For New Year 2023, I set myself a goal: to find and photograph, from a kayak, all four species of whale that regularly occur in the inland waters of Washington State. The four species are the killer whale, minke whale, gray whale, and humpback whale. Other whale species occur in the open ocean offshore, but they are outside the scope of my challenge.
At one time or another, I had previously photographed each of the inland whale species, but never all in the same year. Yet January, February, and March of 2023 came and went, and I had no whale photographs to show for my efforts. In March, I launched no fewer than six times for killer whales, including once with my dad and kids, but I had yet to photograph a single whale.
The most approachable and most reliably found species is the gray whale. Each spring, a gang of some two dozen or so gray whales, almost always the same individuals, pause their northward migration to loiter in Possession Sound and forage in the muddy bottom for shrimp. I first learned of these “sounders” in 2019 and have been coming to see them every year since. The killer whales might be too elusive, but the good old sounders wouldn’t let me down.
Route map. The previous Saturday, a friend and I had attempted a route northward from Mukilteo, but we were turned back by choppy seas.
The launch at the Everett Marina is subject to fast-flowing currents in the channel between the marina and Jetty Island. Since the launch ramp is equidistant from the north and south ends of the island, it’s usually best to just go whichever direction the current takes you. Today, the late morning current was setting south, so southward I went.
Jetty Island is an artificial island composed of dredging spoils. Despite its artificial provenance, it has become of the best habitats in Puget Sound for waterbirds and shorebirds. In early April, some of the winter birds were still preparing to depart, while some of the summer birds were already preparing to breed.
Launch at Everett Marina. This boat ramp can be a bit of a “chit show” during summer, but in the middle of the week in April, there were only a handful of powerboaters.
Double-crested cormorant, Jetty Island. This species was by far the most numerous of the cormorants today.
“Slow down!” this mother Canada goose warns passing boaters. Canada geese and ospreys nest on the pilings east of Jetty Island.
Black-bellied plover, Jetty Island. I checked carefully for golden-plovers, but the only species I saw today was the black-bellied.
Out on Possession Sound, I paddled northwest toward Hat Island. This route took me through the most productive springtime gray whale grounds in Washington, but I made it all the way to the north end of the island having seen no sign of a spout. I did enjoy the harbor seals and scenery, but they weren’t really what I had come to see. Discouraged at yet another miss, I did a little offshore rolling practice and began paddling eastward for home, toward the Snohomish River delta and the north end of Jetty Island. My son Leon was turning three today, and I did not want to miss his birthday party this afternoon.
Out of the corner of my eye, about two miles to the south in waters I had already traversed, I thought I glimpsed a faint puff of “steam” rising above the waterline. Gray whale breaths look exactly like steam clouds and dissipate just as quickly. I swung my bow southward and began scanning for more puffs.
Usually, gray whales breathe in sets of two to four breaths at short intervals—say, a minute or two—followed by a long dive that can last five or ten minutes. This whale, when I finally spotted a second puff of steam, was breathing only once or twice at a time, and then staying under for more like fifteen minutes. From two miles’ distance, I estimated its course and moved to intercept.
Success! The whale came up once more about two hundred yards away. I snapped a photograph looking into the sun, then began positioning my boat to place the sun behind me in anticipation of the whale’s next breath.
The next breath never came. I waited and waited, but after half an hour, the whale had not re-appeared. That first, brief encounter was to be my only one.
I was already running late for Leon’s birthday. I hurried over to the sunken wooden barges that shield the north end of Jetty Island, and paddled back to the marina.
Kayaking Possession Sound. From left to right: Whidbey Island, Hat Island, Camano Island, and the mainland.
Harbor seal, Possession Sound. Harbor seals like to sneak up behind kayakers, but I was actually paddling backwards to maintain my position against the current while I waited for the gray whale, so I caught this fellow by surprise.
Gray whale, Possession Sound. It is rare for a gray whale to be so difficult to approach.
Sunken barges, Snohomish River delta. In the 1940s, obsolete wooden barges were sunk to form a breakwater.
It may not have been the most intimate gray whale encounter, but I was happy to have finally gotten my first species of 2023. Best of all, I made it to Grandma Linda’s house just in time to share birthday cake and presents with Leon!
After the trip, Alisa Brooks of the Orca Network was able to identify my gray whale as CRC 2440. CRC 2440 was a newcomer male. He was first identified in Haro Strait in January 2022, far outside the normal season for gray whales. Even more unusually, he then remained in the inland waters for all of 2022 and on into 2023. Alisa told me CRC 2440 was the first gray whale ever known to have taken up residence like this.
Two days later, the Orca Network and Cascadia Research Collective announced nicknames for several of our longstanding sounders who had not previously been named. CRC 2440 was named “Tahoma.”
Nice to meet you, Tahoma!
—Alex Sidles