I’ve seen humpbacks spout just off the bow of a catamaran while in Mexico along the coast of Cabo San Lucas, with their black backs glistening in the sun, the gush of vapor as their massive lungs purged and took in another breath.
In Japan, near Okinawa, I’ve watched them go airborne off in the distance, rising impossibly, straight up from the water like megaliths, and toppling back into the sea. So, desperate to see Earth’s remaining leviathans, I’ve spent six hours on a tour that wouldn’t end, seeking blue whales in Sri Lankan waters, with a boat captain and staff who—bless their hearts—insisted we’d not go back in until we found them.