We move on, scanning the waters as the
team is becoming a little anxious. There are
still no whales and it’s a little unusual to not
have them in our sights by now. Are they all
gone for the year? A large barracuda swims
by, alone on its journey but nevertheless
menacing in its appearance. We’re a fair
way out from the mainland now, passed the
scattered rocky outcrops that are home to
hundreds of seabirds. The sooty shearwater
birds are extreme little things, and Olaf still
amazes in their behaviour, remarking just
how phenomenal it is that they can fly just
millimetres off the surface and at such speed
and still avoid the crests. But they are not the
only flying things out here.
A slight fizzing sound zips by us as a flying
fish is spooked by the boat and takes off
in flight, a few feet off the water. They are
unbelievable, with rainbow light streaming
from their delicate wings, or rather fins, that
they use to propel themselves into another
medium. Photographing them is near
impossible - their leaps are as random as
lottery numbers, and they are usually gone
as fast as they appear.
We are soon approached by a cruising
hammerhead shark, also alone, as many
creatures find themselves out in the open
sea. It loiters momentarily beside the boat,
probably determining if this object of mass
and commotion can offer it a meal. This shark
soon scats, and we catch its striking dorsal
fin cutting the surface before it d