Dolphins
My friend Sophie and I went swimming with Hector's dolphins in Akaroa harbour today. We drove over there, about one and a half hours, to arrive at 8.30am, where we got suited up in wetsuits, and went out on a catamaran with about eight other people (from the Netherlands, the UK and Switzerland - causing my name for the day to be "Christchurch"). It was an overcast day, but warm and very still. It didn't feel real. We saw a lot of dolphins quite quickly, but the outfit that organises the dolphin swims were very ecological - and wouldn't disturb the dolphins unless they acted like they wanted to be swum with. So it was dolphins' choice.
And so, some time later, I found myself swimming (or treading water) with eight strangers in the EXTREMELY cold water of the beautiful harbour, making clicking sounds into the water, blowing bubbles and turning in circles in the desire to be "interesting" to the pods. The first two times we got in the water, there wasn't much response. It was really lovely in the water (oh so cold, but clean and refreshing and kind of monastically spiritual). It is a very nice part of the world indeed.
I could feel, though, how very desperately we all wanted the dolphins to want to come to us, how disappointed we were when they circled around and swam away. I'm not quite sure what it meant to everyone, but it struck me as meaningful, and quite religious in a way - this authentic experience we were all desiring, this kind of hand of god coming and touching us and making us special. And when it didn't come... how sad everyone was.
We got into the boat again, and went a little further, whereupon, freezing, we all got into the water again, and this time, the dolphins came and came, so many of them, and circled around us, and played around us. We weren't allowed to touch them (apparently they have very sensitive and delicate skin, that sheds often!) but some of them came very close to us, swimming around and investigating, and looping around, and playing. Hector's dolphins are very small, smaller than people. They are incredibly beautiful and very playful, and ack, I am FAILING at describing how awesome they were. Just this moment of reaching towards something so very outside of ourselves. And so very, very, very beautiful. One of the most touching moments for me was when this really gruff, sarcastic, funny English guy was approached by a dolphin, and said in the softest voice imaginable: "Hello, baby."
We stayed in until we were almost hypothermically cold (it took about three hours for me to get feeling back in my hands!) and piled back into the boat, where we had hot chocolate out of thermos flasks, and drove back to the dock. And the whole rest of this day (which involved a special lunch on the waterfront, and a long talk about LIFE THINGS with Sophie, and icecream, and sunshine) I have carried this sense of intense quiet inside me, like something that was chattering and noisy inside is still and quiet and good.
And so, some time later, I found myself swimming (or treading water) with eight strangers in the EXTREMELY cold water of the beautiful harbour, making clicking sounds into the water, blowing bubbles and turning in circles in the desire to be "interesting" to the pods. The first two times we got in the water, there wasn't much response. It was really lovely in the water (oh so cold, but clean and refreshing and kind of monastically spiritual). It is a very nice part of the world indeed.
I could feel, though, how very desperately we all wanted the dolphins to want to come to us, how disappointed we were when they circled around and swam away. I'm not quite sure what it meant to everyone, but it struck me as meaningful, and quite religious in a way - this authentic experience we were all desiring, this kind of hand of god coming and touching us and making us special. And when it didn't come... how sad everyone was.
We got into the boat again, and went a little further, whereupon, freezing, we all got into the water again, and this time, the dolphins came and came, so many of them, and circled around us, and played around us. We weren't allowed to touch them (apparently they have very sensitive and delicate skin, that sheds often!) but some of them came very close to us, swimming around and investigating, and looping around, and playing. Hector's dolphins are very small, smaller than people. They are incredibly beautiful and very playful, and ack, I am FAILING at describing how awesome they were. Just this moment of reaching towards something so very outside of ourselves. And so very, very, very beautiful. One of the most touching moments for me was when this really gruff, sarcastic, funny English guy was approached by a dolphin, and said in the softest voice imaginable: "Hello, baby."
We stayed in until we were almost hypothermically cold (it took about three hours for me to get feeling back in my hands!) and piled back into the boat, where we had hot chocolate out of thermos flasks, and drove back to the dock. And the whole rest of this day (which involved a special lunch on the waterfront, and a long talk about LIFE THINGS with Sophie, and icecream, and sunshine) I have carried this sense of intense quiet inside me, like something that was chattering and noisy inside is still and quiet and good.