close the deal. Well, the only good thing about us not getting rich means you’ll never end up as a spoiled heir-head brat, like some of those humie kinds. Nah! You’re just a regular brat. The kind an old grampus like me can give a righteous whack to her sassy caboose now and then… as a bit of tough love to teach her good manners….Heh! Heh!

Rio Vista. Ah, Rio Vista! Sure brings back fond memories. Oh yeah, they love me there (good for business, y’ see). Anyway, make sure you stay real polite with those folks there. Treat ’em nice, and they’ll always be happy to give you a warm welcome. Just a thought… maybe if you give them some kind of show…..like making a few flying baby leaps out of the water as you and your Mom pass by, they’ll be so thrilled they just might put a monument about you…right next to your old grandpa’s. How about that!

Well, gotta run. Have a pressing “social engagement”, as they say, with a sweet young thing named Stella (what can I say…she’s into older guys…and at my age…I’m grateful for whatever opportunity has to offer).All right, we’ll all hang here at the Farallons for another couple of weeks, but tell your Mom to get both your tail flukes out of SFB –asap- if you expect to hook up with us before we head off for Maui.

Take care, hear?

Your lovin’ Grandpa

H.H. Sr.